In Attempts to Tell You Almost Everything on my Mind

"Nature is famously, fabulously, wantonly complex... it blindly cobbles together myriad random experiments over thousands of generations, resulting in wonderfully inelegant organisms..."

- Biometrics; Design by Nature, National Geographic

*Note on the absence of music tonight* So I have this thing where I get songs stuck in my head, and I've found that one way to get them out is to post them on this blarg of mine. I have a slight obsession with getting the version I like. This creates problems because while youtube is a great resource for halfway pirating music, it's far from perfect. I couldn't find the right version of 3 x 5 by John Mayer. This song is perhaps my favorite of Mayer. The version I have somewhere buried in my old music collection is a live track before he got god awful cocky with his performances. So no music tonight, go turn on some Sufjan Stevens or something.

So, I was reading National Geographic today, and I came upon this article about New Jersey Bird Blitz, and it had a picture of a heron they said was nocturnal, which immediately reminded me of those herons Luke, Michael, and I nearly ran into in Florida. Those things were massive. I'm pretty sure if we pissed them off enough, they could have speared us with their beaks. Or clawed our eyes out. Or both for that matter. Also in the same issue, there was an article on biomimetics. Engineers are coming up with this novel idea to look to nature for ideas for improving technology. Way to stay ahead of the curve, sort of.

Other than my national geographic binge, I read a News Week and a Rolling Stone. I'm not normally a magazine person, I prefer my books thanks, but today I just felt the need to deviate from the norm and kind of lose myself in something unrelated to my life, yet still feel apart of this world. I think that makes sense. Anyway, it worked, because I didn't do anything school related even though my take home exam is due on Wednesday. Oh well, there's always tomorrow. Though, after tomorrow, it's due, so I'm kind of running out of tomorrows.

I have this beautiful Moleskin journal that I bought in February, and I've been slowly filling it up with entries. The black ink intricately loops around on the smooth cream colored pages, spilling out everything I don't say aloud and belaboring every secret of mine five times over because there's no one to stop me. I find it highly medicinal to write in it. I have a few other journals that I've kept from years past and its always a lesson in humility to go back and read them. Especially my seventh grade journal. I like to think I've grown up a lot since seventh grade, but I've come to the sad conclusion that I've just become better at not publicly making a fool out of myself. I think that that's how most of us are, privately; our awkward seventh grade selves, hidden by a false sense of maturity. It would definitely explain some people I know. And also raise the question of when do we actually grow up? When does the pretending to be mature and the actual transformation into a mature adult happen? I remember reading a book that discussed the loss of a right of passage, The Last American Man, by Elizabeth Gilbert. (Great book, by the way, everyone should read it.) Gilbert was talking about how since we've streamlined our existence beyond what's needed and taken our connection of nature away in the process, we don't have a distinguished idea of what separates the men from the boys, and so youths turn to the most obvious ideals of our culture; materialism and wealth among many others. But doesn't that make you wonder what kind of people we strive to be if our rights of passages into adulthood are superficial acts based on material wealth?

I know there isn't just one right of passage into adulthood, but doesn't it make you wonder? When will we truly call ourselves adults? When we finally get to sit with the parents at Thanksgiving instead of at the kids table? Better yet, will we ever truly know that defining moment? Will our parents throw it at us when we're in over are heads "you're an adult now, good luck", and we must except it because they're our parents and would know of such things. But then we're left with that negative connotation stuck in our heads. More often than not I would think adulthood is sprung on us, leaving us stunned to have suddenly arrived at the last stage of our lives and slightly miffed as to how it happened in the first place.


For those of you who are still with me after this giant block of text, I spoke with the padre about that briefly alluded to camping trip in Swissconsin. Nicole doesn't think we'd survive. (There was also mention of restarting civilization and setting traps to promote gene flow, if that gives anyone an idea of what conversation we were having.) Theoretically, if we went, it would probably be over fall break (11-14 of October). As a reference point, it's about a 7 hour drive from Louisville to my dad's house, not including Chicago traffic. My dad said to plan in advance, and I realize this is four months in advance, so I don't expect real planning to start until after school starts and everyone gets an idea of the degree of hellishness this semester has in store for everyone.

If you Have Amnesia, or Were Otherwise Absent from my Weekend...

