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21 August 2008 @ 02:47 am
Thursday, August 21, 2008  
I can't sleep, so I might as well return to my computer for a few minutes before I go back to bed and try again. I have a trial scheduled at Family Court at 8 AM (summer hours) so it would be good if I can get a little sleep.

Today is [info]anthrprettyface's birthday. May it be a happy one. May no dark clouds mar the day.
 
 
21 August 2008 @ 12:05 am
Writer's Block: The Measure of Success  

In regards to your professional life, how do you measure success?

Sponsored by Microsoft Small Business


View other answers



First, I weigh it on a carefully-calibrated scale. I might use a scientific one, or stick to the good old kind of yesteryear with two dishes and a set of counterweights. After I determine the mass of my success, I fill a large beaker with water, measure the level, and then fully submerge my success in it and measure the level again.

Using the equation ρ = m / V, where ρ = density, m = mass, and V = volume, I can measure my supposed success against the scientifically-established value of true success to see whether it's truly something to be celebrated or I have a false sense of pride and accomplishment.

What's cause for a bit of sorrow is that far too many people approach the concept of success this way. The truth is that it's far simpler. What do you have? Toward the goal of bettering yourself, others, and the world, did you do with it what you could? If the answer to the second question is yes, then congratulations! You are a success, and I'll see what I can do to make you a batch of really tasty snickerdoodles. No need to thank me; you deserve them.

---

I admit to being curious as to in what capacity Microsoft Small Business sponsored this Writer's Block question. Did they give LiveJournal money for their question to appear? Did they simply do LiveJournal the 'favor' of providing a prompt in exchange for free advertising? Or is there a deeper, darker plot going on here, involving lies, forbidden love, and illicit substances? We may never know.
 
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 11:50 pm
 
Leo called.... from Wal-mart... he was buying fish for his tank! I am drawing him a lion for his birthday present.... his birthday is tomorrow.... i think he is getting tickets for the baseball game on Friday.... I am happy this man has come into my life! He is very sweet to me!
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 07:53 pm
No escape in this direction ....  
I had hoped to waste some time in Second Life this evening as a distraction to keep me away from my other "behavioral addictions."

Login failed.
Due to higher-than-usual load, logins to Second Life have been disabled until further notice. Please monitor the Grid Status page for updates.


Grrrrr.

Edited 9:50 PM to add: I can't concentrate on anything, so it looks like I'll be going to bed at 10 PM. It's just as well, since I have court at 8 AM anyway.
 
 
Current Mood: frustrated
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 07:11 pm
organizing the disorganized thoughts....  
I did not expect to still be at work after 7:00 PM.

This means I can no longer do all of the following:

- grocery shopping
- cook dinner
- gather tax and other forms for mortgage stuff
- organize paper files
- 2 loads of laundry
- find some form of entertainment for an hour
- get in a bit more work-work
- stretchy yoga things
- finish tossing old dry goods
- get to sleep early


what i might do instead is...

- eat pasta or a frozen cheeseless pizza
- look for one specific tax form for no more than 5 minutes
- skip laundry and wear what's clean to work tomorrow, which means Skirt
- do hip and shoulder stretches while watching House DVDs
- eat last of sorbet while doing same
- get to sleep by 11:00


this means my Saturday will be spent...

- organizing paper files and finding my lease
- doing work-work
- doing laundry
- grocery shopping

yup... that's about right

p.s. Anybody looking for a $1050 1BR rental in Waltham (~1mi from Main & Moody)? I'll need to end my lease early. You can even have my bright orange sponge-painted living room wall if you let me know before I paint over it. (I will miss you, orange fun wall.)

p.p.s. [info]invader_haywire, I wish you had comments on for that last entry, which appears in my friends page right below this one. The reason is I want to ask if the you in this case could be me, i.e. if somebody is going to win, can it be me? I would like to win. It would be nice. "You win" is so ambiguous though. Also, I'm sorry you're having a crappy day. If a bad day is defined by "absolute lack of win", I think you should be able to designate your own winner to pick up the win you karmically got shafted on. If I could give you "win" on my crappy days I totally would. Okay, that is all.
 
 
Current Mood: lonely
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 07:13 pm
Doggy tales  
Logan can't find his "stash" (the box of papers he was raiding to find new playthings, which I finally did manage to locate and put out of his reach), and he's unhappy about it. Poor baby.

Also, given that Logan and Madison can't read the labels on their food dishes, I wonder why each one so reliably eats out of the other one's dish, no matter how I arrange them!
 
 
Current Mood: amused
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 05:58 pm
Party!  
( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )
 
 
Current Mood: busy
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 10:36 pm
I have cabin fever!  
I want out of here! Only 10 days until I can escape from the dreaded maw that is my parents' house. Two months at home after two years living away from home has been terribibble. Not long to go though. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go. Not long to go.

