Florence

I want to be this woman. Seriously. If I were a vocalist and I wrote music, this is what would be like. This is BRILLIANT.

In Pursuit of Altruism

http://www.savagechickens.com/images/chickenaltruism.jpg

Last Friday, I was standing at the bus stop outside of the campus McDonalds, waiting for the 465 that goes to the southern suburbs, as I was planning on spending the evening with my parents. I'm standing out there in the rain, thinking about something I'd just volunteered myself to do. My professor for my "On Television" class wanted people to sign up as a peer note taker which, I assumed at first, would be a sort of log for people who missed class or just something to share on the class website. After the sign-up form passed through the first one and a half rows, no one had signed it. I decided I would because I take way too many notes and I figured it'd be a good way to help me study for this course. So I wrote down my name and at the end of class I had to go up and talk to the professor about it. I found out I was the ONLY PERSON in a class of thirty that had signed up for this. And it wasn't just taking notes for class, no - I had volunteered myself through University Disability Services to share my notes with a middle-aged man that had just signed up to take the class who seemed to have some sort of learning disability. I suddenly felt like an altruistic badass.

So I'm standing there at the bus stop, thinking about this and wondering why the heck no one else volunteered to be a note taker (OMG, you'd have to take notes in class - you're SUPPOSED to do that anyway). I have a theory that U kids are actually rather blase about life by the time they become upper classmen (not that I'm exactly the spirit squad about my undergraduate education) and that they don't want to have to do anything more than they have to, especially when you have to take five classes, work two jobs and somehow get time to sleep in order to graduate in four years and not run up debt on your credit card. Anyway, I'm standing there in this weird sort of drizzle we really shouldn't be having in January, and this guy comes up to me. He's really tall, African American, wearing this wool sort of coat. He makes a sound and holds out this card on which is hand written, "I am deaf and can read lips. God bless." He flips the card over which I read quickly. I don't catch most of it; I see that something happened to him when he woke up that morning and that he needs money for food and shelter. For whatever reason, I do not doubt him. He makes another sounds, a sort of grunt mixed with a whimper, and flips the card over again, pointing to the information about lip reading and "God Bless." My brain hurries to process what to do. As I reach for my wallet, I try to discern how much money is in there. I quickly recall there is a one dollar bill and a twenty. Without thinking too much farther, I open up the wallet, pull out the twenty and tell him, "I can give you this."

He looks at the bill and his eyes go wide in shock. He opens his arms, hugs me, and walks off. And I feel amazing. Not good about myself, not altruistic. I'm not even thinking about myself. I find that, in this strange little moment in the pause before the five o'clock rush hour, in a strange bit of winter rain, the world is beautiful.

I know what you're thinking - "you gave a man who may not actually be homeless, a man who could just spend that money on alcohol, a man you know nothing about twenty whole dollars?" Yep, I did.
And honestly - I have no idea what he was going to use the money for. There's no way I could possibly know. But I don't usually give out money like that - and never that much. For once, just once, it felt right. And I didn't care about the loss of twenty dollars. It didn't feel like a loss at all.

I was thinking about this on the bus ride to the suburbs, wondering about all of this. Why the man came up to me, why I gave him the money, why he chose that bus stop in the first place. There were a lot of people standing about, and yet I didn't see him going up to anyone else. Of course, I wasn't really paying attention, I was staring off into space like I so often do. There was a lot of luck/chance/coincidences/fate - what have you - going on there.

Later that night, I was thinking about it more. How in my social psych class we talked about the issue of whether altruism really exists, because even doing something like this can make you feel good about yourself and maybe you just give money to feel good. I disagree with this. I didn't necessarily feel good about myself afterwards (actually I wished I could have done more for him and I worried about whether he was going to be wandering around the freezing cold streets all night). I just felt good about the world. It's part of why I didn't think too much about why he needed the money. I doubt people, all of humanity, every second of every day. Once, just once, I wanted to trust and believe someone. Just once. And that's what I did.

