Sunday Morning

This morning, [Львица]'s cat woke me up by jumping on my back and meowing in my ear. No better way to wake up than by cat alarm. It was the best I'd felt in weeks, probably because I had a very cathartic lunch at Serum's with my parents (which has the best wings and the best fried chicken sandwich I've ever eaten in MY LIFE), even though I was tearing up at music, commercials and the news Saturday night (stupid PMS symptoms. Who thought crying over everything was a good thing to add in hormones?) Also, the leak in our bathroom ceiling was not active, which was good since I'm terrified the plaster is going to explode and water is going to go everywhere.

I went to get a load of laundry together and realized that I was short over a dollar's worth of quarters. So, I went out to get coffee and dental floss (yes, I know, great combination) so that I could end up with enough change to run the machines. I walked down to the Purple Onion in the fresh fall air and, because I am terrible at making up my mind, I ordered the first think I saw on the menu when the barista asked for my order. I ended up with a caffè Americano, which is just espresso and hot water. I am still wired from the amount of caffeine in my bloodstream. Then it was off to CVS to get the floss and back home.

Because I was nearly hyper-ventilating from the coffee, I decided to burn of my energy and do something outrageous and clean our bathroom.

Here's the deal - our apartment was not clean when we moved in. But because we'd spent so much time cleaning all the other 22 units for the new tenants, we didn't even bother with ours. Clearly the people who lived here had not cleaned much before they moved out, but then again, it probably wasn't clean when they moved in either. That's basically how it was for all of these units though. Anyway, I got ambitious and decided to clean - plus I couldn't stand the fact that there was an old scrap of toilet paper glued to the floor by dirt and dust that had been there since for God knows how long. Yeah, something needed done.

I'd cleaned the sink the night before because there was paint in it from when we got our shower repainted. First thing I decided to tackle was the toilet. IT WAS DISGUSTING. There was a brownish-black ring of... something... around the top. It took me at least 10 minutes of scrubbing and still not all of it came off. At least it looks better. And less disease-spreading.

Next I decided to scrub the floors. Because there were areas where you could see the gunk caked across the tiles. I did my best. It's not 100% clean, but it's liveable. I also think I was the first person to clean under the radiator since 1986. I felt like Cinderella, using a sponge and scrubbing at the tiles. No fairy godmother for me, but oh well - at least [Львица] and I won't have to worry about getting dirt on our feet the moment we get out of the show now.

A disgusting start to the day, but it make me feel pretty hardcore. I mean, really - how many college students would choose to do that sort of cleaning? Not that our tenants are going to have much of a choice. [Львица] and I plan on super cleaning our apartment and insisting that all other units look like this when they move out. Because somebody's gotta stop this cycle of never cleaning the apartments. It might as well be us. The building manager overlords have spoken.

Family Snapshot

My cousin got married today. Well, I presume he did, because I couldn't actually attend the ceremony.  They changed the date due to getting a location they wanted for cheap right after my parents and I had planned on going (it would have been over fall break for my mom's school so she wouldn't have to take off work). But the sudden, almost last minute change threw us all off and prevented us from making the 11 hour trek down there for an event that would be... well, more than a little awkward.

You see, my cousin - I'll call him [T] - is my age, 20. Actually, I'm nearly 21 and he's five months younger. Last year... or more like a year and a half ago, his girlfriend found out she was pregnant. So at 19 he became a father. They have an adorable little girl but she'll be raised in a strange situation - neither one of them act like parents and, according to my grandmother and aunt, [T]'s girlfriend refuses to learn how to cook and fed the baby formula until she was over a year old. They were planning on getting married next summer but then suddenly they changed their plans when [T]'s girlfriend found out that her sister was getting married too - and she had to get married first. So, in a sudden whirl-wind, they've been planning their wedding since the spring. And today was the big day.

Promise Me Bold

Laura Marling's "Rest in the Bed" - my new musical obsession. I just can't stop listening to it.

Back Home Again in Indiana

As you might have seen from the previous post, the nighttime has not been so kind to me recently. At least where sleeping is involved. This has been a common event for the past few weeks. Of if not kind, at least rather strange.

I was lying in bed the other night, feeling crappy about school, feeling crappy about my social life, feeling crappy about everything in general, for no good reason. Then out of nowhere, a flashback occurred. (Yes, those generally only happen in movies. But they are happening more and more frequently in my life. What the hell does that mean?)

