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.

Resolved

http://www.decibelmagazine.com

Well, it's New Year's Eve. And you know what that means: resolutions. Usually for me this means going to a friend's house for a New Year's Party, feeling awkward, hearing everyone talk about how they feel overweight and how their resolutions for next year are to loose weight and find their soul mate, and then feeling like a douche when you make a witty or personal resolution.

You can see why I'd be a little reluctant to make my own. But I'm going to. Because I know what I'm capable of and what I want. And I know what I want to challenge myself to do. It's not going to be anything simple or petty or what I think people want to hear or what my insecurities make me think. It's going to be legit :D So here we go.

1) Work Out: I don't mean loose weight. At all. I don't need to loose weight, goddammit. That said, I would like to feel more fit. I can't help wanting to get rid of my love handles and maybe feeling like I could be a ninja, work for Torchwood, or survive a zombie apocalypse (or at least, you know, run without hurting my pathetically weak ankles). Namely, I want to feel more bad-ass and build some more self-esteem. So gym time it is.

2) No more putdowns directed at myself: There are enough people out there putting me down each day without me needing to do it myself. I don't know where this whole negativism thing started (Catholic school humbleness gone wrong, too many friends who've ditched me, too many friends who have insecurities themselves and reverse it by slamming me) but there's no use for it. There's no reason to blame myself for things THAT WEREN'T MY FAULT. I know what my faults are. And they don't need to be over-analyzed or blamed all the time.

3) Write a goddamn novel: Self-explanatory. I've got two started right now. If I can finish at least one (not totally finish, but get an end and a solid draft) I will be pretty damn proud of myself.

4) Be What I Am: I'm already doing pretty well this but, you know, it doesn't hurt to remind myself to stick with it :)

So Happy New Years, world - I'm gonna sign off and eat some tacos and drink some champagne. See you in 2012!

Dynamic Duos

Okay, I had a minor freak-out Wednesday night about having a loose, festering flap of skin on my gums last night post-wisdom teeth removal but it appears that's all for naught. It was gone by Thursday morning and my jaw is beginning to feel much better - even if eating food is still rather difficult.

Being rather limited to my activities has allowed me to return to back to some good old reading - namely Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin series. I've read The Mauritius Command and am working my way through Desolation Island. I'm a little disappointed at the lack of Diana Villiers but maybe that's for the best - she'd probably just make Maturin really upset (more upset at her than he already is now) and make me totally pissed off. So a little break from Villiers drama probably isn't such bad thing for the series.

One things I'm really glad to have back is the epic bromance that is Aubrey and Maturin's relationship (bromance is totally the wrong term for it, but there's only so many times in my day that I get to use it, so forgive me). Seriously, these guys have a fantastic friendship. The way they interact with each other is really amusing and, well, real. They're a really powerful duo, even if they don't always get along, and I think that's one reason I find the books so fascinating.

And being the Doctor Who geek I've become, I can't help comparing Captain Jack Aubrey and Doctor Stephen Maturin to Captain Jack Harkness and the Doctor from Doctor Who. Admittedly, I haven't seen A LOT of Doctor Who with Jack Harkness yet (only season one) but the interaction I've seen so far between the Doctor and Captain Jack is pretty fantastic. Also, picturing a cross-over between the two series is awesome - I think both Captain Jacks would have some pretty fun conversations (especially with Aubrey's tenancies of being a ladies' man, and Harkness being flirtatious with anyone and everyone). And both Doctors would have some pretty great discussions, I think.

Doctor, meet the Doctor. Captain Jack, meet Captain Jack. Let the weirdness of this moment commence.

(Side note - do you know how hard it was to find an picture of Jack in the Doctor together without them snogging? Rather more difficult than I'd presumed :P)

A Christmas Carol (and money murmurings)

Ah, feeling much less zombie-like today. I'm refusing to take pain killers, because I'm a freak, so I can feel the dull ache of where my wisdom teeth should be. And somehow that makes me feel better. Or maybe because I'm refusing to let myself sit on the couch and watch bad TV and feel sorry for myself. I am rather shocked by the fact that Vicodin does absolutely nothing to me. Seriously, I took some last night, hoping to knock myself into a pain-free state of unconsciousness. And nothing happened. I felt relaxed but my jaw still ached and I felt... well, as crummy as I had before. So I've no idea why people find Vicodin so addicting - it certainly does nothing to me.