And yes, it's possible that I did it for some sort of long term gain. The "God Bless" part had a surprising effect on my decision making.  I mean, once the man pointed to that part of his card, I had already made up my mind to give him the money. So maybe God wanted me to do it, maybe I did it to please God, but considering my track record with doing things for religious reasons, I kind of doubt it. Maybe I did it for karma, or to pay it forward. But if I was really doing it for my benefit, don't you think I want an instant reward? That's probably not gonna happen. Point is - I'm pretty damn sure I didn't do it for me.

So there you go - I believe in altruism. And here's some philosophizing for your Sunday morning. You're welcome :)

RIP Megavideo

http://phandroid.s3.amazonaws.com

I was very distraught to find late last week that Megaupload (and thus Megavideo, the awesome not-totally-legal source that allowed me to watch three seasons of Torchwood and one season and three episodes of season 2 of Doctor Who) had been shut down.

I can't even blame SOPA. Because SOPA didn't pass Congress. So this whole thing was just an unfortunate timed thing. Which makes me very very very sad. There goes the rest of Season 2 of Doctor Who. There goes my chance to watch Sherlock and Modern Family this semester. Can't the government deal with more important things than internet piracy right now - like, I don't know, the ECONOMY? - and let college students like me (who actually MUST watch TV for a class this semester, thanks guys) continue watching things we love and adore but can't get on American TV? Is it really THAT big of a threat at the moment?

Whatever, guys. Whatever. I'm just going to keep mourning here and complaining for a few minutes longer. Before you guys do something else more important and ridiculous to piss me off. Which you will. 'Cause your politicians.

Wow, I just figured out what to be pissed about next - I'm getting jaded. And cynical. The two things I refuse to become. Grrrrr.... I shall not give in. I shall not become a cynic! Because... well, this:

http://randomoverload.com

 

 But personally, I like this best:

http://www.jarche.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/cynic-460x361.gif

And Again With the Weirdness... and Dreams... and Vampires. And Batman.

I had a pretty great first week back in classes (which is a plus - after a rather mundane last semester, I am pumped to have some pretty exciting ones). However, fun took its toll and I had a pretty weird-ass dream Friday night.

http://collider.com

So I feel like I'm watching the movie Fright Night but am also this character in it. There's this girl who's hanging out at the bar kind of on her own, kind of with friends, and Jerry the vampire - ala Colin Farrell - comes up to her. He's trying to seduce her in that Dracula-type way but it's not really working so he drugs her and knocks her out and she wakes up in this backroom of the bar and has to fight her was back to the main bar area. But then the dream restarts, from the beginning, only both the vampire and the girl remember what happened previously. So the girl is way more wary of the vampire but he's also way more convincing. And he keeps trying to slip blood into her drinks (because isn't there some thing about how if you drink a vampire's blood you're semi-vampiric? Or am I way off-base here?). But she's having none of it and apparently Jerry the vampire is responsible for trying to kill one of her friends. And he's all like, "It wasn't me, babe - I'm not a bad vampire. Really, being a vampire isn't evil - I make good life decisions. So join me 'cause I'm hot." And so on. But the girl escapes once again but AGAIN my dream starts over (and some part of my subconscious is like "WTF? Fright Night was NOT this scary the first time I watched it!") and the girl really wants to get the hell out of that bar before it becomes some creepy rip-off (yet higher budgeted) version of Dusk Before Dawn but Jerry is so damn convincing (and hot) so the girl's about to give in. But someone helps her or something and she escapes and she's running outside. And suddenly she fully becomes me and there's no more of this weird split-perspective thing and I'm running past Walter Library with someone. And Batman - not like the cool, Christian Bale/mod Batman, but the Adam West/ I'm-wearing-a-really-terrible-grey-spandex-suit Batman - is swinging from the Grecian columns on the facade of the library. It's raining sideways, and Batman is proclaiming that because  it is raining sideways, this (of course) is a sign of the Apocalypse. I find this a bit odd but follow whoever I'm with inside the library, just in case. And also, I don't want to run into anymore vampires.

http://dialbforblog.com

So yeah... No idea where all this came from in its rather unique, vivid and terrifying splendor. And for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It seemed full of symbology and weird connections to all kinds of vampire stories (except for maybe Twilight. Lies - Jerry was trying to be all sympathetic and Byronic like Edward. Fail. At least he didn't sparkle...).