Can't come quick enough. Art later.
Tags:
 
 
Current Mood: depressed
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 05:25 pm
Мои любимые моменты  
 
В продолжении темы о китайцах. Сегодня познакомилась с новыми студентами с моего факультета, они тоже с Китая. Один только приехал, двое других уже здесь некоторое время. Так интересно. Какие-то они наивные, чистые, без задней мысли. Приятно с ними общаться.
Ах я забыла совсем рассказать о своем перелете. Летела я с пересадкой во Франкфурте. Так вот на самолете из Москвы в славный немецкий город Франкфурт летел со мной молодежный хор. Причем сидели они в разных частях самолета, и еще до отлета очень активно все перекрикивались, оборачивались, периодически что-то друг другу кидали. Думаю, аккуратненькие и сдержанные немецкие стюардессы поняли – отдыхать во время рейса не придется. Так вот, пока прекрасные немки раздавали обед, а певцы, похоже, проголодались, они как завели одну хоровую за другой. Какая красота! Представляете – летите вы на высоте 5-6 тысяч километров, а вы в середине хора! Супер ощущение. Сердца холодных немок растопились в несколько секунд и они не могли удержать улыбок. Люблю такие моменты. Вот это жизнь.
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 05:24 pm
Почему я люблю эту страну  
 
Сегодня я несколько раз повторила себе, что нравиться мне эта страна, и все таки не зря я решила поучиться здесь еще немного. За несколько дней до отъезда из Казани я вспомнила, что мне нужны данные о моих прививках и на английском языке. Все это делать заново у меня просто не было времени. Тогда я написала в поликлинику моего предыдущего Университета в Канзасе и спросила, как я могу получить эти данные. Они мне сразу отвечают – давайте адрес, и мы вам пришлем по почте. Все это было ну не больше недели назад. Прихожу сегодня на факультет за книжками для преподавания. Смотрю в свой ящик – письмо. Открываю – ксерокопия моей анкеты о прививках с печатью. Ну как тут можно не восхищаться этим сервисом. И это ведь не частная клиника, а обычная студенческая поликлиника! 
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 05:21 pm
 
 Давно не писала! каюсь! 
я в Вашингтоне, обустраиваюсь в новом университете. 
Я притела в Вашингтон 14 августа. Мой универитет находится в пригороде. Ах да, я же не всем рассказала, что решила учиться в аспирантуре по специальности «Связи с общественностью». Вот ирония судьбы. Когда-то на 3м курсе КГУ я очень хотела изучать «связи с общественностью», но обучали этой специальности только в КАИ. Помню даже как мы с мамой ходили туда и узнавали, как можно перевестить. Приходилось бы терять 1 год учебы, и мне было ужасно жалко времени. Но судьба есть судьба. После моего КГУ, трехлетней работы в гостинице, обучения на магистерскую степень, я наконец-то постепенно подкралась к моему плану теперь уже 8-годичной давности. А тогда было жалко 1 года J.
Так вот прилетела я сюда 14 августа, в четверг. А сегодня, то бишь в понедельник, пошла в Университет на экзамен по английскому. Этот экзамен должны сдать те международные студенты, которые будут преподавать в Университете. Ну вот, об этом я тоже еще не рассказала. Для того, чтобы учиться и получать стипендию мне теперь нужно еще и работать (халява, к сожалению, рано или поздно кончается). Так что я буду преподавать «введение в коммуникации». Ну и для этого, чтобы удостовериться что я могу выражать свои мысли внятно и разборчиво, и адекватно реагирую на вопросы, мне нужно было сдать этот экзамен. Прихожу. Типичная картина – очередь, около 200 человек, примерно 95% - китайцы, 3% - индийцы, и единичные представители Германии, Испании, Турции, Мексики. Я вроде-бы одна была из России. Борьба за выживание все таки мощная сила. Я о китайцах.
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 04:44 pm
Reflections upon finally seeing "Dark Knight"  
I had already read several detailed descriptions of the "Dark Knight" movie before I actually got to see it, so I wasn't surprised by any of the plot twists; I was more interested in seeing how the filmmakers accomplished certain things. I certainly didn't see it as a statement in favor of covert surveillance of the entire population to combat terrorism, as some have claimed. I didn't see the Joker as a metaphor for any kind of political terrorist, or standing for anyone with a long-term agenda other than creating chaos for its own sake.

The point that I did see being made is that people act upon what they believe. If they believe that good is possible in the world, they act accordingly, which makes it true. If they believe that nothing matters, and that good is impossible, then they act according to that principle. In other words, the story matters, the "myths," the core values, the things that people believe - and what people believe creates a new truth, based upon the actions that they take in reliance upon that belief, even if the things that they believe are not factually correct.

A good myth matters, and people need to believe in heroes. A good story matters, even if the details aren't right. The inspiration has its own value.
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 10:16 pm
"Let me ask you something. Does that look right to you?"  
( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )
 
 
Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Blades of Glory
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 01:28 pm
 
today.... heard from Leo in email.... he feels comfortable around me... and enjoyed our time together and wants to do it again soon.

still cleaning and organizing here. endless, I swear!

going for transfer day on Friday.... I want to go back to old school. I heard that Douglas and Monroe are laid back. I need more easy going liberal work place.... not all the up tight stuff... I hope I get to go back to Freddie Thomas though.... my friends are there.
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 11:49 am
Fashion Rocks  
Conde Nast keeps sending me free copies of their new venture Fashion Rocks, which doesn't, actually. I'd never buy a magazine with a picture of Justin Timberlake in a tuxedo on the cover. They have a huge spread of divas photographed by the big fash photogs, which is pointless and boring because, basically, the clothes are stupid and the divas aren't fashion models. They're not good-looking enough, and they're kinetic: They look best bopping.

