In other news, Queen Elizabeth wore sunscreen

*snerk* I guess I'd better share my own found hilarity from today. I can't pull a quote. The whole thing is idiotic. Linky here at the New York Times(But of course), but I just had to quote the whole thing and add my own comments. Can you tell it's finally a slow day?

My comments in bold.

WASHINGTON — The White House is bugged!

No, not like that. But actual flies are swarming the place, confounding housekeepers, irritating aides, even trying to feast on the president. During an East Room interview with John Harwood for CNBC and The New York Times on Tuesday, a giant fly orbited Mr. Obama’s head. (OH NOES! He's under ATTACK!)

“I got the sucker,” the president boasted after fatally slapping the critter on the back of his hand. (MAH HERO!)

That scene became an instant YouTube sensation — and resulted in a complaint from the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. (Okay, enough with the sarcasm for a moment. I mean, seriously. PETA has an issue with swatting a fly. A. Fly. It's not like these things are endangered, are cute, provide valuable resources that its other 50 trillion still-living relatives can't, or could be someone's pet.)

“Well, I guess it can’t be said that President Obama wouldn’t hurt a fly,” (There's a dark, twisted side to the Hero! Alas!) lamented Alisa Mullins of PETA on the organization’s blog. The animal rights group announced that it would send over one of its Katcha Bug Humane Bug Catcher (SRSLY?) contraptions to the White House in the event of “future insect incidents.” (And that ends the report on bombings in Israel, and Iran's nuclear threat. BREAKING NEWS JUST IN! There's ANOTHER fly at the White House!)

White House staff members report that they and their boss have been routinely bothered by the bugs (Well, whadda ya know, flies are not respectors of position), and have seen the First Exterminator personally enforcing a no-fly zone in the West Wing. (Oh, hardy har har. I get it. Funny.)

“He chases them down in the Oval with his briefing papers to smack them,” (Picture, for a moment, this scene. Okay, continue with what you were doing and try not to snicker.) reports Austan Goolsbee, a member of the president’s Council of Economic Advisers.

(Question: How’d you like to be a fly on the wall in the Oval Office these days? Answer: Not so much.) (Ha. Ha. Ha ha ha.)

White House officials say that strenuous debugging measures have been undertaken in recent weeks: Anti-insect lights have been installed in the National Security Council suite and the lower press office. Staff members have been issued fly swatters, and one, Brian Mosteller, stood at the ready during Mr. Obama’s television interviews on Tuesday (a lot of good he did). Some staff members have requested chemical intervention but have been denied. (YOU MIGHT HURT THEM LITTLE BUGGERS!)

It’s not clear why there has been so much buzz in the Obama White House. The chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel, who swatted at a fly in a recent interview, (Apparently we need up-to-the-minute information on his minions' bug problems too.) has blamed the opening of vents in the West Wing for the infestation, while Mr. Obama’s senior adviser, David Axelrod, has blamed careless staff members who forgot to close unscreened windows, an official said. (The details are fuzzy, and mudslinging abounds. Blame is being passed back and forth. A SWAT team [no pun intended, I promise] is closing in on a suspect as we speak.)

There are numerous accounts of infestations in previous administrations, including a cameo by a fly during an Associated Press interview with Vice President Dick Cheney just a few days before Mr. Obama was sworn into office. (CHENEY! HE DID IT! Why, that slimy, no good Republican!)

“We always had a lot of fly swatters at the ready, too,” said Dana Perino, a spokesman for former President George W. Bush. “We probably inherited the problems from the last administration.” (Oh, wait. It's Bush AND Cheny! And Karl Rove! And Enron! And HALLIBURTON! HALIBURTON!)

Just...... wow. It's not like it's even a slow news day.

Update on Life

Last year, I was a student worker, meaning I was paid next to nothing, AND having to pay for "co-op classes" in order to qualify for the job. These "classes" were a complete waste (3 credits per semester - I figured out it was effectively taking $1 per hour from my paycheck - with nothing but a paper on "How to Write a Better Resume" or other such junk). In December, I was laid off, along with all but one of the students in my department - they kept her because she was new, and therefore not due for a raise for a year. Since I was a student worker, I was unqualified for unemployment.

I had been saving up what little I could spare to buy a car, but those funds had to be transferred from luxuries like reliable transportation, to food and gas. I had been the only income for my family, as neither of my parents had been able to find a job (with 12.9% unemployment in the state, and worse percentages in our specific area, that's probably still not going to happen). I hadn't been paying much towards bills and such (Making $8.50/hour, 20 hours a week), but I was still helping out as much as I could. Now I couldn't help at all.

After six months of job searches - starting my search with web development (my profession of choice), then tech support, then secretarial, all the way down to fast food - no one was hiring. My savings were almost gone.

Then I got an email. Offering an interview for a full-time position as a web technician. The name looked familiar, but only vaguely. Then I remembered that I had applied nearly three months earlier via Monster. I quickly scheduled an interview for two days later. Right after I hung up, another place called, that I had applied to a week before, to set up an interview. This place was offering a part-time secretarial job.