(That's for Kyle, my sneaky blog stalker- I mean friendly blog reading friend...)

I have the biggest bruises on my shins from capture the flag. I just noticed them after changing into shorts when I got back home. They easily surpass normal bruises and might as well be called battle wounds. The first layer of skin on the area of impact is peeling, and little bruises are bordering the other. I'm so proud of them all.

Speaking of northern Kentucky, I have pictures!! Not as many as usual, and I didn't manage to get everyone, but they were taken, and taken happily. I know many who read this were actually with me when I went up there, but for those who couldn't make it, or those who just have a weird fascination with my life, I'll recap.

Recap of the 24 hour visit up in northern Kentucky:

-Obviously we played capture the flag, where I acquired my kick ass bruises mentioned above. They are only overshadowed by this one bruise I got when I ran into a car door during a freak monsoon/torrential downpour. That one was massive. Oh, and that black eye Allie gave me...

-Before CTF, we had a semi cook out at Angela's. Annie brought half of her fridge over and we made truffles, and arrived an hour later than we were supposed too. But we brought lots of food, so that made up for it. The coleslaw leaked on my pants. Bummer. I got to meet Becky, who's very smart and funny. Unfortunately, she was too tired to come play capture the flag and watch a movie.

(The first picture of the visit, with Annie being sneaky sometime before, during, or after making the truffles and macaroni for the cook out.)

-So we got to the Lonneman estate, and bent on making smores, we dug a fire pit in the yard and roasted them to golden perfection... lies, all lies. Clemens doesn't have a fire pit, so I raided his food closet and made due with chocolate graham crackers, a dash or so of cinnamon, left over truffles, an oven, a doggedly begging dog, some carbonated pseudo fruit punch, questioning of my oven smore making ability and perhaps a touch of surprise chili powder? They turned out relatively well, in my opinion.

-Which brings me onto Piñata Survival Island, aka the most ridiculous piece of entertainment I have yet to encounter. It was one of those horrible movies that because they're so horrible you must share with everyone you know and laugh the entire time you're watching it because it's so ridiculous. An angry piñata, stereotypical Greeks (not the race of people), and well, that's pretty much it. Oh and really great dialog... yeah.

-Then we played capture the flag, hurray!! I accidentally slide tackled Karen/a bench in order to heroically save my whole team, who somehow managed to get caught, subsequently leaving me alone with the flag in the woods. That's how I managed to get those bruises. During our very long game, I seriously sat in the woods the entire time, until the last ten minutes, where I managed to get beat up by branches and benches. I thought it was fun.

-Then in the morning, there were delicious cinnamon buns that Annie's mom made, followed by group festivities in Altiora. (I hope I spelled that correctly.) Where everyone came and went and we rearranged the comfy chairs in order to better serve our large group.

("Hey guys, look studious." "How do we do that?" "I don't know, just make a funny face...")




(I was helping Annie practice reading out some verses from the Bible, with appropriate stresses on the bold words. GET. UP. QUICKLY!)

(Angela doesn't like getting her picture taken, or pillows thrown at her.)



(Karen pre-work. She drew us a Pengel.)

-Before I left to go home with Liz and Galina, we, which included Angela, Liz, Galina, Kyle, and me, had Dewey's Pizza, where Kyle was a doll and bought lunch for us. We also got to visit the Purple People Bridge, which in my head I kept calling it the Giant Purple People Eater bridge. Then we visited Annie at Bath and Body Works and harassed her until she made us leave... hahah, more lies. We did get to listen to Again and Again, while perusing the scents and chatting with Annie.

(Giant Purple People Eater Bridge)

(Trying to look contemplative as we look at the river...)

-I slept the whole way home and haven't really left my bed since I got back.

So the recap was a bit longer than necessary, but I like commentary. All in all, we came out relatively scotch free of serious accidents, a little tired, but otherwise happy for the most part.

Rainy Saturday Afternoon

"Staying home alone on a Friday, flat on the floor looking back on old love, or lack there of..." I swear, nothing beats jaded love song lyrics by John Mayer on a rainy Saturday afternoon.