And there's the problem with the clothes....tuxedo with combat boots, mmmmm, MEGO. There's an amazing column by the hippest scenester fashion writer, Lynn Yeager, buried in there, among the 15 page advertising spread of Rihanna doing lip gloss, also boring because she is not a fashion model and doesn't look good/interesting from every crevice and angle which, baby grrl, are already way over-exposed (just been reading about how Mark Spitz blew it after becoming the first human to win seven gold medals: Rihanna, sweetheart, you are no Mark Spitz). Cutlines reading "On Will.i.am, Vivienne Westwood trousers, Diesel sunglasses, Dior sneakers" approach the edgier journalism purlieus of The Times of London court circular. Dior sneakers, are you shitting me? Mariah Carey, in an ugly Naeem Khan swag dress, and her ilk, shot by Stephen Meisel, and his ilk? A practically endless spread of Dhani Harrison sort of looking like George and sort of not? Yawn, seriously. This is not rock n roll. Showing the EZ listening establishment in boring couture clothing is not rock fashion, it's Fat Elvis. I was swept away by the corruption, even down to the accents and the gestures they affect, of the rock establishment watching Tommy Lee and what'shisname, Mr. Carmen Electra, with the eyebrows, on Rockstar: INXS. Blech.

Anyway, it's a strangely frustrating production, an effort finally to track the influence of rock and roll on fashion -- a parallel trend both to couture and street/club fashion which has gotten much too little coverage by fashion journalists.

One note. I want an Afrodour. To go with my gele, my hoodie, and my kimono.

Cultural appropriation forever.

That is all.



 
 
20 August 2008 @ 04:30 pm
спасаю ваше время  
кстати, мумия 3 - уникальное тупое кино. минут на 15 хватит тех, кто любит желчно перемолоть каждую капельку несостыковок сценариста. и все. смотреть дальше ну просто невозможно. даже на тупую комедию не тянет.

ps предыдущие мумии были такие же ужасные?...
 
 
Current Mood: на страже Мира и Прогресса
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 10:15 am
Y I Continually STOP Intaking Caffeine  
( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )
 
 
Current Mood: caffeinated
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 09:43 am
Peace versus giving up  
Sometimes it's tough to tell the difference between getting a sense of simple peace and simply giving up. Because I'm not willing to give up, not willing to say that it doesn't matter, I'm often afraid of the feeling of peace, as if that were the same thing as indifference.

When prayer and meditation lead me toward those feelings of serenity, acceptance, and blessing, that doesn't necessarily have to mean that I'm abandoning anyone, or that I'm giving up the fight for anything that matters to me.

I'm not at the "I don't give a ..... " place, and I don't want to be there, either. I am not willing to stop caring. But there has to be a reason why my attempts at prayer and meditation keep leading me back to the principle of letting go. I keep fighting against that, because it feels like abandonment.

It's easy to confuse peace with betrayal. I need to remember the fact that they aren't the same thing, and one does not necessarily require the other. I can reach peace about what is, what was, and what will be, without changing my mind or turning my back on any of the people and the principles I value, and without giving up on anyone, even myself.
 
 
Current Mood: peaceful
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 09:42 am
Nana Bear and Papa Bear  
( You are about to view content that may only be appropriate for adults. )
 
 
Current Location: work
Current Mood: cheerful
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 08:40 am
Dulce Domum  
I have started reading the house blogs again because....enough time had passed so they'd accumulated some posts. They don't post every day after the first year or so of reno, which is my favorite year because they do things like rip out roofs and 10 layers of crack-infused wallpaper and cat-piss infused carpet/linoleum and ancient walls, a surprising number of them with messages left by the builders. Like the pint vodka bottles of varying eras I found sealed up in the baseboard heater and ceiling of my old house. The installation of not-quite-perfect MacMansion developer kitchens (granite, which is full of radon, stainless steel, perfect cookie cutter taste), with that sassy Cher/Bob Mackie rockstar Goth touch, by people who really have performed heroic work, depresses me.

So the OCD couple have married; work on the house has suspiciously stopped as she now seems to call in sick a lot. The frisky young high-low newlyweds -- she's an up-and-coming arts executive, it sounds like, and he's a hot guy in a tool belt -- announced their retirement from the house reno blog world. Their house, an interesting genre of Victorian, in a tiny rust belt town, was too far away from her new job. She announced her promotion and their moving to an apartment an hour closer with guilt.

The skinflint bachelor is still working on his magnificent Victorian. He reminds me of Edmund Hilary. The punk househusband keeps interrupting the saga of the work on his immense Victorian with not very interesting bulletins about the spawn of whom he is inordinately proud. The farm girl has had another baby, started going to Weight Watchers as her husband's previously sunny temperament seems to be withering under the weight of some misfortunes, work has stopped on her house, a playhouse has been built for her first child, and the bare land around the magnificent Victorian stuck in a plain that extends treeless and practically fucking trackless from there to Denver and back to Cincinatti looks even more like the site for a scary heartland murder by two cute hoods Truman Capote would write about.