It was from this summer, in July after I had gotten back from Scotland. I was back on the edge of the lake on the lake property we have in Indiana (it sounds regal and expensive but I can promise you it's not. It belonged to my grandparents; it's not like we have a cabin on the lake... which makes us stand out from many Minnesotans, who do. I think we're actually the only people in the entire state who travel south to stay on the water). I was sitting in a plastic lawn chair, watching my cousins cruise around in their speedboat and enjoying a tasty beverage with my parents. It was a bright, warm, sunny PERFECT day, before the absurd Hoosier humidity set in.

I realize that this very well might have been the happiest moment of my entire summer. Perhaps the entire year so far. It's weird to think in that moment, I was truly, totally happy. I was on a post-Scotland high, the stress of the class being over and the memories of my adventure still potent. It was before the difficult issues with my relatives came up. It was before I realized that [No-Mr-Darcy] was never going to text me. It was before I realized that this year was just going to be another school year. It was still when I had sheer, unadulterated joy and hope.

Not to say I have no joy or hope now. I do; it's just far more muted than it was then. But for some reason, when this memory flashed back through my mind, I felt less numb, less pissed off, just generally HAPPIER. Maybe because it was the last bit of relaxation I got before real stress started setting back in. Stress from going back to school. Stress from friend issues. Stress from my family - not my parents, but my extended family. There was inner peace I had that I just haven't acquired since then. The closest I get is when I remember this day. What the hell is that about?

Not to say I've been totally utterly miserable the last few months - I of course haven't. I have had some fabulous days. Going out and trying new things with [Львица]. Going to Radio K. Meeting up with my parents. Talking to one of my professors from last year about how awesome Scotland is. Writing on this blog. But still, at the end of the day, when I get ready for bed, this lingering, dull ache that appears in my gut. And I just wish I could get it to go away. It's putting me in a blue funk and ruining my positive outlook on things. It's like I feel homesick... but for what, I have no idea. I've never been homesick for Indiana. I don't want to go back there. But I feel like it's representing something in my mind. Or maybe I'm just thinking too hard about this.

Okay, maybe I do miss Indiana a bit. Or maybe this song always makes me tear up with a weird element of Hoosier pride (by the way, this is not Indiana's state song - which is "On the Banks of the Wabash, Far Away." It's mentioned, but "Back Home Again in Indiana" is actually just more popular than the actual state song). But I still think this is a cover for something deeper. Besides, this song made me feel homesick even when I lived in Indiana. 'Tis the nature of the song.

Whatever is bothering me, it's more than [No-Mr-Darcy]. It's more than school. It's more than [X]. It's more than work. I hope it's not just a 20-something's ennui with being single, being strange, and being studious. I've complained about these things until I'm blue in the face. It's something else. Like tonight... out of nowhere, I suddenly had the urge to cry. Well, not out of nowhere - there must be some reason. I just don't know what it is yet.

Maybe it's time I try something else. Maybe it's time to talk about things I've been mostly silent about thus far - Indiana, my family, glimpses of the past. Why not start tomorrow? It seems like a good time. After all, tomorrow a huge family event is occurring. One that just might change everything.

Cussing Rabbits = Love

This is Sid. And because of Sid, the fact that I can't sleep just got way less important. Seriously, I just heard Beirut on David Letterman, which was a nice perk. And then the first thing I see on The Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson is Sid. Who is the best.

You see, Craig Ferguson for reasons unknown to me likes using puppets sometimes to start off his show. And Sid is my personal favorite. He looks cute, cuddly, and adorable. His voice apparently sounds a bit like David Beckham. And he's from South London and swears like a sailor. The paradoxical relationship between cute, cuddly toy and swearing, rabid creature is wonderful. Especially when you've just realized that lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and crying and feeling sorry for yourself is a waste of your time and, as it is conveniently 11:30 pm Central time, you might as well get up and watch your favorite show. And thus, my insomnia was rewarded by Sid. Thank you, Craig Ferguson and writers of CBS, for understanding my insomnia to a T. Even the theme song says it all...

The Next Step in Home Security?

I'd love to get one of these for the apartment, but I'm pretty sure it would blow the building up. Check out this new bot that can pack quite a punch: Homemade Robot Can Shoot 1000 Rounds.