I went to both interviews, thinking it was far more likely I'd get the secretarial job, if I even had a shot at either. But a few days went by with no contact from either. I know that's common, but I was getting depressed.

Then I got an email. I got the job as a web technician.

Full-time. Far more per hour than my student job. Benefits, vacation, everything. You may laugh at how excited I am to get those, but not only is this the first job I have had that actually includes those, I have not had insurance for over five years.

Best part? I found out I actually know some people working in the same building (I'm going to be working for a subcontractor), and they say that this place is not only great, but my to-be-coworkers are as well.

I start on Monday.

Murphy: 5,873 Me: 0

Events of the day:

Wake up.

Eat mushy, tasteless oatmeal without enough brown sugar.

Clean garage.

Move wood outside.

Stain wood, which is on sawhorses just low enough so that your back hurts after 5 minutes and doesn't stop.

Quickly move wood inside as it starts pouring rain.

Determine the rain messed up the entire batch of stained wood, and will have to sand it down and start over.

Total wasted time: 5 hours.

I die now.

Tee-ah Tim-eh

CAFFEINE, THOU ART A THING OF BEAUTY.

Especially when you are in my very own top-secret completely awesome Vanilla Chai Tea. Made the recipe m'self.

But yes, the recipe is top-secret. Only I make it right.

What's that? No, I couldn't possibly give it to you. Well, if you insist...

1/8 tsp Ginger
1/8 tsp Allspice
1/8 tsp Nutmeg
1/8 tsp cardamom
1/16 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp cinnamon
2 tea bags (or 1 tbsp loose tea)
1/2 cup hot water
3 cups whole milk
1/4 teaspoon vanilla
Honey or sugar to taste
Whipped Cream
Cinnamon

1. Mix spices together with loose tea (If using tea bags, rip 'em open and pour them into the spices).
2. Boil water. Mix spices into water, letting set at least 3 minutes.
3. Heat milk while the tea is steeping.
4. Using a very fine mesh strainer, pour the tea into the hot milk
5. Add honey or sugar (I usually use 1 tbsp per cup - yes, it's VERY sweet) and vanilla.
6. Pour into cups. Add whipped cream, sprinkle cinnamon over
7. Serve immediately, preferably next to a warm fireplace, curled up with a favorite book and listening to relaxing music.
   

(The real reason I'm posting this? Because I often lose my recipes, and if I put it in my blog it will be here FOREVAR)

Also, I like to mix up the Chai mix ahead of time.

2 tsp Ginger
2 tsp Allspice
2 tsp Nutmeg
2 tsp Cardamom
1 tsp Cloves
8 tsp Cinnamon
16 teabags

1. Mix it all together, making sure there are no clumps (Ginger is especially stubborn with this)
2. Using 1/2 tbsp mix for every 2 cups of liquid (I usually use 1/3 cup water and the rest milk), follow steps 2-7 above. Voila!
   

It is now 6:27 PM. CLEARLY, I have missed tea time, putting this together for the peasants to peruse. 'Scuse me.

Trick Question:

Worst interview question ever:

"Why should we hire you?"

What do they expect? You HAVE to give a cookie cutter answer. "I think that my skills would be a valuable asset to $company, and in return, I think I will be able to learn a great deal working for $company."

Why can't we answer truthfully? Because it won't help. And the interviewer knows this. I don't know why they ask the question. Maybe so they can see how often this person has interviewed. Or if they are able to think of a witty but effective reply. Or how skilled they are at the art of buzzwords. "I could help your company dynamically grow through synergetic solutions, leveraging your assets. I have been a key information touchpoint and... I'm sorry, are you awake?"

So I was thinking of some answers that quite possibly run through a interviewee's head before he/she actually answers:

"I need money."
"My resume is short and I need more experience to get my dream job."
"I hate my old job. I need a change."
"Because no one else will."
"Uhm. Duh. I'm, like, totally the best."
"42."
"Umm... Hmm... That's a good question. I dunno. Maybe you shouldn't."

Ooo, you mean I can add a title?

It is time for....

Random Musings Because It Is Very Late And I Cannot Sleep. Part I.

Verily I say unto thee, chocolate granola is one of the best inventions known to mankind. Mostly because I can pretend it's healthy-ish.

I have also concocted, with the help of Trist, the best EVAR title for a short story:

Aubergine Dreams
Or, Killing Two Birds With One Bazooka
In Which Our Hero Finds His Long-Lost Love

Titles are fun when they're nearly as long as the story.

Typewriters are fun. They make so much noise. And you have to write carefully so you don't make any mistakes. I learned that when I wasted seven sheets of paper trying to type up a final copy of Aubergine Dreams.

*stares at blog* I really need to design something better for this. And actually write in it on occasion. The problem is, I write about everything in IM and/or journal, and am too lazy to say anything again. Clearly the solution is to stop talking to people.