Have I mentioned again the killer? After truly heroic feats of reclamation, of excavation and mummified pest control, of fabrication and like, line your own chimney after learning how to become your own chimney sweep, feats of recycling -- ripping out the hex tile floor of a very rough and ready 19th century west coast bar, cleaning each one with a toothbrush and so on -- the search for perfect old doors, formulating their own plaster compound or shellac, and so on....comes the moment when they choose to paint.

One new guy, the one whose wife does nothing, literally, but bitch? Finally got to paint the bedroom they still sleep in together, against all evidence. They had two choices, above the picture rail (painfully restored by Daddyo) and below. (Forget my disquisition on why you'd want to restore a picture rail in a contrasting color [these characters all believe in natural-colored woodwork, having spent literally years on stripping and restoring it] in a tiny room, the dark line serving only to emphasize the claustrophobic periphery of the quarters you must share with a bitch who refuses to replace the really grotty "temporary" yard sale curtains, in lavendar polyester, she has hung to reproach you for restoring the bedroom yourself.)

They chose. I cried. And I'm not just talking about imposing my mandarin tastes on people who like other styles. I'm really good about that. I like lots of things I'd never do myself. They chose babyshit green and, against all previously charted colors on the spectrum, she managed to find a babyshit blue. Both. On his hand-mixed and hand-trowelled plaster.

I noticed he's been spending a lot of time writing about the garden lately.
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 06:32 am
 
RE: Tropical Storm Fay: good god this thing hates Florida.

For the past week I think I've spent more hours asleep than awake. Maybe I'm preparing to enter a deep hibernation, after which I'll awaken and unfurl really pretty butterfly wings. Maybe something [else] is wrong with my brain. The ratio of things I have answers to to those I want answers to is something like 1 : 10000000000000. Life's not fair that way, but I forgot to insist that fairness be part of the contract before I signed off on being born. My mistake.
 
 
Current Music: Atomship - Friends
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 06:17 am
Writer's Block: Remembering Summer  

Care to reminisce about some favorite (or not so favorite) summer memories?

Submitted by [info]the_nerd_reaper


View other answers



Yes, that actually sounds enjoyable.

What I'm going to do first, though, is explain how much I like the word reminisce. Here we go: I like the word reminisce. It looks pretty. It sounds pretty. And look! There's not one, but two silent letters on the end! Words have spare letters to limp themselves home in case of a literary blowout on the information superhighway. Those who crafted this beautiful system of lines and curves to communicate were thinking ahead -- one thousand years ahead. The Normans were true visionaries; I say the Normans, since they were the ones who saw fit to marinate the Anglo-Saxon tongue in their rich French Vinaigrette that endowed upon English its best qualities, a good example of which being "choisissent" in which nearly half the letters are silent.

Now then, on to the summer reminiscing. I strongly recall one summer -- the one during 1998, I believe -- and the online shenanigans therein. We had dial-up internet, and I had an account on Nintendo's Bulletin Board System. The nature of dial-up means that with one phone line one cannot both be on the phone and brag about one's fabricated Star Fox 64 high score to others in locations unknown. I had become quite addicted to the like of the latter, and so allowed ample time for my dad's attempts to call home from work to evolve first from frustration to anger, then to panic, and finally to issuance of a week's grounding. For the curious, this took four and one-half hours.

The favorite and not-so-favorite aspects do a good job of balancing each other out.
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 01:18 am
 
I burned my hand down to new layers of skin. It took almost a week for the skin to soften and then peel off. Now there's a thin yellow-white line of new flesh, surrounded by angry pink skin regrowing. I keep it constantly covered in a salve. I stopped for a day or so and it became dry and hard and itched fierce.

Periodically I clench and flex my hand to try to keep as much skin as possible loose. I'm excited to have another so visible scar. The burn was harsh and will heal into something hard and clean and smooth.
 
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 11:29 pm
what is a soul?  
got my son.... he looks tired.... will go to sleep soon.... we ate pizza and watched a DVD of a guy being brought back to life from being dead and frozen.... his soul did not come back with him and he was a monster of sorts... not caring for others and just about power to the point of killing and imposing his base desires as rule. very interesting.... to think about what a soul is.... I mean, do twins have souls that are different or are their souls some how linked and similar as are their physical bodies? My neighbor in this apartment complex is a twin, and her sister looks and acts so much like her that today, when I saw her coming out of the apartment, I could not tell who was who! Are my alters same soul or different souls in me? Is art me a different soul or the same soul as me? and , I read that tortoise shell cats cannot be cloned, that their clones are either one parent or the other.... and that it is impossible to have the same cat come out again if they are torties.... so.... if you clone something, does it have a soul?

what is a soul?what would a person be without a soul? are souls the same as personalities, and if so, do each of my personalities have a soul?

( posted this to fetlife.com erotic_hypnosis group as a question) I know that dissociation is done while putting some one under into trance... and that some times the hypnotist forms an alter personality to be a slave while under... I had some doms do this to me.... and create a slave to be robot like in obedience.... I just wonder, since I am a multiple... does each personality have a soul, and if an alter personality is created in trance, does it have a soul? Does hypnotizing some one tap into their soul, their mind, or their body and how and what happens when you do?
 