Yeah... thinking that if that ever went rouge our entire campus would be screwed.

Another Disaster, Another Day

Today, I was hoping to get the bulk of my homework done today so I could relax this weekend. Ha. Right.

Yesterday, we had an issue up in apartment 306 with a toilet that wouldn't stop flushing so our handyman had to run out here and temporarily fix it until he could return today to figure out what the hell was going. But then, this morning, [Львица] called me and said that water was gushing out of 306 and that there was some issue in 206.

For some ungodly reason, water erupted from the walls of 306 when one of the girls in 206 turned on their shower. Their bathroom in 306 filled with water, which then gushed "like a waterfall" down through the doorway of the bathroom doorway of 206.

Sad day. Just... yeah. Sad day.

I hate plumbing. I really do. I've inhereited it from my father. He can deal with any home improvement issue, as long as it doesn't involve complicated electrical wiring or plumbing. Because when it comes to plumbing... well, there's a reason it takes some serious training to know what the hell is going on there. I generally love water - when it's not being routed through pipe systems that seem rather faulty and enjoy ruining a perfectly good Friday morning. Because the plumbing in this building seems to be possessed. And it's sending me into hysterics.

Yep, plumbing issues turn me into Leopold Bloom from The Producers. Who knew?

That being said, I feel like no matter how crazy things are around here, the residents of this building are to be commended. Not only did they choose cheaper housing over the fancy-pants places like the Dinkydome (okay, so maybe they didn't choose, exactly, but there are other places that cost only a little more than here and are... shall we say, more luxurious) they also chose minimalist living (meaning you don't get a lot of perks. No exercise room, no free laundry, no plasma TVs and cable in each unit. And yes, to those of you who didn't know that, some college apartments come with this stuff now).  Probably because minimalist living is a bit cheaper (though really, FloCo just down the street doesn't cost that much more. It's just brand-new and filled up faster than Adele tickets sell out. Okay, okay, not that fast. But you get the idea). Also, our residents are to be commended for their patience. Seriously, water exploding out of the walls? Not something you want to deal with very often. And yet they haven't flipped out on us. Well, not a total meltdown yet. Everyone has been very kind and forgiving so far. Except for you, 303. You know why.

I bring this up to remind myself that I'm doing this for them, the college students who choose a "distinctive" building with "character" and are making the best of it. If they weren't so fabulous, our job would be much, much harder. It's better to deal with just the exploding pipes, rather than exploding pipes and emotions. Knock on wood... I'm probably tempting fate now. Alas.

Google, I have underestimated you...

Again, technology has proven to me that I should never, never NEVER judge it only by face value.

Take Blogger (run by Google) for example. The entity that it is and I have had a long string of miscommunications. Such as not telling me that I could update Blogger and do cooler things with my blog until I'd already complained about it for two weeks and resulted in me looking like an idiot. And then I tried using Google Chrome, only to find that it did nothing different than Firefox. And then I've had a million little squabbles with Gmail, because my university email system runs on Google and it doesn't cooperate and...

*Sigh*... It's not really Google's fault... technology is just complicated. But don't you think, Google overlords, some things could be made a little simpler?

But then today.... ah, today. I discovered that Google has some pretty awesome capabilities that make my life as a culture vulture much easier. They are as follows:

1) Google Image Searches just got badass: You can now search BY images. You can drag it into the search box and it will guess what you're looking for. TRY IT. It makes me feel like a 21st century techno-nerd. And finally I can figure out what the hell these random images I've stumbled across online are.

2) Google trends: Find out what hot searches are (today's top five are Seal Beach CA, David Ortiz, Texas Rangers, Danielle Chiesi, and Ellen Degeneres Show). Also find a way to drag into your website people for no reason other than the fact you mentioned something you searched for (hey, it's working pretty well on the post with the Nicholas Cage vampire photo. If you were looking for the photo and got directed here, sorry about that. Isn't Google just a blast? :P)

3) Google Zeitgeist: Okay, admittedly, this kept freezing on my computer, but it's supposed to show you how cultural trends were searched over the course of the year across the globe. Like it can show you a graphic of how many people searched about information regarding the South Africa World Cup and which countries searched it the most. It's pretty cool - if you can get it to work.