I love talking to geeks:

darth_indy: Note to self: Boot Jarvis into Windows and update
metaball: your computer is named jarvis?
darth_indy: Yup
metaball: i think i'm in love

*looks at HTML code from the copy/paste* YE MINIONS OF XENDOR! That's a mess! *fixes somewhat*

One of the best soundtracks ever: Requiem for a Dream. Listen and be amazed. Particularly Summer Overture and Lux Aeterna. It combines soothing, energetic, hopeful, and depressing all in one song. Hmm. Maybe I've discovered the source of my mood swings...

Meringues are delicious. But evil. Humidity KILLS them. My meringues started out as beautiful rosettes. Three minutes later I finish piping them and they turn into white spherical thingies. Delicious white spherical thingies. BUT NOT PRETTY. Dipping them in dark chocolate helped immensely. Of course, I already knew dark chocolate fixes everything.

Hee. My typewriter dings.

I need to be awake by 9 tomorrow. Why has sleep left me?

I need to write in my journal. The last entry makes it look like I was about to jump off a cliff. It doesn't help that it is, so far, the last entry.

*flips through journal* Is it allowed to laugh at you stupid teen angst if it was less than a year ago? Because I was then a teen, and now I am not, therefore I am past teen angst. Now I just have angst without an excuse.

I could make a good emo kid if I wasn't too lazy to put on all that makeup, and purposefully mismatch my clothes.

I could also make a living as a police decoy for those online stalker creeps. If I wore the right clothes, I could pass for 14. I know this because my sister's friends asked if I was her younger sister once. I no longer go to her soccer events.

Finally, I'm drowsy. And now to publish this and regret it in the morning.

Eeeyup. No more blogging in the wee hours.

Tech Support Rant

(To people that are actually friends of mine: I don't mind helping you with your computers. This is for the idiots in class that don't read my blog but I needed to vent about. But paying me in chocolate and/or pizza every so often doesn't hurt either...)

ATTENTION ALL IDIOTS AT SCHOOL THAT ACCOST ME FOR TECHNICAL SUPPORT:

To quote Doug Richardson (who isn't particularly famous, but credit where credit's due)

If I was a plumber, would my colleagues and neighbours expect me to fit a new bathroom for them free of charge? Should I have chosen the carpenters path then would it be reasonable to expect a free conservatory? No. So why is acceptable to expect on call IT support, application development and fixing computers riddled with viruses without so much as a damn beer?

Now, first of all, I don't like beer. So don't try and get away with payment in Bud Light. We can negotiate for chocolate, however.

Second of all: I like doing tech support. I don't mind doing it. In fact, I usually don't mind doing it for free. But if you're going to argue with me, you are never going to get free tech support again.

If I tell you to do something, do it. I don't care if you love your precious AIM, if it's what's causing the problem, you can either fix it or leave me the hell alone. I don't care if you already rebooted your machine. Do it again. If it takes too long to reboot and therefore can't waste that much time, you have more problems than I'm prepared to deal with without cash involved. Besides, if you can't waste that much time, why do you expect me to?

If I am working in class, it is not a good time to come up to me and ask me about an obscure error message on your Windows 95 PC that fell off the back of a truck. I know just as much about it as you do, the difference is I know how to use Google. Quick questions that I can actually answer off the top of my head without having to work are free. Everything else, you pay.

See, when people work tech support, they're not allowed to be picky like this. And if you're paying me, I will fix your computer. But free tech support only lasts as long as you're nice about it, and only if it's a simple problem.

Be a good little customer, taking care of your computer the way I tell you (Updates and Antivirus, my friend). You may then come to me when you get a mystery error, and I will gladly Google it or you. You must then follow my directions, leaving out any whiny "I already DID that!" or "No, that's not the problem." If you already did that, then you might have done it wrong, and besides, you don't know what I'm doing yet. And if you know that's not the problem, then you clearly know the answer, and don't need my help. Buh-bye.

If you're a good customer, but the problem is worse than I'm willing to deal with for free, you get a hell of a discount. If you're a really good friend and you have an insanely difficult problem, minimum wage plus an unlimited supply of caffeine can even suffice. A close acquaintance that has a virus, $15 an hour is an excellent deal.

If you piss me off, your choices are: Pay me $25-50 an hour to fix your computer, or pay Best Buy more than $100 an hour to pretend to fix you computer.

I repeat: I do free tech support because I like working with computers. I do not do tech support because I like dealing with people. If you don't like it, the Geek Squad is more than happy to rip you off.

Excuse me, I think my empathy ran away. I need to go catch it.

The Shuffle Game (Spam, spam, glorious spam!)

Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 30 songs that play (no matter how embarrassing)
Step 3: Strike through the song when someone guesses the artist and song title correctly
Step 4: Looking them up on Google or another search engine is CHEATING!
Step 5: If nobody gets the song right, then you may post further hints.
Step 6. Make your own list

1. If all our life is but a dream/Fantastic posing greed/Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea/For diamonds do appear to be/Just like broken glass to me
Northern Downpour, Panic! At the Disco

2. Mr. Sandman showing his beam/When he walks into the room the walls lean in to listen/Surfed out brain waves flick back and forth/Like old headlights sniffing model glue again

3. I close both locks below the window,/I close both blinds and turn away,/Sometimes solutions aren't so simple,/Sometimes goodbye's the only way.
Shadow of the Day, Linkin Park (Boyce Avenue cover)

4. Oh, little did she know/Couldn't let me go/Already a part of her/So often do I meet/People in between/That just can't get ahold of it
Pas De Cheval, Panic! At the Disco

5. When I was a young boy/My father took me into the city to see a marching band.
Welcome to the Black Parade, My Chemical Romance

6. How long have I been in this storm?/So overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form/Water's getting harder to tread/With these waves crashing over my head

7. How cruel is the golden rule,/When the lives we lived/Are only golden plated?

8. Eleanor Rigby,/Picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been (Easy one :P )
Eleanor Rigby, The Beatles (The Fray cover)

9. And it's been awhile, since I could hold my head up high/And it's been awhile, since I first saw you

10. Come save me from walking off a windowsill/Or I’ll sleep in the rain/Don’t you remember when I was a bird/And you were a map?
Mad as Rabbits, Panic! At the Disco

11. That summer we took threes across the board /But by fall we were a cover story /Now in stores

12. I won't suffer, be broken,/get tired or wasted,/surrender to nothing,/or give up what I started and stop this/from end to beginning.

13. A daydream spills from my corked head and/Breaks free of my wooden neck/Left a nod over sleeping waves
Behind the Sea, Panic! At The Disco

14. You're a canary, I'm coal mine/'Cause sorrow is just all the rage/Take one for the team/You all know what I mean

15. I used to rule the world/Seas would rise when I gave the word/Now in the morning I sleep alone/Sweep the streets I used to own
Viva la Vida, Coldplay

16. Clouds are marching along, singing a song, just like they do/If the clouds were singing a song,/I'd sing along/Wouldn't you too?
Do You Know What I'm Seeing?, Panic! At the Disco

17. Every morning I put it on,/I walk outside and I am gone/And I don't seem to mind anymore,/I can't think what it was like before/I wore it all the time.
Persona, Blue Man Group

18. Well I was there on the day/They sold the cause for the queen/And when the lights all went out/We watched our lives on the screen
Disenchanted, My Chemical Romance

19. Softly we tremble tonight, /Picture perfect fading smiles are all that's left in sight,

20. You could have knocked me out with a feather/I know you've heard this all before but we're just hell's neighbors

21. Lights go out and I can't be saved/Tides that I tried to swim against/You've put me down upon my knees/Oh I beg, I beg and plead, singing

22. Baby, seasons change but people don't/And I'll always be waiting in the back of the room

23. I'm coming apart at the seams/Pitching myself for leads in other people's dreams now/Buzz buzz buzz

24. Back to the street where we began/Feeling as good as lovers can, you know/Yeah we're feeling so good
Nine in the Afternoon, Panic! At the Disco

25. Oh, how it's been so long/We're so sorry we've been gone/We were busy writing songs for you
We're So Starving, Panic! At The Disco

26. The day's last one-way ticket train pulls in/We smile for the casual closure capturing.

27. When I see your smile/Tears roll down my face/I can't replace/And now that I'm strong, I have figured out

28. Ab heute sind die Tage nur noch halb so lang/Zum Lachen gibt es gar nichts mehr/Gestern war vor einhunderttausend Jahren (Good luck with that one!)

29. It's all a game of this or that/Now versus then/Better off against worse for wear

30. He's a stranger to some and a vision to none/He can never get enough, get enough of the one

The Cookies on the Dark Side are Really Good

Well, the gas tank thing isn't as bad as it could have been - we can patch the tank instead of buy a new one, which brings my dreaded anticipated cost down from $400 to $60. The patch itself won't be over $10, but I had to pay for the gas for Dad to take it to our mechanic (the one he trusts is 45 minutes away) and to go to class. So that's one depressing thing off my plate.

And another thing lit up my day: ICE CREAM WAS ON SALE!!!!! Instead of $4 for the fancy ice cream pints, it was $1. I decided I deserved a little comfort food, so I got some. So there :-P

In other news that no one cares about, I'm brushing up on my Linux command line skills, so I can impress people with things like:

chmod a+x-r *.sh

or

sudo mkfs.ext2 /dev/sdb2

or other things that look like they mean "TYPE ME IF YOU WANT YOUR COMPUTER TO EXPLODE!"

Yesterday was Sabotage Day in Software class. This means that each group had to switch computers with another group, and break Windows. Then, each group would go back to the computer and fix them. We'd all done backups and such in previous classes, so recovery wouldn't be an issue if we really messed them up. But we tried.

**WARNING - GEEK HUMOUR AHEAD PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK**

I am a part of the only group with three people; all others have two. And, to bring imbalance to it all, my group contains three people that know computers really well. One is a mostly-Mac person, one is a mostly-Windows person, and I am a mostly-Linux person. Together, we're rather formidable. We exchanged computers wit a group with one guy that really knows what he's doing, and another guy that has no clue what's going on. We decided to have no mercy. Even though you probably won't appreciate how evil I was (the fun kind of evil), I will describe how we tormented the computer, with hopefully non-geek translations in parentheses, 'cause I'm nice that way.