I went to the farmer's market this morning. I'm trying to get into a healthy schedule of waking up at a decent hour, eating better, getting outdoors more, and what not. You know, do all those things I ever wanted to do but didn't because I was sleeping. So I was looking for food to buy and let me tell you what, the farmer's market is really expensive. However, since it only comes around once a week, the produce is better than any store bought crap, and I rarely get the opportunity to go, I treated myself to a fantastic omelet, the majority of a pint of blueberries, and then some grass fed ground beef for one of Emily's recipes. It started misting slightly as I ate my vegetable, cheese, and catfish omelet on the curb. I think there were beets in it as well. It was fantastic. What they do is get a bunch of the sellers to pitch in some of their produce or fish and they make and sell the omelets and split the cost between everybody that participated. I would have had some chai tea with it, but I was running low on money at that point. Orange juice would have been great too. Moral of this story; good food costs money, all the more reason to grow your own and not have to worry about that.

So it's up to Northern Kentucky in a few hours. I'm hoping to get a nap in on the way up in order to be up to some capture the flag where I'm sure I'll offer no particular help in the game, but try valiantly anyway. I think I'm very good at finding people, just not good at running and catching them. Hopefully I'll have real pictures to post when I get back. It's been a while since I've whipped out my camera.

I Less Than Three Biology

(Oh Fiona, you're awesome.)

SO! The other day Kaycee and I hung out. And when I say 'hung out' I mean I got up at 6:45 and met her at Heine Brothers and then we volunteered our expertise at ruthlessly attacking invasive plant species with clippers and hand saws (they trusted me with a hand saw, I felt so powerful!) from 8 til 12. And I must say, it was thoroughly enjoyable. We're hanging out again tomorrow, bright and early.

(Tree Hugger!)

My sister cooked a chicken in the crock pot all day today and charged me with extracting it tonight. I picked it up with two wooden spoons and it broke in half because it was so tender. I ate a couple of pieces, it was very scrumptious. Now I'm waiting until my fingers regain feeling before I siphon off the broth for future storage.

Speaking of food, I'm reading Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan and am swearing off commercial beef forever. From a purely sanitary point of view, it's utterly disgusting what that meet goes through to get to my fridge. So no beef, which is easier than no meat entirely. I figure this time, I should slowly work my up to the big 'no meat' of vegetarianism. But, I will say this right now, if I should happen upon meat at the farmer's market that meets Pollan's requirements for morally okay meat, I will not hesitate to buy, eat, and enjoy it. Just thought I'd say that now, before outcries concerning horrible reputation for the pretentious V resurface. I'm trying guys, really.

Speaking of 'you guys', I'm going to Northern Kentucky this weekend! (I write this with a big grin on my face accompanied with excited and totally incoherent chirps, I guess you would call them. You know what I'm talking about.) Where there will be smores made in an oven because Clemens can't provide a fire, and capture the flag in the woods, and sleepovers at Annie's, and Altiora's comfy couches and caffeinated beverages, and happy happy happy times. Three happys, that means something. After this weekend, my travels will kick into gear finally. I'll be off to Swissconsin to spend some time up at a beautiful lake with a gaggle of small children and a really nice and generous extended step family. And then after that I go to the Galapagos with my kick ass grandma, and then five days later its school again and I'll have my Urban Waters Seminar to look forward to. (Speaking of which, when we go down to the Everglades, we might get to camp on things called Chickees, which are basically wooden docks/islands in the Everglades you sleep on because there's no other dry land around. It's like a dream I didn't realize I had until I saw these things. Yes, it's that epic.) Summer's going to be gone before it starts, the curse of all vacations I suppose.

Oh and question, wouldn't less than 3 look like this >3? Shouldn't it be greater than three <3> = alligator mouths) Does this make sense to anyone else?

When it comes to making food, I find the term 'success' to be very relative...

(I wish I could dance.)

Out of hungry desperation today, I tried to make my own homemade version of pita and hummus. My time in the kitchen proved to be very humbling and educational. I started up with botching the hummus (magic bullets are not the way to go when smashing chick peas) and was persevering in my search for a pita recipe that did not call for yeast. Finally I found one. However, it turns out yeastless pitas taste a whole hell of a lot like tortillas. So now I'm stuck with 10 slightly doughy tortillas masquerading as pita in my fridge and a serving of really lumpy hummus to boot. So while my stomach may be full of food, I must contend with the fact that my improvisational exotic culinary expertise falls short of acceptable. Meh. However, I have gleaned some good lessons from this experience.