But why this dream? Yes, I have been trying to find Fright Night used because I want to buy it but I'm cheap. I've been thinking about Gothic writing a lot here due to some of my classes and because I'm trying to resist the urge to read Jane Eyre for the 20th time, The Phantom of the Opera for the third, Dracula for the third or fourth, and go see Beauty and the Beast in 3D. Yes, Beauty and the Beast is not a Gothic novel... but that castle in the movie looks pretty damn Gothic to me. And Gaston is the funniest Disney ever. And somehow, I think dwelling upon Gaston's muscular build reminded me of Jerry the vampire somehow... and thus maybe there's the root for some of this weirdness.

I still have no idea where the fuck Batman came from.

The Trouble with Bright Girls

http://legosneggos.files.wordpress.com/

[Львица] came across this article the other day and I had one of those instances where I wanted to attach a big giant "this" photo to it to express how much I agree with the author is saying. You can read the whole thing here but I'm going to post the first two paragraphs to segue into it:

Successful women know only too well that in any male-dominated profession, we often find ourselves at a distinct disadvantage. We are routinely underestimated, underutilized and even underpaid. Studies show that women need to perform at extraordinarily high levels, just to appear moderately competent compared to our male coworkers.

But in my experience, smart and talented women rarely realize that one of the toughest hurdles they'll have to overcome to be successful lies within. Compared with our male colleagues, we judge our own abilities not only more harshly but fundamentally differently. Understanding why we do it is the first step to righting a terrible wrong. And to do that, we need to take a step back in time.

Perhaps I find this so timely because it just occurred to me over break that all the really terrible things that combat me (my weight, my appearance, my grades, my future, my attitude, my relationships) have rarely been outwardly criticized by anyone. No, in fact the thoughts that hurt me most come from ME. I think I won't succeed at something or that I'll fail or something or that I'm bad person and it hurts me and I see it as true just because I THOUGHT IT. I remember this really taking off around fifth grade, all these negative self-thoughts, and that's when I first remember having blue days and feeling incompetent and disliking myself. And woe and behold, at what age does the author say little clever girls suddenly feel less confident? FIFTH GRADE.

Girls see things as innate and unchangeable; boys see through effort and practice, they can get better at things. Why this is... well, I'm sure I could come up with a lot of hypothesis. But it seems so true. I mean, it's certainly been a hurdle I've been trying to overcome in a lot of things - music, math, social skills, you name it. Part of me wants to get all feminist and freak about this and get pissed off that this difference in learning exists. Part of me just wants to sit back and think this through and find a way to overcome it. Another part of me just wants to go out and hug every girl this has happened to.

Sometimes, life just isn't fair. I think about how people sometimes treat me, being an assistant building manager, acting like because I'm a girl I can't handle working with hardware and plumbing and other assorted home improvement things. This hasn't happened often and it hadn't blatantly been expressed but it's just a feeling I've gotten from some of the people (okay, men) who've come out to the apartment to do repairs. As if just because I'm a woman, I can't learn how to do repair stuff.

Yeah, and you came out of the womb knowing everything you ever needed to know about home repair. Right.

Fortunately for me, around the time I started getting serious about music, I started trying to believe that things are not innate and unchangeable, that I could learn flute and kick ass at it (okay, so I didn't get into music school, but I do kick ass at it). I could do math if I really put my mind to it (but I found myself having more fun writing and doing psych stuff). I can freaking light a pilot light and re-attach a shower head to the wall. I CAN LEARN SHIT.

So, girls: you can do it. Whatever it is. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. And boys: share the love. We can both do it - and screw insecurity.

This has dissolved into a fluffy, poorly written pep talk. Sorry, but in my defense, today's the first day of spring semester and my brain is rather exhausted. So maybe I should call it quits for the night and let all you philosophizing pseudo-feminists do whatever it is when you're not reading my blog. Not that philosophizing pseudo-feminists read my blog but... never mind. You know what I mean.