I happened to have a Linux Live CD handy, so I booted from that (Instead of starting Windows, I can start Linux on a CD without installing it). The first thing we did is shrink the partition to the minimum size (Made the hard drive think it was full). This was a red herring - it wouldn't actually cause problems, but he might think it's the cause. The next thing we did was delete the bootable flag on the partition (This would make the computer think that there's no hard drive, and would not start Windows). Last but not least, we deleted the entire registry (In other words, broke Windows so badly that if he couldn't find his backup, he'd have to install it all over).

When we got back to our computer, we found out that he'd replaced the boot.ini (Made it so the hard drive couldn't find Windows), which was easy enough to fix by copying an old boot.ini over it, once we figured out what he'd actually done (which took a while, I must admit). Next, he'd randomly deleted some of the registry, but we just replaced that with our backup. Lastly, he had deleted all but one user, but that was easier to fix, since we just made them again.

Meanwhile, he was still trying to figure out why he was getting the message "No bootable drive found." As I said, he knows what he's doing, and he also had a Linux Live CD, but still missed the bootable flag. He kept trying to restore backups, recover the system, all to no avail. We were all having fun watching, and he was having fun trying to fix it, and the teacher and lab assistant both laughed evilly when I told them what we did (Did I mention I love this class?)

Finally, when there was ten minutes left in the class, I showed him what we did (to the bootable flag anyways) and let him fix it. He then had to deal with the registry of course, but that was comparitively easy.

So... it was a lot more fun to be there, especially if you like geeky things like that. But the summary is I had FUN in class yesterday.

Dammit, Murphy, you weren't supposed to listen!

As of waking up this morning, life is hell.

Somehow in the course of driving home last night, my gas tank decided it wanted some air. I had heard a big *thunk* and pulled over to see what it could have been. I never saw anything in the road ahead of me, nor in the rear-view mirror. I thought I had hit a pothole (without feeling a jolt though) and the hubcap had fallen off or something. I checked, and nothing seemed to be missing or broken. Until my dad woke me up saying the car had a leak, and the once nearly-full tank was down to a quarter, and $50 was sitting in a puddle on our driveway.

It's a good thing I didn't actually have to go anywhere today, but that doesn't make the cost of this repair any easier. I'd just sold a computer to get closer to the goal of buying my own car (Did I mention this is my dad's car, so he's more pissed than I am?), and this'll probably take all that and then some. Not to mention the fact that he was going to take it to get new tires today, but instead is taking up the whole day going to the other house to get the flatbed trailer.

Add to that the general depression of constantly listening to the news, and the fact that I forgot to copy my homework from school to my computer, so I have to start all over... yeah.

Y'know, I wanted to spend the night at my aunt's last night. If I had, this wouldn't have happened. I hate it when you can pinpoint a certain action and still cannot do a thing about it.

I'm still 100% jobless, and I have no good leads at the moment. I'm living off of the Pell grant, which can last me another couple months, if I buy nothing but gas and a meal a week (I have class from 1PM to 9PM at Delta, so I need to buy dinner there, or go without food. Sometimes it's the latter). Maybe less, depending on how much it is to fix the car. Once that's gone... I have nothing. Absolutely nothing. I guess that lasts me to the end of the semester, but after that, I'm jobless, broke, and unable to fix either of those.

I have no idea what I can do.

IZ MAH BURFDAY!!!!1!

I promise that's the only LOLspeak I'll use. Ever. Until next time, when I forget this promise.

I am now 20 years old. In fact, as of writing this sentence, I have been 20 for 9 minutes. The best part? I can go on forums I used to love that are now overrun with illiterate teenagers, and mumble "Those damn teenagers..." without implicitly condemning myself.

I shall enjoy this.

Playlists

So.

I decided to start making playlists based on my friends. About half an hour ago. Friday nights are dangerous times for me to be both bored and thoughtful.

The songs vary drastically, as do my friends. The songs are taken either from reminding me of specific moments with the friend, or the lyrics make me instantly think of them.

So far I have five playlists created, though some of them currently have only one song in them. Not that that's the only song that reminds me of them, it's just all I could think of at the top of my head.

I currently have the following playlists:

• Don't Die In The Pudding!
• Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?
• Giselle!
• Redemption
  
• Rotten Apples

If you know me, it should be fairly easy to figure out who equals what playlist. And maybe I'll share each person's playlist with them when I finish it. If only so they can say, "THAT'S what you think of me?!"

There are some friends that need two or three playlists, I think. Or one really, really long and varied one. Because people change. Or you get to know them better. Or both. And yet some people can be explained with a single song, or very close. And still more... you just can't find a song to fit. Yet. Give me time. I'll make one up if I have to.

Why am I blogging about this? Because I wonder who will comment back and ask "So, what song reminds you of me, huh?"