 
Current Mood: curious
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 10:37 pm
Wearable flexi-rosary  

Ah, it looks like I finally found a match - a wearable rosary that will work with a rosary animation.
posted by Talaith Llewellyn on Braunworth using a blogHUD : [permalink]

Edited to add: It didn't quite work. But I have some other ideas.
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 10:27 pm
Click-and-pray  

I can't get the rosary I bought separately to work with this "rosary - female sitting" animation, but I like the idea. I was in a mood to pray today but was having trouble finding the words. Sometimes "click-and- pray," as silly as it sounds, can actually help. So, here's a prayer for all my friends.
posted by Talaith Llewellyn on Valley of Tears using a blogHUD : [permalink]
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 11:43 pm
 
Latest artwork:


Probably PG-13 and above )

It was fun to draw the gun. I don't normally go for such detail because I'm, well, lazy... But it was cool. It's a Beretta of some sort. The pic is based on my web comic Iron Lady based on Gerry Anderson's Thunderbirds. The ring is relevant, the gun is relevant, the ridiculous skinnyness of John (the character in the picture, middle brother who appears to have a secret) is relevant. Just a pity the sheet is there >_< heheheh...
 
 
Current Location: In the living room
Current Mood: restless
Current Music: Listening to 'Snapped: Women Who Kill' on TV
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 02:49 pm
Dead Ends- A Lesson in how to Apply Philosophy, and the Limits of that Application.  
From Tertullian's De Praescriptione Haereticorum:

What indeed has Athens to do with Jerusalem? Away with all attempts to produce a mottled Christianity of Stoic, Platonic, and dialectic composition! With our faith, we desire no further belief.

Go to the SFU Humanities page.  Click on the link on the bottom left-hand side that says "What Can I Do With A Humanities Degree?"
 
 
Current Location: Front porch
Current Mood: Writing
Current Music: A piece of mystery lyrics- "Tears make the most beautiful pearls"
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 05:02 pm
flag  
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 04:44 pm
 
I am actually enjoying unpacking and organizing my apartment today and this past weekend. I have so much more to do still. It is not done. Far from done.

Seeing Leo working so hard inspired me to work hard too. I like being around people who are hard workers and positive.

Still have not heard back from him, but, he will be around. He's a great guy!

Missed him last night holding me.

Percy catr has been playful today. She is playing with my toe nail spacer for putting on toe nail polish! She is upside down.... near the steps... the workers outside are installing more of the waning they just put outside of our apartment doors to keep the elements off of us while we stand looking for the key to open our apartment doors! They are held up with columns.... so pretty!

I am very anxious and nervous about this new school year.... where I will be placed to teach.... if it will be as stressful as it was last year or not?
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 01:38 pm
Kada porastem, biću...  
VoicePost Help
346K 1:52
“ćao svima! skoro četiri nedelje nisam pravila audio blog i mislila sam da pravim jedan jer, jer meni zanima kako zvučim, da li govorim bolje nego što sam govorila, i...

Kada sam imala tri godine, mama mi je pitala šta biću kada porastem i rekla sam joj da biću pingvin jer meni je sviđalo njihove odeće i onda kada sam imala četiri godine rešila sam da kada porastem biću vatrogasna sprava. I mama mi je pitala "nećeš biti vatrogasac?" Rekla sam "ne, biću vatrogasna sprava zato što je vatrogasna sprava crvena i možeš ići brzo." Mislila sam da to je dobar posao za mene. Ali možda, možda je pingvin bolje posao, ne znam. Ne znam šta da kažem. ćao”

Transcribed by: [info]pthalogreen


(Hi everyone! I haven't made an audio blog for almost four weeks, so I thought I'd make one because I'm interested in what I sound like and whether I speak better than I used to and...

When I was three years old, my mother asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I told her I would be a penguin because I liked their clothes. And then when I was four years old I decided to be a fire truck when I grew up. My mother asked me "Don't you mean you want to be a firefighter?" I said "Nope, I'm gonna be a fire truck because fire trucks are red and you can go fast." I thought that would be a good job for me. But maybe, maybe penguin is a better job, I don't know. And I'm out of things to say. Bye.)
 
 
Current Location: Arizoni
Current Mood: shy
Current Music: Jelena Tomašević - Jutro
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 11:59 am
epic my ass  
I have one thing to say to LJ and writers therein: use the word epic correctly. Sure it's fun to describe everything with that jaded word. But let's get it straight: an epic is a story about the big journey of a hero. Gilgamesh had an epic and so did Odysseus. Just because something is long, monumental, dramatic, or romantic doesn't mean it's epic. Just like sad things aren't "tragic". Epic metal is not a sub genre of metal!!! It is Folk or Viking, and may contain lyrics about traveling pillaging or conquering.

DIMMU BURGER IS NOT EPIC!