Lessons gleaned from portilla (tortilla meets pita) and lumpy hummus extravaganza:

1. When the majority of the websites tell you that you can't make pita without yeast, believe them.
2. Don't let yourself get distracted by Louisville Light Pollution maps while making time sensitive foods.
3. Use a rolling pin, not a mug.
4. When dealing with untried recipes its better to split it in half so you don't end up with a dozen mutant pitas demanding their immediate consumption.
5. A small Magic Bullet obviously won't do the job sufficiently if you insist of sticking an entire can of chick peas into it.
6. Knock off cherry ice tea tastes startling like cherry koolaid and thus does not go accordingly with lumpy hummus and portillas.
   

Yesterday, I should tell you, was a very good day in the kitchen. Em and I made this fantastic Refrigerator Vegetable Soup. I call it that because we basically emptied the entire fridge of our wilting vegetable stock, and then half a bag of frozen peas for good measure. And then Em whipped up some great Baking Soda Biscuits while I made our family's traditional Peachy Peach Jello. I have to say, it was the best soup I've had in a really really long time. It consisted of white rice, 1 1/2 onions chopped up , half a bag of baby carrots chopped, a sizable amount of celery and their leaves, for flavoring, frozen peas (added at the end or else they get mushy), and then a base of chicken broth, fresh thyme and rosemary, salt and pepper, onion salt, and of course, butter. With the BSBs, (which weren't the most flavorful biscuits which was okay because when you dunked them in the broth it was perhaps the best mixture of tastes possible) and the prospect of Peachy Peach Jello afterwards, I must say last night's dinner was superb. The only thing that could have made it better was a cup of cold milk to go along with it, but we're almost all out, sadly enough.

Oh, the cat is gone. I don't know if I mentioned this earlier, but my mom went to Pennsylvania for the week and left the infamous Kitty Boy with us at the apartment, where he terrorized my sister and I for the better part of our nights. I lost a bit of my middle finger because of the beast. No matter how entertaining he may be or cute he may look when he's sleeping, I'm glad I no longer have to look at his litter box, put up with him waking me up in the early hours of the morning, or fear for the safety of my hands when I reach to pet him during one of his 'games' (aka running up and down the stairs and underneath Em's bed with a crazy look in his eyes, or stalking me while I'm not paying attention, only to jump in my face and scare the crap out of me).

How Many Movies Can I Watch? A lot.

So, for today, I was torn between three songs that always remind me of the summer. The first is "A Sweet Summer's Night" by Jens Lekman, then there's "In the Summertime" by Mungo Jerry, and lastly "Black Water" by the Doobie Brothers. For purely visual effects, I'm going with my friend Mungo. I know you'll understand once you watch it.

(Told you so)

I had the crappiest sleep last night. I went to bed early (by midnight, which for me is very early) thinking I'd get a nice full ten hours of sleep because it's the weekend and we don't do anything on the weekend. I was sadly, sadly mistaken. I was woken up at least 5 different times during the course of the morning. I was so pissed off. Not only did this travesty start at 7, but my patchy sleep was harried by stupid half remembered fragmented dreams that made me anxious.

So when I finally did wake up for good, I decided I wanted to go rip off a commercial bookstore for some throw away book whose plot is predictable, whose lead heroine ends getting the guy she wants, where good wins against evil in the end, and yada yada yada. And I would settle in a big comfy arm chair, and read the entire book in one go, without having to pay for it. I suppose I could go to the library and do the same thing, but that's completely different. Libraries want you to do that. There isn't that satisfying feeling of cheating the system. And they don't always have the books that I want to read. Nor do they have comfy chairs, usually its just questionable chairs and questionable people sleeping in them. Alas, I am too lazy to take the bus all the way out by Oxmoor and I wouldn't have enough time to finish the whole thing anyway because it's nearly 3 in the afternoon and I'm not that good at engulfing entire books in one go.