Shadows

I was on the vast world of Tumblr today when I noticed something: one of the blogs I followed early on, eirwencorentin, hadn't posted anything for days. I really like the photos he or she posts (I've assume it's a she but I actually don't know - I could be wrong. Thus I will hense forth refer to him or her as ze - and use the chance to practice using gender neutral pronouns) - lots of beautiful outdoor scenes and magical-looking buildings and Parisian-inspired things and Doctor Who and Anime and tea. But I realized that I hadn't seen ze post anything for a while and I was wondering why (because usually ze posts something everyday). I went to zir home page and saw this as zir most recent post:

My resolution for 2012 is to die. That’s why this tumblr won’t be updated anymore.

This really freaked me out. I mean, I never really got the feeling that this person was particularly depressed - not over all. Ze posted some disturbing things - this was the second most recent post and similar to something I'd seen a month or so ago:

When I'd seen previous posts like this, I felt confused. They were usually reblogs and they just didn't seem to fit anything else ze posted. But I, of course, don't know this person. I never talked to them online. I never really interacted with ze any more than liking and reblogging zir posts. I don't know much of anything about this person. But it's still really worrying. What if ze did commit suicide? What if zir dead? How would I ever know?

It's one of the things I don't like about Tumblr - it's a bonding source for people who have a lot of depression issues and think about committing suicide. And not a good sort of a bonding. The sort that convinces people it would be better if they just ended their lives. Which in my opinion is not the best source of support.

I've never dealt with serious depression. I've never seriously, realistically considered committing suicide - I have in certain instances, when I'm upset beyond thinking clearly and feeling shitty and not thinking about my life outside this one instance. But the thought repels me even as it appears - I know deep down that I'm not really going to do it; it's just a sudden, almost inappropriate gut reaction it seems. I'm not one who has thoughts every day of wanting to end their life, of suffering depression so great they can't function. My depression - if you could even call it that - it is far smaller and non-continuous, sporadic and not serious. But I know how serious depression can really be - it's a fight every day to get out of bed, to keep moving, to not give up. Some days I have to fight a bit, most I don't. But to have to fight every day, every minute, is a sort of exhaustion I truly do not know.

Eirwen Corentin - the only name I know you by - I hope you are still out there, somewhere, fighting. I can't begin to understand what you've gone through, or why or how, but I hope you haven't given in to the shadows, that you haven't fallen into seeing the world only in terms of light and dark and all you can see is darkness. Because there is so much to see beyond the dark, beyond the shadows, so much to live for when you can find a way to know that darkness is not absolute.

But I'll never know if you did, will I? I'll never know. It's too little, too late, from the wrong person. All I can do is wait and see if you come back to your blog... just wait. And hope.

Singing Frenchmen and Buff Vampires

Somewhere, in the craziness that was midterms, finals and party planning, I never got around to talking about two rather stunning visual art forms I encountered. So, as a bit of post-holiday catch-up, here it goes:

http://upload.wikimedia.org

Les Miserable: I saw this at the Orpheum with [Львица], [The Question], and [save the panzer]. I'd been fortunate enough to see it when I was fourteen at the Ordway back on one of it's previous tours and totally feel in love with it. It's my favorite show, now tied with La Cage. I'm a total sucker for the music; I absolutely love it (especially "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" - someone once mentioned it in connection to Torchwood on Tumblr and I can't get it out of my head. I was totally thinking of Jack singing it after he's lost half the team during the actual show... God, I am way to devoted to this show; it's usurped the plot of a Tony-award winning musical!) The show was good - Valjean was great, Javert was wonderful, and Marius, who too often can be kind of wimpy, was PERFECT. I've never really liked his character but that night I realized he's the one I sympathize with most - the one who wants to change the world but doesn't want to get swept up into radicalism to do so. Cosette was typically weak, Fantine was a disappointment, but Eponine was wonderful. And Enjolras looked like Roger Daltrey. So win. It wasn't quite as stunning as it had been the first time - maybe because I knew what was coming and because I liked the staging of it at the Ordway just a little better - but it was still an excellent show.

http://upload.wikimedia.org

Fright Night: I had wanted to see this movie over the summer because it had Colin Farrell in it, and Anton Yelchin, also known as "that funny guy from Charlie Bartlett." I'm usually not into remakes but, having never seen the original and DESPERATELY WANTING a movie in which vampires are actually SCARY, I really wanted to see it. I didn't get the chance but then this winter I realized, with my new-found Doctor Who obsession that David Tennant was in it. So my longing to see it tripled.