That being said, I'm going to write an obligatory Christmas post. Because I had a totally rockin' Christmas. It was just with my parents, as it always is now - the drive back to Indiana during winter is a bad idea, considering that snow storms like to spring up out of no where (even if we did have a brown Christmas this year, Indiana still gets some crazy weather). But honestly, it's better with just my parents. No awkward "I don't know what to get you since I don't know you" instances. No feelings of injustice when relatives are not wowed by my academic prowess or year of accomplishments and would rather chat about small-town gossip. No pissed-off Mom and Dad spending the next few weeks being upset with their relatives or in-laws for being socially awkward and self-centered. So, really, staying home is much more in the spirit of the holidays.

http://freethoughtblogs.com

This year, for I think the first time in my entire life, I got everything I asked for on my Christmas list. Which is crazy - I mean, I asked for some crazy stuff - TV seasons, a bunch of books. No fancy electronics, but fairly expensive things. It's not like my parents have failed to fulfill my Christmas lists before. It's just that this one had lost of "optional" things on it - and I got those things too. I am now in possession of the entire released seasons of Torchwood (no Miracle Day because it's not out in the US yet) and Season 1 of Doctor Who (which I am forcing my parents to watch and they actually LIKE it. And I no longer have to keep trying and failing to describe what a Dalek is). I also am now in possession of enough John Barrowman CDs and books to officially be considered nuts. And my parents surprised me with nice pair of Celtic-style earrings. They know me too well :D It's sort of strange for me to get all of this stuff. I mean, I am an only child and thus may be on the verge of being spoiled. But, in a shitty economy, it's weird to see that money - at least for my parents - isn't a problem (my own expenses, of course, is another story). My dad admits to denying things for years because they don't want to buy on credit, but rather be able to buy with the money they have in the bank. And now that they are growing older, they aren't as worried about splurging and going all out for Christmas. I don't have a new iPod or a new phone or anything like that (mainly because I don't WANT one). But I do have a lot of nice things my parents didn't have to get me that I could have lived without - but got anyway. I feel like our gifts have gotten more expensive, more refined... and I don't know what that means. Yes, my parents have a lot more money now than they did when we first moved to Minnesota. They have a lot more money this year than they did five years ago. And it's a weird sort of situation I'm not used to. I mean, I spent two years of my life in a mobile home while my dad was in grad school. We weren't poor; we just didn't want to spend money we didn't need to when we had a place to stay (the lake home which belonged to my grandmother) while my dad was in school. I guess money has been on my mind a lot this year because of different expenses associated with apartment living and learning what my family's income is and with the OWSers screaming for the 1% to share their assets. And I don't know where I fit in this picture anymore. As an independent student with a very low income, well-off parents and a simultaneous desirous yet tight-fisted nature, it's hard for me to know where I stand. But I'm totally digressing right now...

Of course, Christmas isn't all about the getting but also about the giving. Which, despite my stress about getting something fabulous for my parents, worked out easier than I thought it would. I got my dad a nice tie and a set of whisky glasses. And I got my mom some decorative throw pillows and a nice purse (from Macy's - I actually found an affordable, nice purse at Macy's. It made my life).

But overall, things just felt... Christmas-y this year. This time of year brings out the Anglophile in me (I blame being in London for New Years in my sophomore year of high school. And J.K Rowling. And the British just being epic when it comes to celebrating Christmas) and, considering my absorption of British culture, there was plenty of that around me this year. But even going to Christmas Eve mass stimulated it - they had a Renaissance choir that sang throughout the mass. And yet... it's more than just feeling like things are more picturesque for Christmas (despite the lack of snow). My attitude is better in general. I feel more forgiving, more hopeful. More me. And it's a great way to end the year. Yes, I've been grumpy and blue for the last few days because I've had four teeth ripped out of my head. But overall, I'm feeling good. A fantastic way to end a rather exciting but tumultuous year. Which reminds me, I should start making my list of New Year's resolutions - and this year, they are going to ROCK.

I'm not feeling any wiser...

I have about a million posts I was hoping to write this week, but no such luck. I got my wisdom teeth removed yesterday and now my jaw is aching, oozing and just generally making my life miserable. Yay. So, hopefully in the next few days I will feel less like a crummy blob of injured tissue and will be able to return to my jovial blogging self.

But we'll see... Meanwhile, enjoy this photo. It's not me, but totally how I looked and felt yesterday. Stupid useless wisdom teeth...

http://2.bp.blogspot.com

A Little Something for the Solstice

Can't go wrong with some Mumford and Sons...

Inked

Well, I did it. After two years of flip-flopping. I finally got a tattoo.

HELL YES.

That is on my back. PERMANENTLY. And I couldn't be happier about it.