(So it's not a hunky picture of Christian Bales. I have to say though, Ledger makes a kick ass creepy Joker... I like his socks)

I watched Batman Begins the other day. I love superheroes. Especially when they make them rich ninjas with a troubled past and enough guilt to become a vigilante and save Gotham from itself. Brilliant. Don't get me wrong, Spiderman's still my favorite, (Who doesn't love a genetically modified geek with superhuman powers?) but Batman just has more personality right now. I blame it on Christian Bales. Ugh, but Katie Holme's character still annoys the shit out of me. She can't make up her mind, so she gives lame, on the fence excuses as to why she can't be with Bruce. If she had her head about her, she would figure he has a short time to live, being a ninja vigilante living a dangerous life and what not, so she might as well be happy with him while she can. Idiot girl, can't see what's right in front of her. After watching that, I watched half of 3:10 to Yuma before I gave in and went to bed. I'm like to finish that today over a bowl of spaghetti, the only thing we have left to eat in this house. That and popcorn. And like five boxes of yellow cake mix from Allie's peach cake experiment.

Oh, and then last night, I figured I'd watch something to unwind from the week, and ended up being pleasantly surprised by my choice of The Forbidden Kingdom. It wasn't as terrible as I really and truly expected it to be. The fight scenes were really good, and the plot line was interesting enough. However, because I didn't go through the, uh, proper channels for watching it, I was without subtitles for the parts where they spoke Chinese. That was a slight wrinkle in my night. Then I started craving Chinese takeout, which was a bummer. I settled for my own poor student version of it in the end - fish and left over rice, yummy.

EDIT: 3:10 to Yuma makes me cry every friggin' time.

"I still don't know what love means"

There are some performers that sound amazing recorded and still manage to blow your mind away when you see them live. Ray LaMontagne is one of them. The title quote is from his song Jolene, another great one of his. He has a beard too, heh.

This is going to just be a smallish update because I've promised myself an early night and at least a full ten hours of sleep. I would like to let everyone know that I finished Bones and I am done. Not just with the most recent season (whose ending, I believe, was good. It made sense, no matter how twisty it was), but with tv for the rest of the month, if not the whole summer. I have overindulged and am admitting I have a problem with addictive television shows. Now I go into self imposed rehab and end up becoming highly engrossed in some other form of entertainment. Probably a book, mostly because it's portable and doesn't require downloading time.

(Seriously though, when are they going to hook up? They've kissed, gone on a date, bonded over a child, Bones even went to his funeral. It's long past time.)

Closing notes, I'm very excited for season 4 of Bones, but even more excited about next weekend and capture the flag and the possibility of smores. Not to mention hanging out with those I happily call my friends.

(Don't read too much into the fact that I chose to display a picture of a smore instead of my friends.)

A Few of my Favorite Things

(I love this song. I really do.)

My dad lives in Wisconsin with my stepmom Michele and my two half brothers Bobby and Andy. I see him perhaps once every couple of months; Christmas, one of my sister's birthday's, a week or two during the summer, and a couple other miscellaneous visits throughout the rest of the months. I never really gave this a thought until I was talking to Annie and mentioned him and we started discussing the whole situation. I don't think we went really in depth, but it was enough. It has been on my mind since and invariably I started to wonder what it means to have normal parents. And I came to this conclusion. I have no idea whatsoever what it means to have normal parents. And neither does anyone else for that matter. I only have what I grew up with, and that is a father who lived a human life, full of mistakes and moments of personal perfection, and loves me in his own way. I wish I didn't take him for granted so much.

Onto lighter topics, I love the smell of fresh basil. Emmy's growing some behind our apartment on the small stoop we claim ownership to. I was sitting on the steps tonight, watching the fireflies come out (I missed them last summer when I was in Spain) and the smell of basil slipped over. For one brief moment it was summer like it should be; steady without the stress of school, slow from the heat, with an underlying scent of something spicy, like the promise of possibility. Nothing beats the smell of fresh basil on a hot summer night. Maybe funnel cakes from the fair, but really, funnel cakes pretty much rock my socks. Oh, and shaken lemonade too, with the funnel cakes. But that's specific to night time fairs with ferris wheels and pretty lights, rodeos/county fairs with animals on display for 4H, and baseball games, which then include brats with mustard and grilled peppers and onions. And the lemonade can't be watery, it must have lots of sugar, and be slightly warm, I'm very particular. Okay, how about this, nothing on its own singularly beats the smell of basil on a hot summer night. And the smell of storms and rain does not count because the consumption of rain water is highly inadvisable and the smell of basil strictly adheres to my love of food. If you haven't figured this out by now, I love good food almost as much as I love reading good books. It comes in second. Third is good music, fourth is good movies/television. First is a tie between good books and good company.