This being said, I am now having trouble getting comment boxes to appear on my blog after changing the format. I select that comments should be allowed and Blogger immediately forgets I've done it. So, what have we learned about technology today, children? It's complicated, it's wonderful, it's trying my patience, and we couldn't live with out it. Now to see if I can finally get those comment-y things to work right...

Again with the updating... and the changing...

Yes, yes, I know. I changed how the blog looks again. But I just got a Tumblr (yay for Tumblr! Check it out at http://culturevulture0.tumblr.com/) and, after doing the whole layout thing, I realized that the orange here is tad to harsh on the eyes. So I went with a nice "soft, coal black." So yeah. There you go. Enjoy the new layout.

Look at this f@*#ing hipster

I may call myself a hipster (somewhat ironically). I may think I know hipsters. Oh no...no... I know nothing. THIS is a hipster.

*this is a terrified, high pitch scream that only dogs and gummy bears can hear*

Apparently this individual is also dying his hair blue. Usually I'm cool with hipsters. But this... this is too much. You hear me, [hahahaha SHUT UP]? Too much.

Not that you care. Not that anyone cares. Not that I even care. I just like to hear myself talk. And say hipster. It's a fun word, isn't it?

I didn't watch the debate BUT...

Like the title says, I didn't watch tonight's GOP debate. I was busy studying for a psych and Italian test. However, I did come across this wonderful picture in the Star Tribune:

This photo is so great. I have no idea what's going on here, but the expression on Romney's face... and Ron Paul... :D

Say what you will about Ron Paul, he makes the debates pretty interesting. I'm no libertarian (well, I could be in some aspects I could be but I think many libertarians would be appalled by many of my views) but I like the guy. It's probably because he's an underdog and the media ignores him. And he makes expressions like that. Now I'm totally wishing I'd watched the debates. Next time, Ron Paul. Next time.

Mischief Night

So the other day, I believe I made a reference to trying to make up for the disaster that was last Halloween.

This requires some explaining.

Okay, so it wasn't really that bad. But I'm sure [Львица] would tell me that's rosy retrospection talking. And she'd be right.

It kind of felt like this...

Hipster Time Traveler?

 So while trying to plan a Halloween costume and doing research for a writing project (*cough,* not school writing, fictional writing) I stumbled across this article: Time Traveler Caught in Museum Photo?

Here's the gist: apparently, a photo in a museum in British Columbia shows a guy at a bridge reopening in the 1940s who just... doesn't quite fit in.

Mr. Sunglasses there just kind of stands out once you see him.

However, the article does explain how his clothes aren't as anachronistic as we'd like to think. And that this could be a hoax. So all it really proves is that there were hipsters in the 1940s.

How about that.

However, there are apparently people out there who claim to be time travelers. Like this guy named Andrew Carlssin, who claimed to be from 2256. And a John Titor, who's name actually came up online amongst my searching (and whom I must find more about...) who's part of online forums discussing time travel. Which he claims he does.

Which leaves me two ideas:

1) Write about time traveling for my senior paper. Interview John Titor. Write a ground-breaking book about our fascination with the past and the future.

or...

2) Start blogging as a time traveler. Become famous. Write a ground-breaking book about our fascination with the past and the future.

Clearly I'm not going to do #2, as I just gave it away. And it would be dishonest. But regardless, this is something I'm going to have to look into more. I don't care if it's fake; it's a cultural phenomenon, and I'm intrigued. Besides, deep deep down we all know I just want to work for X Files or Doctor Who/ Torchwood or something. And this is as close as I'm going to get.

So, onwards! Time for me to dive into some interweb forums and start perusing the unexplainable. And finding weird shit. Lots and lots of weird shit.

Spy Movie + Scotland = WIN

Found this on Twitter: James Bond film finale to be shot at Duntrune Castle.

Two reasons why this is awesome: 1) James Bond fighting at his birthplace? For the win. 2) Filming in Scotland? YES.

And on that note, there's two movies coming out taking place in Scotland, one with Ewan McGregor and the other with David Tennant? Keeping that in mind :)

A little Sunday outing

Today I took a jaunt through an apple orchard and a pumpkin patch with [Львица] and her mother and sister. What a beautiful way to spend a sunny, 80 degree Sunday afternoon.