I know what you're thinking - revamp (hah, pun intended) of an 80s horror movie? Probably going to be lame with gratuitous gore. NOPE. NOT AT ALL. I am not a big horror movie fan. I don't like gore. And they generally have shitty plots. I haven't seen the original - and apparently all fans of it hated the remake. SO I have nothing to compare it to (well, I do, but not plot-wise). That being said...

THIS MOVIE ROCKED. SERIOUSLY. I LOVED IT. Maybe I'm desensitized, but I didn't think it was that gory (have you seen CSI lately? Jesus, last time I saw it, it was WAY grosser than it was when I was thirteen). I liked the characters. I liked that it was humorous. And I liked the fact that Colin Farrell was hot and FUCKING SCARY. But not so scary that I felt like I would never sleep again.

http://moviesmedia.ign.com

Also, David Tennant was an epic win. I'm probably just saying that because of the leather pants. But seriously, I thought he was great.

WINNING

Fright Night has really become my favorite horror movie. Seriously. I'm not really a good person to judge on that, I suppose, since horror movies aren't really my favorite sort of film (too many years of watching bad Sci-Fi channel creations and having enough nightmares without watching horror movies, thank you very much).  But I really like the balance of humor with the horror elements. And I like that it used a teenager plot line without being totally campy or stereotypical about it.

So, yeah, if you want a something that's not super scary, not Twilight and mind-fuckingly gory, I recommend this. Also, you know, the Doctor Who connection doesn't hurt.

Sorry, had to use this damn gif. Blame Tumblr. Actually, what the hell am I apologizing for? I'm not sorry at all ;)

Why I Sucked At Being a Teenager

Somewhere, upstairs, God is laughing at me.

He has a right too. My exploits Friday night seem more like the plot of a teen comedy or an SNL skit than ordinary life. But it happened... oh, how it happened.

[mind ninja] decided to host a drinking game party at her house after the success of our holiday party. Originally, we were going to have her house to ourselves (her parents were going to be out of town for a hockey tournament) and she planned on playing a drinking game to Lord of the Rings. Except nothing went as planned.

[mind ninja]'s family didn't leave town - the hockey tournament got cancelled - and in fact, they ended up hosting a pizza dinner for the hockey team, who didn't leave until around 9 pm. [mind ninja] hadn't gotten the alcohol and wanted [foxy lady] or me to get it. But both of our IDs were invalid because we hadn't gotten the chance to update them since our birthdays were only a month and half or so past. Just as well - it's one thing getting alcohol for my own party. It feels wrong to buy it for someone else's. I just didn't feel comfortable doing it - but I didn't want to say that to [mind ninja]. It seemed like betrayal.

Mostly, though, I was peeved at the United States government. Seriously, I bought alcohol in a grocery store in St. Andrews, Scotland. I was able to bring it back in my luggage. But I can't buy one single drink in an American liquor store because I didn't request to have my ID updated three weeks before my birthday (because, apparently, you can do that, which I did not know. Nor does the Minnesota State driving guide book give any such helpful tips). So, American youths about to turn 21 - your ID expires DAY OF your birthday, apparently. You can still buy drinks with it (and confuse bartenders who can do math) but you can't buy anything from a liquor store. Sad day for me, walking into a liquor store for the first time without my parents and leaving empty handed and feeling like I'm about twelve. Fuck you, United States drinking laws - I behaved myself all those years and can count on one hand the number of times I drank under the age limit. And this is how you reward me. Thanks. See if I ever take your laws seriously again. (Just kidding, US Gov't... I have no plans on becoming a criminal or a traitor. Please don't put me on the no-fly list).