So I visited the art library today and fell in love. There are these desks next to the windows that overlook the fountain and each of them are assigned to grad students. They even have name tags on them. Aside from the pretty view and the alluring name tags, they have a shelf of books above them. The grad student can check out books to put on the shelf, I suppose so they don't have to carry around the books and can work on their master's with one less worry. Anyway, they are perhaps the most - I don't know what word to use for them. I want to say quaint, but it's not quaint per say. It's beyond that, it's an inanimate piece of someone's life that tells a story of that person. There was one chock full of books about Buddhist art. They were just so pretty, in a weird OCD yet artsy way. Maybe it's just my bibliophile nature getting the better of me. Regardless, I adore them and felt the need to share the adoration.

I love Bones. Look below for case in point.

(Clark Kent, meet Wonder Woman)

Sonata for the Moonlight

(I can't help but pronounce his name Beeth - hoven, not Bay-toven)

It’s a marvelous night for a moon dance, or so says the great Van Morrison. The moon is near full and as I surfaced for air tonight for a spot of tea at Starbucks, I saw it and instinctively broke out in song, as I’m wont to do whenever I spot the moon. I’m next to positive Van was singing about a more promiscuous sort of dancing, but still, it’s a nice enough song. Have you ever listened to other songs about the moon or even songs that mention moons? I find most of them extraordinarily sad. Either that or they’re about sex, hah. Depression and loneliness or passion and whimsy, pick your poison oh modern day bards. I like the moon, and the stars. They’re so ethereal yet very familiar at the same time. Back on campus when I’d be coming back from the library at night, there was this certain tree that, before it got leaves again, you could look up through the branches to the stars, and it was like looking at the sky through lacework. It was beautiful in a sharp lonely way that stars and the night have. I think we spend too much time looking down at the concrete that we sometimes forget about everything above us- the trees, the clouds, the stars, the moon. I think we forget a lot of things in our attempts to live. (But again, I don’t feel like cynically ranting about the human race. I do that every weekday in my Social Problems class.) I wish I knew more constellations, as if I could make friends with them. Or at least learn their stories, though I suppose that’s what making friends means to me, learning people’s stories.

(I love Greek and Roman mythology and their obsession with the world.)

In other news, I have changed my career goals in life. I’m going to quite college, find a mystic mentor and make my way in life by reading palms and interpreting dreams in a traveling gypsy caravan. (The future me.)How does that sound? Good right? It’s either that, or I’ll travel to an alternate universe and live there. But if I adhere to Pullman’s theory on living in an alternate universe then I wouldn’t live so long. Then again, I could have a daemon, which would kick ass. Maybe I’d even save the universe by giving in to temptation and ruining my innocence. If that doesn’t work, maybe I could move across the Wall and discover that my father, the Abhorsen, was in mortal danger, as was the rest of the Old Kingdom, and I’d be called to save them and fall in love with a bastard prince who was locked away in the river of death to preserve and protect his royal bloodline. Then I could learn Charter Magic and live in the house in the river. Though if I were to choose between Nix’s books, I’d pick Lirael because she created Dog and worked in that kick ass library. What other fantasy would I slip into? I don’t think I want to live in Martin’s books. Everyone dies when you least expect it and rape and dismemberment are highly prevalent in every chapter. I don’t know about Rowling either. The Potterverse is too untouchable in my mind. Not to mention too much like the real world. Anyway, everyone is happily coupled off in the end, so there's nothing for me to do but get in the way. I kind of like the idea of creating my own world and wandering off there one night on my own. That would be nice.

(I really do wish I could read palms.)

Well girls and boys, that is it for my midnight post. I'm going to finish up season 2 of my beloved Bones and eat something scrumptious. I'm craving... something buttery and salty. Maybe popcorn? Or eggs and toast.... or lentil soup with sour cream... or maybe cottage cheese and tomatoes?

(tehehe)

I may need to get a new life

(Note the lack of shoes on David Boreanaz, hah)

At approximately 44 minutes per episode, and a at a total of 34 episodes, I have watched nearly 25 hours of television this weekend. That is to say, I have spent a full 24 hour day in front of my computer, watching and becoming intensely involved with a fictional made up story, strife with drama and mind teasers and FBI agents and forensic anthropologists and the underlying but distinctly tangible taste of sexual tension that after all these hours has yet to be fully realized. I have done nothing but watch this TV show all weekend.