Paging Mr. Murphy

YES! It's a non-dark color scheme! Mostly because Blogger kept saying "UPGRADE YOUR TEMPLATE IT'S SO TOTALLY AWESOME IF YOU DO!" so I upgraded and I'm tooo lazy to tweak it at the moment. It needed to be refreshed anyways. I'm just doing it bits and pieces at a time.

I know that after writing the following sentence, Murphy's Law will sneak up behind me, trip me into mud puddle, trample over me, laugh, and gather a crowd to see just as I realize it is one of those nightmares where you realize you're walking around naked (which I've never actually had come to think of it), but I'll say it anyways.

It can't get much better than this.

Well, I know it can get better, but not by much. I'm feeling almost completely better (Though the Day-Quil and Sudafed might have something to do with that), and my brain is no longer hurting from caffeine withdrawl. Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that when I got sick that Pepsi just killed my throat, and so I had to choose between prolonging the cold as well as having a raw throat, or three days of pounding headaches and a messed up sleep schedule. Considering that my sleep schedule was messed up anyways, and adding a headache was just another symptom, I let go of my caffeine, and where was I again? Oh, yes. After I felt better I had more Pepsi though, just not as much as before. Though you might have guessed that based on the previous sentence.

It's been a good day. Sickness almost gone, just enough left that you remember the illness and appreciate being healthy. And then you go and ruin your health all over again by buying the pizza you've been craving for all week. Well, that's what I did, anyways. IT TASTED SO GOOD!!!! Not only that, but my ears no longer are hurting from being stuffed up, so listening to music wasn't agony. And I felt nostalgic for my childhood, so I'm currently listening to the Prarie Home Companion Annual Joke Show. Enough corny jokes to last all year (Example: What do you call a doctor that graduated at the bottom of his class? A doctor), and it lets me pretend I don't have a care in the world. Doesn't happen that often any more.

Besides that, I've also been reading a bunch of Terry Pratchett. Been a fairly productive day in the "I'm putting off homework and other responsibilities" sense of productive.

Hey. A blog entry without a rant. I'm slacking.

Historians are Dumber Versions of Philosophers

Please forgive this rather drugged-up essay of random proportions. I assure you, it all made complete sense when I wrote it, which should actually be really terrifying, but we'll see when I'm better. I am sitting in bed at 10:24 PM, having just had my latest dose of Ny-Quil and Sudafed, as I am sick. I don't think it's the flu, as the last time I had that I was unconscious for at least 24 hours. No, this is simply a very persistant cold that deftly crept up on me on Friday, and then fully ambushed my senses on Saturday. It is now Monday night, and I am still going downhill, though at a snails pace. I west to class today, zoned out on medication, having mom drive me there and pick me up (I've found that even Benadryl has a nasty effect on my driving abilities, and the bumper of the car of a nasty lady at my former place of emplyment can attest to that). Luckily, no class tomorrow, and I am once again finding a benefit to unemployment.

I have also found that a cure for sinus congestion-induced insomnia is listening to an audiobook of George Orwell's 1984; which, along with listeneng to talk radio against my will all day, is the basis for the following rant. I have the foresight to use spell-check though, so it won't be too bad. Gramatically, I mean. Subject-wise... did I meniton I had Ny-Quil? Ye minions of Xendor, I wonder what miniscule subjects would intrigue me if I did real drugs.

And now for something completely different...

History. It's a funny thing. A class you had for years in school, probably one you dreaded and procrastinated the most with homework. The war of 1812. The Great Depression. World War II. George Washington. Abraham Lincoln. Franklin D. Roosevelt. Stalin. Hitler. Mao.

All these little blurbs floating about in your head from history class, that your brain stubbornly refuses to forget. In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. The Holocaust was bad. The New Deal was good.

Ever stop to think about what history really is?

Probably not. You're a normal person. Bu I'm not, so I'll continue rambling.

History is keeping facts we want, and discarding those we don't. Often, we make up facts to replace those cast aside. In large or small ways, history is as much a work of fiction as any random book on your shelf. Especially if it's a history book.

What strikes me as funny is how historians love to use personal journals as historical references. For one thing, whoever wrote that journal was only writing it for themselves... or if they were writing for others, they skewed the facts even more. I for one know that my journal isn't the most factually accurate nor balanced piece of writing out there. Even if I write about an event moments after it happens, I can't remember everything, and I usually don't write until a day or two after. And, well, I tend to exaggerate. A lot. I like literary drama. The thing is, when I go back and read my journal, exaggeration or no, I can still remember whatever event as if it had just happened. I don't write everything down, just small bits of it, and they trigger the entire memory. Yet if someone else were to read my journal, it would just seem haphazard musings, and could probably be described as angsty (then again, what isn't these days?). But if I were to scribble out something about a historically significant event, or were to become famous, a historian of 25, 50, or 100 years from now would find my journal, call his fellow historians over to marvel at this spectacular discovery, slowly open the yellowed, aging pages, and stare in confusion at what appears to be mad ink scratchings made by a rabid cat.

When they finally figure out that they were holding it upside down, and can find someone that can decipher my atrocious* handwriting, they might find something they deem historically significant.