[Side note - Not that I'm complaining, though I am a little bit because our apartment building retains heat like a greenhouse, but how is it 80 degrees in October in Minnesota? THIS TIME LAST YEAR WE HAD GOTTEN SNOW. Not that I want the snow just yet. It's just I'm longing for crisp days and cold nights. Though this hot spell reminds me strongly of Indiana.]

The apple orchard was cool. Okay, it was more of a store than an orchard, not like the one I went to in sophomore year with [X] and [it's a twin thing] and their parents which actually required us to pick apples and put them in a bucket (fun and an iconic autumn event, but quite difficult if you don't what kind of apple you are looking for). Regardless, I got honeycrisp apples and apple cookies and STRUDEL. And I learned what lefse is (Norwegian potato pancakes. Norwegians baffling me with their cuisine once again!).

And off to a pumpkin patch. I was sort of startled to realize that I, a red-blooded young Midwestern American woman, have never been to an actual pumpkin patch to get pumpkins. Or maybe I did when I was much younger but I don't remember it now. Regardless, it was... magical. I know that sounds bizarre. But there's something about this time of year that is really unlike any other season. There's a scent in the air that appears at no other time, there's a glimpse of possibility, the chance that anything could happen.

Maybe it's the little kid trapped in me that always thought something crazy was going to happen around Halloween. I always wanted to get whisked off to some magical land or fight some sort of otherworldly creature. There's something about this month that's just... exciting.

Deep down I know it's just another month, another time of the year. But it never feels just like that. There's something that jumps into my bloodstream when the leaves start changing and the corn starts getting harvested that makes me a little... well, a little crazy.

I also find myself thinking about Indiana a lot this time of year. Probably because of the corn harvesting (stereotype that Indiana is nothing but corn? Not one hundred percent true, but trust me - there is a HELL of a lot of corn). And also because all of my childhood Halloween experiences happened there. I never really picked up trick-or-treating after I moved to Minnesota because I didn't have anyone to go with and then I got to old and then it got weird. Yay.

But when I was little, I used to count down the days until Halloween. I wrote short stories about it. I spent months planning my costume. I looked forward to all the movies and TV shows with Halloween themes (my personal favorite? One I've actually seen in recent years - the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode where everyone turns into their costumes). I was quite obsessed.

I still am. I just want to run around in a costume for the rest of the month, eat candy, embrace the whimsical and morbid experience that is Halloween. Why do I get this way? I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with being born this time of year. Maybe Halloween is a Scorpio's idea of a perfect holiday (except that I like Christmas too. Like a ton).

But Halloween feels more than a holiday... it's historical. Like Jack-o-lanterns, stemming from the old Celtic tradition of carving gourds to keep away evil spirits (or so I recall reading somewhere. Or watching on that God-awful film reel in Catholic school). It's also controversial. Like the people who won't celebrate Halloween because they think it's a Satanic holiday. I love controversy.

Usually, I don't get this gung-ho about Halloween. While in school, away from all decorations and stores selling stuff for the parties and trick-or-treating, it's easy to forget. Maybe because the season is so weird with the strange weather that it's gotten my attention, reminding me of fall days in Indiana (going to the orchard reminded me of Indiana big time. Selling homemade fudge and apple pies and such  - it was a flashback to Brown County, where the town of Nashville is. Yes, there is a Nashville, Indiana. A bit unfortunate. Anyway, it's the classic old-style town that has a bunch of shops. A bit like Northfield I suppose, for you Minnesotans out there. My parents and I used to go there every year in the fall and they had they BEST fudge in the world. Sometimes I miss Indiana. Just a bit. ) Or maybe it's me trying to make up for last year's Halloween disaster (more about that later). For whatever reason, I've gone bananas over Halloween this year. I want to do something awesome, have a fantastic costume, really REALLY have an American Halloween celebration this year. Maybe because I feel like I don't really know what that means. And I want to find out.

No idea what this means... let's make it a goal to find out, shall we? ;)

A Little Prelude For Halloween

I came across this article online this morning: 'Corpse bride' and groom stage morbid wedding. Which I found because a Facebook friend posted this pic from a Vogue photo shoot for an idea of what she want to dress up as for Halloween.

And then I looked at more photos from the photo shoot...