Holy.

Shit.

I have no life.

Rewind a few days back when I wasn't sure what I was going to do this weekend. I came to the conclusion that instead of watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which has its many perks, what with vampires and martial arts, I would switched over to the more recent and grown up television series Bones, featuring the actor who played Angel in Buffy. This was my compromise. Or perhaps a big error in judgment? If you haven't watched Bones, it's pretty great. Great enough for me to watch a season and a half of it just this weekend. (as a side note, I think I may have accidentally ruined the big twist in season three for myself. shit.) Anyways, that is what I did this weekend.

Oooh! and I saw The Happening, by M. Night Shyamalan. The critics really do not like him. I could rant and rave and tell you its because they're all conformists and narrow minded idiots who'd rather not think when it came to their movies, but that's for another post when I'm more cogent and fiery with my speech. I'll say this, if you like his other films, you'll like this one. If you didn't like his other films, then you're not going to like it. (Though I must say, I wasn't a great fan of Zooey Deschanel in it. I kept expecting her to make me laugh instead of sympathize.)

"Buffy Addict, Science Nerd, Bookworm, I'd like you to meet another part of your personality - Old Cat Lady"

I just finished watching The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. It was sad. I'm not entirely sure how I felt about it after that. I've been meaning to watch it for a while but one thing or another got in the way and then I had to wait for it to come out on DVD. The same thing is happening to The Fall, with Lee Pace. But I have Netflix, so I should be set when the day comes. Mr. Pace is quickly becoming a favorite of mine. He's also in Pushing Daisies, which I fervently hope is coming back in the fall.


It rained today, a very beautiful warm summer rain. Walking through campus was a treat. The trees only let through a mist and everything was drenched a darker hue than normal. And it smelled like heaven to me, like rain and trees and clean air. I love the rain. I wish we had a porch so I could properly enjoy it. Then I would make myself some chai tea in a blue tea pot and sit on some big expansive wicker chairs that have comfy pillows and maybe read a book.



Nothing like a bit of Pride and Prejudice to go with a rainy day.

Speaking of books, I'm still in withdrawal from George Martin's incomplete and less-than-likely-to-be-completed-in-the-near-future series. I haven't read for fun since I the last book. In attempts to rekindle my appetite, I'm slowly easing back into the world of books with some Michael Pollan and lots of Buffy.

Which leads me to a Buffy Update. I know, everyone's super excited to hear about this newfound addiction of mine. So, in the middle of season two, Angel and Buffy finally have a moments peace to be happy, and BANG, Angel loses his soul. Again. And becomes the asshole vampire of the year, breaking Buffy's heart on her birthday, the bastard. Not so lucky Buffy. Then yada yada, she get's super depressed and we get to hate Angel for a while, which gives all the other nasty regulars a chance to show some humanity. Then dawns the last episode of the season. I'll make it brief. Buffy STABS Angel with a sword, who just got his soul returned to him, because it's the only way to make sure a vortex of doom doesn't suck all of life into hell. So Angel is last seen falling into said vortex, while Buffy's balling her eyes out, and then she runs away! She runs away. What the hell Buffy? First off, why'd you take so damn long to realize the creepy stone demon statue behind you needed to be stabbed in the heart again? But no, you were too busy kissing Angel, and didn't notice until too late what was happening and then you had to send him into a vortex of doom. It's just ludicrous. And secondly, you run away?! Yeah, so you killed your vampire boyfriend, but you know what, shit like that happens when you mess around with vampires. And you don't just run away because of it.

Now that I've made a scene that no one understood at all, I think I may take a brake from Buffy for a little while. Either that, or watch the last five seasons this weekend and get it done and over with... I can't honestly say which will happen. Probably a sad limping bastardization of the two.