Suppose, in 50 years, a historian finds my diary and is researching 9/11. It's about as relevant to them as Pearl Harbor is for us today, namely the fact that it is only mentioned by old people, and history textbooks. The journal they find will not be my current wonderful Moleskie notebook, but a dollar-store version, with the generic diary lock that can be picked by any 9-year-old and a paperclip (speaking from experience) and a fluffy kitten on the front. But it's a primary source! ritten at the time! It must be relevant! So the historian opens it up and reads**:

9-11-01

Dear Diary,
The World Trade Center fell today. 2 planes were hi-jacked and 1 crashed into each tower. The same thing happened to the Pentagon, except it is still standing. 10,000 dead est. from the World Trade Center.
I am terrified. Who knows whan will happen next?

AH! HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE RIGHT HERE!!!!! I must publish my findings in an important thing!

It seems utterly absurd, and yet that's exactly what they do.

As for the throwing out of facts, don't be surprised if 50 years from now, the same textbook mentioned before reads something like this:

Yes, that twelve-year-old girl was terrified for her life, thinking at any moment more white supremist terrorists could take over another airplane and crash it in her backyard. The entire country was held hostage by this fear of the group of terrorists, calling themselves The Capitalists. Meanwhile, our illustrious hero, Comrade Barack Obama, was working to defeat the leader of this terrorist organization, George Hussein W. Bush.

What, haven't you ever read 1984? Hell, haven't you ever read the New York Times? History is only taking the facts, squeezing out the parts the historians don't like, and adding a couple white lies to fill in the gaps. A generation later, no one knows the difference, and those that do and complain are hushed and sent off to assisted living facilities to eat Jell-O and soup and play Bingo.

My point is... heck, do I really need a point? It's time for another dose of Ny-Quil. The first one isn't working fast enough. But my point is that I'm sick of politics and the "history" and precedents we keep hearing about.

Meh. I really should learn to rant in private. 'Scuse me, the medicine cabinet and I have an appointment.

*As has been mentioned, some have complimented the asthetics of my handwriting. Unfortunately, these eople never actually read what I write, so they don't know how illegible it truly is. It's like those letters you see from the 1800's in the background af "historical" documentaries as someone reads them aloud. Oh, sure, someone was able to read them, but they're also paid to decipher hieroglyphics. It's the same thing. Pretty, but as useful as Swahili to a normal person. In any case, this is why I never bothered creating a code to write with.

** Yes, this is my actual diary entry. I found it. It was in my closet along with my other half-finished and barely started journals. Still just as easy to open the lock. And still as pathetically boring as the rest. My journals don't realy get interesting until last year, and even then it's more like "HAHAHA!!! Wow, that's pathetically funny!" kind of interesting.

Tools of the trade

Wow, it's been just a little over a day since I last posted. Haven't had a blog post this close to another in... a long time. So anyways, this started out as a comment on Lifehacker, and it became a lot longer than a comment should be. And being a boring person obsessed with pens and notebooks, I couldn't delete it, so here it is.

I love writing. Pen on paper. While I can get the same words down while typing, faster and actually legible to a normal human, it doesn't have the same life. Written words have personality. If your thoughts wander, they go with you without too much thought... if my mind wanders while at the computer, I have to stop typing. When writing, I'll think, and it will somehow end up on paper. Not always truly resembling words (I tend to make m's with three humps, and W's become triple-u's) but I can correct that easily enough. I make plenty of mistakes I have to cross out, but it adds to the character of the page, and my notebook looks well-loved and well-used by he time I'm done. Two rules for all writing: 1) printing = doom. I only write in cursive unless absolutely necessary. 2) I must have lined notebooks, but wide-ruled kills me. I have rather horrid writing skills (People claim my handwriting is beautiful, but illegible - like 18th century letters) so I need a lined notebook. This is in all cases. I cannot write smaller than the lines provided (psychological quirk), and writing large words makes my handwriting even worse, especially since I use very narrow pens.

For journals, diaries, and random musings, NOTHING works as beautifully as a Moleskine large lined notebook and a black Pilot G-2. I love the width (height?) of the Moleskine lines. It's the perfect stze for my handwriting. I don't know the technical size, but it is smaller than college-ruled. Perfect. The sheets are the perfect thickness, and a soft ivory off-white. I feel as though I were writing something profound on that paper, even though it's usually something to the effect of "It's snowing again." Then again, George Orwell, a man I consider to be one of the greatest writers of all time, had journal entries consisting of, and I quote, "12/1/39. Three eggs." And I'll bet he used a Moleskine. There's hope for me yet! In any case, it will be amusing ten years from now to find out what I considered important

For notes from school and stuff I'll actually have to remember later, I'll use a spiral-bound, college-ruled notebook + four .5mm Pilot G-2s, one each black, red, green, and blue. I color-code based on importance of point (if I'm in a hurry or I have to write quickly, I write in black and put a colored star next to important points). If I hate the class, I burn the notebook at the end of the semester. It's a highly symbolic and satisfying endeavor, and the most when it came to my history class. I have never lit a match with more glee than the day after my history final. Oh, I love history, just not the way some people teach it.