[mind ninja] and [Львица] were able to convince [novel killer]'s parents to buy alcohol after our epic fail. We ended up with way too much for the small group we had and somehow managed to sneak it into the house. I felt giddy about it, like a rebel, doing something dangerous (despite the fact that I was drinking legally). It was probably an experience many people my age had five or six years ago, back when they were still in high school. And I was just now experiencing it - as a legal drinker. When most kids were drinking in high school, I was staying at home, reading Jane Eyre, and watching The Daily Show. When they were having their first experiences being drunk, I was going to the movies, staying home with my parents and learning about my dad's experiences as a bartender. And while they drove home drunk in the wee hours of the morning, I was sleeping. I've never have been much of a night owl.

Even the Gleeks have party hard in high school... and they're supposed to be the un-coolest people in school (which reminds, me, I should blog about Glee). Not that I should be comparing my life to fictional TV, but this stung a bit. Apparently, I am so uncool the uncool people think I'm uncool. Think about it...

And now, it's not so much like I'm trying to play catch-up; I don't care about not having those experiences. Not exactly that I don't care but that I just had no desire to do that sort of stuff in high school and that not experiencing it was, well, no terrible loss. It's just that now, now that my friends and I want to have a party with drinks, now that we feel like it's something we're comfortable with, now that we're practically legal or are legal, it feels weird being in these situations. Wondering how the hell sixteen year olds got alcohol when we can't even buy it when we're 21. Trying to fathom how they got a whole case of beer in the house with no one noticing. Wondering how they actually felt like getting drunk because, after all that work, we all only had about one to three drinks apiece.

http://www.cartoonstock.com

Oh, things I missed being a non-stereotypical sort of teenager... I don't regret it, I don't miss not having these experiences. It just leave a whole lot of things to be wondered for me. Also I never got invited to parties... so, yeah. There's that. Personally, I think having these firsts now is incredibly more entertaining for myself. I'm more comfortable with who I am, I'm more ready to try new things. I'm doing it because I want to do it - not because of peer pressure, or to fit in, or anything. And there's that added benefit of comedic tension at out attempts to have these experiences now. Now that we're the anomalies for not doing this years ago.

Really, it's not so much that I sucked at being a teenager. I just sucked at living up to the stereotypes of the American teenager - which is a rebellion in itself, isn't it?

Ooh, we've got a badass over here... :P

Dreams, Doctors, and Shoes

So I had this bizarre dream the other night that I simply can't get out of my head: My parents were driving me, through Scotland (I think) for a reunion with the people on my Scotland trip at some church in the countryside, surrounded by graveyards. I went into the church and started talking to some of the students. We then took this tour about the building and I noticed something odd about all of the people there. They were all kind of monotoned, glassy-eyed, and barefoot. I wandered into the gift shop and started talking to the woman who worked there. She was pregnant and apparently everyone working there believed her baby was super important. I got this weird feeling that her baby wasn't normal, that it was a ghost baby or something, and I was kind of weirded out. I had this sense that this church was like the Hotel California - "you can check out any time you like; but you can never leave" - and that something was binding people to this place. And that the ghost baby was a huge part of this. Then the Doctor - 10th regeneration, aka David Tennant - walks into the shop and begins talking to the woman. She starts trying to play some sort of Jedi mind trick on him and make him forget his reasons for coming and to make him the way she is - barefoot and glassy-eyed and trapped in this place. He starts to slip away into this weird twilight world of theirs, but he's able to fight it off and I help him escape, although he somehow loses a shoe in the process. So we're walking down a street that looks similar to one I walked down in Glasgow, and he's telling me how he's a Time Lord and how he's come there to free these people from whatever has made them work for this ghost that possesses this church, all the time we're walking down this cobbled street and I'm wondering if his bare, shoeless foot is getting cold. I agreed to help him and told him he had fantastic hair. And then I woke up.

I seriously don't know what to make of this. I mean, my dreams tend to be rather complex. But this was like half a TV episode or something. And damn, it felt so REAL.