I have thought about composing a list of all the books I've read, just to see if I remember them all. I always have this thought when I finish a book. Especially since I'm such a damn slow reader and it's like a major accomplishment for me to finish a book. Anyway, I got through Hirsi Ali's book Infidel and it was great. A new p.o.v. and a great writer, she knows at least four languages but her english vocabulary is better than mine :( :( :(

I told a guy off at work. He has pissed me off since the first day I worked there. It was not that bad but at one point I did say to him, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Have you no shame?" Because he always puts his coworkers down and is so damn self righteous. I was serious and he was silent.

So I have 1.5 days left of this shit and then I have all the time in the world to go hiking and enjoy nature and get prepped for moving.
 
 
Current Music: TYR - Regin Simour
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 06:38 pm
 
Well, I shall summarize the past year as well as I can.

1: Graduated uni with a 2.1. I ROCK! So very pleased.
2: Starting my Masters in Medieval Literature in September, scary beans!
3: Made a boatload of new friends
4: Found religion (turns out God was with me all along!), became a Baha'i
5: Moved out again, then spent summer months at home with the parents *grumbles*
6: Got cool new huge flat to live in with Matthias, ma paramour :D
7: Got way cool at poker
8: Continued being a Scout Leader, though going to have to give it up for a while because...
9: ...I got a new job! £7.55/hour plus bonus, really close to the flat: I can pay the rent!
10: Got a psychiatrist at last, and am knee-deep in therapy with my psychologist. Getting better!
11: Found out that my personality disorder and depression cannot be cured entirely, but learning to control them
12: Got interest from a London publisher in my book Child of Light. Yeah! Kick-ass!
13: Started making wedding invitations and such
14: Adpoted six guinea pigs!

And I can't think of much more atm. Woot!
Tags: , ,
 
 
Current Mood: moody
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 02:32 pm
Guano  
TMI )
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 09:17 pm
[LJ2ME]  
йа сегодня красотко, надела в кои-то веки розовую мини-юпку. отличные ощущения.
 
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 07:09 pm
апокалиптическое  
так вот, упадок империй, сопровождаемый крайним либерализмом, согласно истории, науке весьма сомнительной, но неумолимой, оканчивался тем, что упадническое общество захватывали так называемые варвары, у когторых общественные установки были посильнее и поконкретнее. где люди еще видели свои цели, могли выбрать для себя смысл жизни, знали, что у них есть ценности. примеры из глобальной современности? пожалуйста. рафинированный старый свет и заблукавший окончательно в своей демократии запад, с одной стороны, и мусульманский мир с четким взглядом в свое будущее, сильная своим медвежьим напором россия плюс китай, который в 2018 будет демпинговать кока-колу по 18 юаней, с другой. чувствуете, чем грозит старый сценарий?

и ведь еще ни разу количество культуры не переросло в качество цивилизации. всегда приходилось начинать все почти сначала. ну сколько ж можно... по-моему, пора людям прийти в ум, объединиться с одной какой-нибудь целью, например, освоить пределы солнечной системы людьми, а не автоматами. или - всеобщая грамотность. или еще что-нибудь из раздела фантастики на втором этаже.

а ведь можно!
 
 
Current Mood: беспросветное
Current Music: Плач Єремії - Вона
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 12:58 pm
 
"Jury duty scheduled for 9 AM on Wednesday, August twentieth has been cancelled. Those scheduled to appear do not need to come in. Thank you."

WHOEVER DROPPED CHARGES OR TOOK A PLEA BARGAIN OR WHATEVER TO MAKE THIS HAPPEN THANK YOU VERY VERY MUCH
 
 
20 August 2008 @ 12:10 am
Reposted with permission from [info]karcy  
This blogpost, originally posted on Livejournal, by [info]karcy, taken from her friend Ethan's blog, to me underscores what is wrong with National Service.


-Hell, (c) Ethan, July 19,2008, reposted.


National Service. It’s been hell.

You’ve heard the stories. How about another?

The first thing that hit me like first love was the racial divide. The Chinese mix with Chinese, Malays with Malays, Indians with Indians. We were asked several times to line up according to race (Malays here, Chinese here, Indians here, Dan Lain-Lain here) in order to distribute the races equally when it came to sorting us into classes, companies, and dorms. There are Wakil Bangsa (race representative) members for feedback about the food we have in the canteen. We are to see our respective Wakil Bangsa if we have any comments or complaints. The basketball team has a race quota: two Malays, two Chinese, and, if I’m not mistaken, room for one Dan Lain-Lain. The week before we were due to return home for holiday, they picked a representative from each race and announced that if we had any questions regarding the traveling arrangements we could talk to our Wakil Bangsa. It’s a rule, written and hung on the walls of our classrooms, that we should respect members of other races and religions.

Last week a fight broke out in Dorm One. Four Malay and three Chinese boys had decided to settle their differences by force. The cops came in. The trainers, teachers, and camp commandant were visibly agitated. They assembled the camp and told us repeatedly that it was not a racial issue, that it was an isolated case involving individuals, and that in an NS camp race didn’t matter as we were all Bangsa Malaysia. They went on this note for some time, so much so that it became clear they were exacerbating a wound they were desperately trying to cover up. That night the air quivered with tension. The Chinese gathered. The leader of the pack promised swift retaliation should any of his Chinese brethren suffer. They whispered, cast dark glances at the Malays, and were prepared to leap into action that very night. The deep distrust between the races bubbled and frothed but remained in the pot. Nothing happened. There was no racial retribution that day or during the days that followed.