For writing (short stories and the like), a spiral-bound, college-ruled notebook and my beloved G-2s. A different system, though. Write in black, first round of edits in other colors. Red = DIE SENTENCE/WORD, DIE!!! HOW ON EARTH I LET THIS FILTH NEAR MY BEAUTIFUL STORY IS BEYOND COMPREHENSION! Green = Hmm, better fix this. The premise is good, but it needs a new word or phrase, or perhaps a little exposition. Blue = KEEP THIS AT ALL COSTS, EVEN IF IT MEANS SELLING THE GRAND PIANO, THAT I DO NOT ACTUALLY HAVE, IN ORDER TO AFFORD FOOD BECAUSE THIS MUST STAY FOR IT IS PERFECT. Once I have made note of the edits to be done, I then copy over to the computer. The reason it's a normal notebook is because I tend to write out of order, and I have to tear it out and put it in the right order when I'm done. Also, I change so much while writing, that it would be sacrilege to cross out so much on a Moleskine (They're expensive, too; can't forget that).

For Bible study, I use the multiple-pen, color-coded routine on a spiral-bound, college-ruled notebook. Multiple colors to make certain points stand out, and a notebook for the same reason as writing... my thoughts go everywhere and I try to organize later. If I'm doing a study on Romans and decide to do a Bible study on fasting the next day, I can do so, and then the day after that go back to Romans - later, I'll rip 'em all out and put them in a 3-ring binder, with Romans together and Fasting later. For sermon notes, I do that on the computer, since I can type faster than write, and I have the Bible on here too, which makes it much easier to search for a verse. I do tend to copy those notes down later, if only for redundancy and to refresh it in my mind, and to add any more thoughts I might have.

There you have it. Random, pointless, and useless ramblings. Blogging is fun that way. You can write stuff that no one usually would see, and probably still won't, but you can feel important because someone might, someday, read it. Congratulations, whoever you are! You just boosted my ego! Not that I know it. I think I need some sleep. I'm rambling again.

Storm

Well, this is kinda-sorta based on something that really happened. Except it didn't. The weather and place is real, from a few years ago, but I made everything else up. Basically it's what I wish I could be doing right now. But I'm not. So I had to make it up.

It's dark outside. Last time I glanced at the clock, it wasn't even 3:30, and it already looks as though dusk were falling. The clouds are thick, obscuring the sun, and mirroring my mood. It should start raining any minute now – I can see lightning flash over the water.

I open the glass door and step out onto the third-story balcony. A little over thirty feet below me, the water is churning angrily, beating on the sand. I rented this beach front house for the week, knowing the storm was in the forecast. The leftovers of a hurricane that gazed Florida has finally reached the shores of Delaware, and me. I find something strangely calming about the chaos. Perhaps it's because there is no pattern or consistency, so I feel no need to impose order.

It's not often I get a chance to do nothing. There's always something I need or want to do, and if not then I'd be thinking of something else I could do. It never stops or slows down. But here, I can stop doing. Stop thinking. Just stop. Pretend that there is no such thing as time passing by. No appointments, no deadlines, nothing except me and the ocean.

Leaning on the weathered wood railing, I distractedly sip the coffee I've been holding, trying to ward off the chill of the wind as it suddenly picks up. The air feels more like late Fall, not at all like I'm standing here in the middle of July. I look to either side of the house; all along the beach are summer homes, crowded together with hardly enough room to walk between. Each one that I can see seems deserted, closed up against the wind and rain. Silent. Ghostly. It's a stark contrast to the churning sea ahead of me. Wide open, with nothing but water for miles and miles, and yet full of energy and life. I hear the waves roar below me, and the sound of the raindrops as they begin to come down.

A few scattered drops at first, then suddenly it starts pouring down in sheets. I set the coffee cup down on the railing as I close my eyes and tilt my head back, feeling the water stream down over my eyelids, trail over my cheeks and down to my lips. I am soaked within seconds, but I ignore that. I stretch my arms out to either side, spreading my fingers. Enjoying the sensation of rain on my skin.

I'd probably look utterly crazy right about now, if someone would happen to glance out a window and look at me. Just standing in the rain, in a tank top and thin jeans.

I lean forward again and open my eyes. I can barely see the ocean through the rain. A lightning bolt suddenly tears across the sky, and a split second later the thunder comes. It's not a harsh crack, nor is it a soft rumble. I can feel it in my chest, a low, heavy rumble that seems to continue for longer than possible. As it fades away, it seems almost silent. The thunder was loud enough to drown out the waves and the rain, but I can slowly hear them again.

It's time to go back inside though – I'm not completely insane. I grab the coffee cup and turn to walk back toward the house. I open the door and quickly step inside. I grab the towel I had left just inside the door and wrap it around my shoulders. I stare out the window for a few more minutes, watching the rivulets of rain on the glass as a puddle forms at my feet. I feel better than I have in months.