My dreams are beginning to feel realer. What the heck does THAT mean? All I've got is this quote from Audrey Niffenegger in my head: Maybe I'm dreaming you. Maybe you're dreaming me; maybe we only exist in each other's dreams and every morning when we wake up we forget all about each other. I feel like this quote captures why I have such an interest in dreams (and why I continue to talk about mine here). I feel like there's something more to them than just random brain spasms and jumbling of stuff at the end of the day. I'm not saying that, as I sleep, I'm starring in episodes of Doctor Who or solving crimes or planning out epic movie or novel plots. I'm not saying my dreams make sense or have some sort of integral meaning. I just think they're really interesting and cool to ponder.

And I'm concerned as to whether the Doctor ever gets his shoe back.

Oh, The Places You'll Go...

A Doctor Who - Dr Seuss crossover from Buzzfeed

I love this :D

The Party

It's been a rough start to the New Year, what with the wisdom teeth removal and all. So by the time our  friends' holiday party rolled around on Wednesday, the one that caused all the trouble before the semester ended, I was kind of worried about it. I mean, any of a number of things could have gone wrong.

Amazingly, nothing did. [Львица] and I decorated our apartment rather majestically, I think, even giving Mo the cat a little pink bow. We cooked for half the day (wondrous Alaskan salmon and halibut, and chicken broccoli alfredo for those peculiar people who don't like fish) and had ample time left to set up ambiance music, rearrange chairs, and mock our friends for not being on time.

Things were perhaps a little hard to ease into at first, with offering drinks and trying to get people to decide whether they were hungry or not (our friends are historically indecisive). But once dinner had been served and drinks refilled and Secret Santa gifts were opened, things began to feel much more comfortable and relaxed to me. I was fortunate enough to have [shortage of perfect breasts] as my Secret Santa, the only other person there, other than [Львица], who could possibly know about or understand my obsession with Torchwood. So I was blown away by and totally grateful for her gift - a downloaded and burned DVD of Friday Night Project hosted by John Barrowman, and a home-knitted pillow (made by [shortage of perfect breasts] herself) with the Torchwood logo on one side and my first initial on the other. It's the best Secret Santa gift I've ever gotten. I wish I knew how to show her how thankful I am, without seeming ridiculous. It's a rather wibbly-wobbly line, that.


I managed to talk to [X] and [novel killer] without any apparent weirdness (but by that time, I'd already several drinks). I assured [X] that I was totally over [No-Mr-Darcy] and she informed me that it was just as well, as he believes that a woman's place is in the kitchen (it, of course, no longer matters, if he really thinks that, but it's just as well things didn't work out because, if it's true, I probably would have beaten him up). I tried tequila - bizarre, not my favorite, but not bad. I felt closer to my friends then than I had in years. I suddenly had high, high hopes that I was going to be able to move on from all of the things that had been bothering me about my friendships, that if we'd been able to hang on this long, that maybe we could forge ahead into the future. That even thought sometimes we have our issues, that they treat me better and understand me more than the rest of the world. There wasn't any peer pressure to drink and I didn't drink too much and I felt comfortably tipsy. All was good.

Perhaps I was seeing the world through rosy-colored lenses (or maybe liquor-tinted ones. I did have two glasses of wine, a Guinness, a shot of tequila, and a Heineken. Far more than I have ever drunk before - and yet I wasn't drunk; have I inherited my father's liver?) Everything seemed beautiful and I had no worries. I felt beautiful, important; nothing hurt.

I wish all nights could be like this one; I know they can't - later in the week would prove this true. But this night - this one night - made me feel better than I had in days. Maybe weeks. It didn't last but it's a positive sign for me - a sign that when I finally get those cruel little voices in my head to shut up, life is good. No negative self-thoughts - that was a New Year's resolution, after all :)

Awesome Covers

Here's some fantastic covers of some of my favorite songs done by some of my favorite artists to ring in 2012:

Sara Bareilles singing "Little Lion Man"

I was actually fortunate enough to see her perform this live when she played in Minnesota this year. LOVE this.

Ellie Goulding singing "The Cave"

Another Mumford and Sons song. Goulding just has such a unique voice - she sounds really cool singing a folk-rock piece.

Adele singing "I Can't Make You Love Me"

This Bonnie Raitt song has been a favorite of mine for ages. Adele covers it perfectly.