Other than my Buffy craze, I've been bumming around for the better half of the week without my wallet. I haven't worked on my knittage in awhile, I kind of got burnt out last Thursday at the Knit Nook's weekly Stitch and Bitch. It's sitting on the coffee table by my feet right now, looking pathetic and trying to guilt me into putting in another movie so I'll pick up the needles and knit a row or two. Ooooh, maybe I'll have a Pride and Prejudice Miniseries Knitting Party for one this weekend! I'll stay in my pajamas and live vicariously through Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, while knitting on my couch... and drinking tea... with my cat... oh my god, I'm turning into an old cat lady. And soon, I'll be reading stuff like this...

Haha, look at this. I wonder why I never googled 'old cat lady' before.

Another Drolly Exciting Day

Amelie is the quintessential cute foreign film. The foreign film to introduce you to all other foreign films. It's weirdly cute and sweetly quirky, it's French, Audrey Tautou is in it, and it has this amazing soundtrack in it. It's a good movie. One of these days we'll have to watch it together if you've never seen it.


These are my mom's beautiful flowers that she's been dutifully taking care of. They line the porch and make the patio smell very nice.

We took Kitty Boy to the apartment tonight, after celebrating the Madre's belated birthday. The ride home was a traumatic experience for the both of us. Let's just say my skirt is now soaking in the sink with a copious amount of soap and warm water.



This is Kitty Boy squawking at a bird. He was making this creepy meow warbling noise that we were unable to capture on film. He's so weird.

So I had my Social Problems test today. I probably should have studied more for it, but hey, isn't that the story of my academic career so far? Yeah, I know, I don't have anyone but myself to blame. But I don't have homework for tomorrow, so I think I might actually go to bed on time tonight.

Now I'm off to finish hand washing my skirt and hoping it doesn't smell of cat and tuna.

Audrey Hepburn, a Burro, and a Missing Wallet

This has been stuck in my head for three days straight now. Unfortunately for all those around me, I can't hit the high notes properly. It's sad. Anyways, I thought I'd share this obsession with my reading audience.

Oh, I lost my wallet today somewhere in between getting on the bus this morning and getting back on it after class. Way to go, eh? I'm pretty sure no one actually filched it directly from my bag, but there's the overwhelming possibility that it fell out of my bag and someone did not feel it necessary to turn it in. If this is the case, I must congratulate them on finding two dollars, some odd change, and my ID - quite a bag of treasures!

On a lighter note, I found this picture of Audrey Hepburn whilst searching the web. I like her hair. And the fact that she's sitting with a donkey, or maybe a burro?

Now I should really attempt to study for my Social Problems test tomorrow, and not be distracted by a certain late nineties fantasy show involving charming vampires and witty banter. Oh how I adore witty banter.

What I do on the Weekend

This is my silly stupid cute cat, Kitty Boy, who knows absolutely no shame. We got him neutered a while ago, and he's getting fat. This is pre-neuter , since then he's become weirder and fatter. He's adorable though.
This is the blanket I'm working on. Please note and take awe of the gorgeous cables and lace panels. I'll let you know they're awesome. I love cables.

Oh! and this is my sock. On double pointed needles. Three of them. Yes, you should be in awe. I am.
This is my porch. Actually my mom's porch. It's really pretty and when you put the umbrella up, it's all shady and summer like. There's also comfy couches that you can't see. I'm sitting on them while taking the picture.


That's what I did this weekend; nothing. But it was good. I'm halfway through season 1 of Buffy. She just found out Angel's a vampire. But he has a soul, so it's okay to kiss him. Lucky Buffy.

Smells Like Content

I was talking to one of my good friends today and we started sharing music videos via youtube like we are wont to do from time to time and I remembered this little jewel. I love The Books in a weird mesmerizing way. Mogwai meets Postal Service, meets something all of their own, yes? I thought it would be a nice introduction into my blog. (Nod towards Allie, Luke, and the guy from Brooklyn Tweed for leading me down this path of blog obsession.)

So it's summer, whoo hoo. It's been summer for more than a month now and I'm getting the feel that I'm done with this silliness. Here's a secret for all of those who dream of summer; make sure you make plans or else you'll slowly lose your mind to things like watching the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, teaching yourself how to use double pointed needles so you can knit socks, obsessively reading knitting blogs, and avoiding getting a job at all costs by taking out loans and going to summer school. But I'm just being difficult. I really love summer and all of its mind traps. It would be better if I had more money and access to northern Kentucky, but you can't get everything you want. For now, I'll have to be content with what I have, which is more than enough to be content with.