A friend of mine missed roll call one night because he wasn’t well. When the head of his dorm reported it to the trainers, they didn’t even bother to inquire about what he was down with, they only wanted to know his race. The following day he was sent to the medic. He had dengue.

As it was with our races, the trainers displayed the same diligence when it came to sorting us by religion. We were told to stand here, there, or here according to our religion. The Malays stood on one side, all Muslim obviously, no questions asked. The non-Malays stood another side, then were divided by Buddhists, Hindus, Christians. All the Buddhists were Chinese. All the Hindus were Indian. I stood alone as the only Christian. Half the camp stared. Their eyes made my neck burn.

The Muslims are told, reminded, and scolded on a daily basis to attend the surau. A trainer once gave the Muslims a verbal lashing for talking during his friendly reminder. He quickly turned sour and launched into an angry lecture about the duties of orang Islam. The rest of us non-orang Islam were excused from the lecture, but we had to sit through it anyway. Another time, we were told that should any Malay be caught outside the surau when he was supposed to be inside, his whole dorm would be punished. They haven’t succeeded in catching any truants yet.

Every morning we wake up at 5.30am because the Muslims rise to go to the surau. By 6.30am we’re out on the padang kawad to raise the flags. We sing Negaraku and the Khidmat Negara theme song. We recite the Rukun Negara. Then there’s an Islamic prayer. For Muslims only. The non-Muslims are excused, excused to the extent that we don’t have to hold up our hands in prayer. We still have to go through with it every morning because Malaysia is, after all, an Islamic country.

To their credit, the trainers have been remarkably conscientious in getting the non-Muslims to their temples or churches. I was surprised to discover they were ready to take me to church even if I was the only trainee in the bus. One trainer told us that everyone had a religion. No, he corrected himself, everyone should have a religion. If you didn’t have a religion, you might as well climb up a building and jump. What was the use of living? And so, if you had a religion, you’d better do as your religion dictated. If you’re Buddhist, go to the temple. Hindu, go to the temple. Muslim, go to the surau. Christian, go to church. We nodded. One can’t argue with such logic.

Race, religion, and language are a Holy Trinity. They exist as three distinct individuals and yet are one mysterious, inseparable whole. Being a Malay means Islam and Bahasa Melayu. Being an Indian means Hinduism and Tamil. And so on and so forth. As a Chinese who isn’t a Buddhist but a Christian, and as a Chinese who cannot speak a word of Chinese, I’ve distinguished myself as an unholy aberration. To meet someone who doesn’t fit into any of your stereotypes is quite an experience. Your view of the world and its inhabitants are challenged to move to broader horizons, but you don’t like change. None of us do. It’s easier to dismiss an anomaly as an exception to the rule and proceed to treat said anomaly accordingly. I’ve been questioned more times than I care to remember whether I’m really Chinese. Are my parents Chinese? Why can’t I speak the language of my kin? Oh dear, oh dear. When I reply that I’m anak Malaysia, not anak Cina, so far their only response has been a blank look and an open mouth.

The racist logic that ties all Chinese to the Chinese language, and all Indians to saris, and all Malays to Islam, is a fantastic elephant in the room. Ask around and many will tell you, with a world-weary sigh, that that’s how it is. It’s a fact of life. That’s how the cookie crumbles and you’d better get with the program. Slapping RACE and RELIGION on people’s foreheads is a perfectly acceptable practice. We’ll have our own little China Towns. We’ll go to our temples. You bumiputeras can do what you want. Just leave us alone. This mentality is born in schools, nurtured in homes, and finally comes of age in a National Service camp. The trainers and teachers tell us that we are Bangsa Malaysia, one race, that the blood that runs in our veins is Malaysian blood. With their lips they say as much. With their hands they draw the lines that divide again and again. Given enough time they get so that when they see racism they call it integration. After a while, that’s all that they can see.

In case you didn’t know, the National Service logo, the three red flames rising out of Malaysia’s crescent and star, is supposed to symbolize the three races united under one flag. It’s incredible. I can’t imagine a more fitting logo.

I haven’t spilled all the beans. The worst is yet to come.

And I have another one and a half months to go.
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 10:59 am
Bible Study Class: The Sacrifice of Isaac  
I'm interested in, for my own purposes, the politics of innocence. To which end I've been reading Adam, Eve and the Serpent by Elaine Pagels, the third or fourth of her works I've enjoyed. She emphasizes the politics of the choice, centuries after its writing, by such characters as Ireneus, of the version of the Bible that we now take as gospel. The account of the resurrection, for example, which privileges apostolic succession (rather than the alternative text, which asserts that Mary Magdalene was the first to see the risen Christ: that would mean whores as pope, and We Can't Have That), and the inclusion of the books written long after the apostle Paul to contradict and ameliorate his message on marriage. His message was that celibacy is the mark of the true Christian, which might equally be men and women; the contradictors, aka the Deutero Paulines (great name for a girl group), assert that marriage is good and that women are bad. Paul is much maligned as a misogynist; but he is actually an egalitarian who doesn't like sex. 'Tis better to marry, he conceded, than to burn.