And if you're not totally eeried out yet, I've had these two songs by Jeremy Messersmith stuck in my head the past two days that also deal with bones and death and such (because I heard about how he was performing a concert in the oldest cemetery in Mineapolis yesterday afternoon to fund-raise for the historic graveyard and I started listening to his music and now it's totally trapped in my head).

Why is there so much stuff about cemeteries and skeletons and the like popping up in the last few days? Maybe it's just standing out because this stuff really gives me the chills. Or because writing fiction about people who can't die really gets you thinking about death. Or maybe because it's NEARLY HALLOWEEN. 'Tis the season.

Theory Land

Now that I've spent the bulk of my week getting over the flu, studying for a variety of tests and trying to figure out how the hell someone might become immortal (it's for a my personal writing work and WHY must I always find the hardest fucking things to write about is beyond me...) it feels good to get back to some serious, solid blogging.

Whatever the hell that is.

And lo and behold - a topic has found itself prominent in my mind once more: theory.

I feel like I have spent too much time this year reading the same stuff over and over and over in regards to Cultural Studies. I took a 1000 level course last spring (that operated much more like an 8000 level) and now, in this 5000 class (which is like senior-beginning grad school realm) I feel like I basically already know this stuff. I mean, the prof highlights some new things but, for the most part, I've got the origins of CSCL under my belt.

Which means now I'm just trapped in the realm of reading theory. More and more and more theory.

Here's the deal - on any given day, I don't usually mind reading philosophy/theoretical texts. Foucault? Bring it on. Adam Smith? Love the guy (Theory of Moral Sentiments for the win!) Hobbes, Thoreau, Rousseau, Bordo? All things I have read, read part of, will read, will re-read (Bordo refers to Susan Bordo, author on gender studies; she's pretty awesome).

But somehow... somehow I have gotten myself stuck in the "hey, guess what, our world sucks and we don't know what to do about it" realm of theory. The post-modernists or something. IT IS KILLING ME.

Generally, I wouldn't mind reading this stuff. Disagreement or lack of interest isn't the issue - I am interested and I don't totally disagree with what they are saying; and even when I do, I don't mind, I like reading stuff I disagree with. But something... something about these readings are rubbing me the wrong way.

The Neckbrace Adds Ten Pounds

Something about Saturday was absolutely beautiful. I'm talking last Saturday afternoon, sitting at a stage at the Renaissance Festival, watching the sunlight stream through the breaks between the multi-colored leaves on the branches, the smell of turkey legs and dust and burning wood in the air and the feeling that I was in some sort of time outside of time. Being at the Ren Fest is not about historical accuracy, clearly. Everyone is dressed in... well, whatever. Some people come in street clothes, some, like [Львица] and myself, have costumes that shift somewhere between the Middle Ages and the Baroque period. Although last week - closing weekend - I did see someone dressed as Death and someone dressed as Jesus. Right next to each other. Win.

I've seen more confusing wardrobe choices - a manga-sort character. A man dressed as a 1950's funeral parlor zombie. A guy in a neckbrace in some sort of greenish plastic tube top and shorts (I think he was wearing shorts. Or maybe it was some sort of wrap skirt) complaining about how fat he was (he was stick-thin, but whatever) and the girl he was with telling him the neckbrace adds ten pounds. Next year, I'm on the look-out for someone dressed as a time lord (actually, it makes more sense to see the Doctor than it does to see Jesus. Sorry, it's the truth).

Case and point - the Ren Fest is not so much about the Renaissance sometimes. Sometimes it's an excuse to dress up - sometimes it goes to far that direction, I agree. But it's also a sort of escape - not in a depressing, "oh, my life is too much!" kind of way, but more of a way to get outside of what we're used to. We don't go around wearing corsets, trying to do without modern technology,  living under monarchs and that sort of things. It's a taste of fantasy, a bit of time travel mixed with fairy tales. It's not perfect - sometimes it's awkward. But it's usually a lot of fun.

And for those of you who think it's only for nerds, check out the pickle men and the belly dancers. You will be sadly mistaken.

FIAT, parte due

Okay, you should probs watch this video, if not to see an awesome car, then to hear a sweet remix of a Vivaldi Concerto by the Glitch Mob. It's pretty much the greatest thing I've seen today (other than the A I got on my Italian test which I took with a 101 degree fever).

Here's to the crazy ones

Cute pick from BBC article: The Cult of Steve Jobs

<3 <3 <3