Somewhere, in between the madness that was the Christmas party drama and the beginning of finals, I thought about getting a tattoo again. I'd wanted to for my birthday, but I'd been doubting about what I wanted (a ship? something Celtic themed? something to remind me Scotland?). But I was doubtful of getting something Scottish, because I had the desire to actually get it done IN Scotland. But considering I won't be going back there any time soon and because I don't want to cause a conflict, being the odd American who wants something Scottish and seem like a dumb tourist, I just decided I should get what I want now. I'd been toying with a design like this, with the Celtic knots/ trinity theme (I wanted to get the Celtic trinity on it's own but couldn't decide on a style - there's like twenty different ways of drawing it). And I liked the English Tudor rose and thistle intertwined (the rose is a symbol of England, the thistle of Scotland, and they were combined together to represent the marriage of Margaret Tudor and James IV, I believe). However, when I saw this design, I knew it was it. It's not the Tudor rose, just a traditional rose - and also the national flower of the United States. Two birds with one stone there. Plus it's got the Celtic Trinity knot there. And it really represents a lot of things to me personally - the rugged, bristly, strong and confident attitude of the thistle and the sweet, elegant but thorny nature of the rose. And it's super cute.

The tattooing process itself wasn't as bad as I expected. It felt rather like a cat scratching a really bad sunburn. I didn't cry, surprisingly, and according to [Львица], I didn't even flinch. Although managing to fall on the ice and scraping/bruising my knee on the way to the parlor hurt far worse and distracted me somewhat from the tattooing pain.

Another major win was the price.[Львица] was telling me that a parlor on campus told her the tattoo she wanted would be around $300-$400 so I braced myself for a steep cost. But since the process took only about an hour and Uptown Tattoo only charges $150 per hour, it was only $150. One of [Львица]'s friends spent that much just to get one word tattooed on her. Did I get a hell of a deal from the best tattoo parlor in Minneapolis? I THINK YES :D

Despite the fact that [wolf woman] described my tattoo as  "cool how you combined the plants with the celtic knot" (plants? PLANTS?! THEY NATIONAL FLOWERS! R-E-S-P-E-C-T!) (and I also didn't actually "combine them" - I didn't make the design; that's giving me far too much credit) the reception has been really good. Even my dad likes the design and the placement of it. Although both my parents were totally cool with me getting a tattoo. Surprisingly cool. Though I suppose if I was getting it on my face it'd be a different story.


And I'm already thinking about getting another tattoo... some day. I had an offer from a friend in my Italian class to design something for me. And she does really cute cartoon-y type stuff so I'll have to take her up on that. I'm thinking something with teacups... or chipmunks. I think a chipmunk might be my spirit animal...

Randomness

I have survived the bulk of my finals (yay!), with only a social psych test (which I can use a cheat sheet on and already have pwned the class) left. So on that note, I would like to share a few random searches that have lead back to my blog.

- Nazi Vampires eating babies: I truly have no idea what this means. Seriously, I don't - something to do with Hellsing, which is a manga I haven't read... so still clueless. Sorry, guys.  I have a feeling such searches have arrived here, very disappointed.

- Byronic hero: Glad to see that one of my favorite character styles from English literature is oft searched after. Perhaps I shall do more follow up on this theme. Just in case would-be high school essay writers need some assistance.

- Nicholas Cage Vampire: Yes. Thank you, urban legends and my weird fascination in them for providing me with page views.

- Stephen Maturin: Ha! Someone else knows who this character by Patrick O'Brian. Win.

- The Producers Leopold Bloom Hysterics: It's really difficult to find funny scenes from this movie, especially this part of it. And according to [Львица], who searched this and ended up back at my blog, really the only available one is posted here. Cool beans.

- John Barrowman looking like Tom Cruise: This is personally my favorite. See, I am not alone in this realization.

http://www.prlookup.com

http://scifi.soentertain.me

Still weird. Will always be weird. And Barrowman will always be hotter.

Also, Tom Cruise looks like Zachary Quinto in this picture:

http://www.charlesayoub.com

http://www.tvpilotlight.com

 OH MY GOD TOM CRUISE STOP LOOKING LIKE OTHER HOT ACTORS. YOU'RE NOT THAT HOT...

Well, maybe he is... a little bit.

AHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOO... God dammit.

The Joy of Finals

Yep. That time of year. My biggest accomplishment has involved developing how Leopold from Kate and Leopold could aid capitalism. And making this photo:

Right now I have to drive myself partially insane studying for an evil psych exam. So enjoy this in my absence.