While making a persuasive case for the choice of alternate texts at a later date for political reasons, Pagels also denies that it is done for political reasons, a tenure-worthy feint for which I kiss the hem of her mini.*

So I have come to read the Bible as a political document, among other things. Over at [info]sacred_texts the Bible portion last week included the sacrifice of Isaac, which may be the central episode of the old Testament, a horrendous story.

I have two responses.

First, without looking at the footnotes of who wrote it and when, I suspect it was formulated as a narrative to shock and awe the Molech-worshipping pagans -- proselytizing being one of the Jews' major efforts. Letting thy seed pass through the fire to Molech -- explicitly, burning babies as human sacrifice to the pagan gods, was one of the practices the Jews are forbidden (in Leviticus, along with all kinds of other stuff).

I posit that the Abraham and Isaac story was formulated to teach the Molechians that god doesn't really want human sacrifice, though it is your duty to have faith in his telling you he does. Real faith will rewarded by the sparing of your child.

The really powerful aspect of this message is that Jehovah is a god as powerful as Molech, because he demands the sacrifice not just of animals, but of Abraham's only convenantal son. Which means his is bigger than yours.

William James remarks upon the character of a god who demands not only human sacrifice, but the sacrifice of the very best young man there is, as a mark of the god's power.

James, in a slightly different context, points up how such cruel appetites are a status marker for the king of kings:

But such common-sense prejudices and instincts are themselves the fruit of an empirical evolution. Nothing is more striking than the secular alteration that goes on in the moral and religious tone of men, as their insight into nature and their social arrangements progressively develop. After an interval of a few generations the mental climate proves unfavorable to notions of the deity which at an earlier date were perfectly satisfactory: the older gods have fallen below the common secular level, and can no longer be believed in. Today a deity who should require bleeding sacrifices to placate him would be too sanguinary to be taken seriously. Even if powerful historical credentials were put forward in his favor, we would not look at them. Once, on the contrary, his cruel appetites were of themselves credentials. They positively recommended him to men's imaginations in ages when such coarse signs of power were respected and no others could be understood. Such deities then were worshiped because such fruits were relished.

http://etext.virginia.edu/etcbin/toccer-new2?id=JamVari.sgm&images=images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed&tag=public&part=all


Second, Homer and the Greeks contributed to this idea, that tragedy is when a hero, young and good, dies. To have Isaac or Jesus be sacrificed to God is a mark of the power of the monotheists' God in the pagan emotional transaction. To those for whom the greatest sacrifice is a black rooster, the human sacrifice of one's son is a conformation of the Isaac and Jesus stories into a proselytizing polemic.

It makes God bigger than Molech, and I think that is the conscious political purpose of the Isaac story. It also makes Isaac and Jesus each a hero and a manly man. Very important.

I'd like to know if the Isaac story was written at the same time as the Iliad, and I'd be much interested in how Aristotle's Poetics -- explicitly his still-operative, in Hollywood, strictures for tragedy and the tragic hero -- influenced the Jesus story, and depending on the dates, the influence of Isaac on Homer and vice versa.**

The entire notion of manhood, as well as all the hero ideology of war and literature, is based on the three stories -- Hector/Achilles, Isaac, and Jesus. The good die young, and to propitiate the gods.

[If you can stand it, read Jay Winter's Sites of Memory, Sites of Mourning, and compare it to the Bush heroics of Iraq.]


_____________________________________

*Writes Pagels:

One of my colleagues, misunderstanding the viewpoint presented here and in my previous book, The Gnostic Gospels, has objected that religious ideas cannot be reduced to practical (or, in his words, political) agendas. On this I wholeheartedly agree with him. I am not saying that religious ideas are nothing but a cover for political motives, as if, for example, Christians in the fourth century first chose to join forces with the Roman state and then adopted the doctrine of original sin to justify their new political direction [oh, but grrl! you so do!]. Instead [you're killin' me!], I intend to show that religious insights and moral choices, in actual experience, coincide with practical ones [Chica! let me drink your bathwater!] Scholars and Theologians may separate them theoretically [hee hee], but at the cost of distorting our understanding: in our actual experience -- as in that of Christians in the first four centuries -- moral choices are often political choices. An act of religious affirmation is always, in some sense, a practical and consequential act.

Op.cit., p. xxvii

**Sez here, Homer came first. I thought as much.

Bruce Louden takes this on in his book on the Iliad, in which "The second part of the book compares fourteen subgenres of myth in the Iliad to contemporaneous Near Eastern traditions such as those of the Old Testament and of Ugaritic mythology."

For Louden on Herakles, Isaac and human sacrifice, click here.
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 02:54 pm
 
Everybody congratulate me!

I'll tell you why later.
 
 
19 August 2008 @ 04:57 am
Writer's Block: Romance!  

What's the most romantic thing you have done for someone?

Submitted by [info]kaitosleepz


View other answers



Certainly, it was the time my girlfriend had come home after a long day at work. I had a nice dinner of coq au vin ready for her, along with this sweet poem that the mood had struck me just right to create.

It was an incredible night made even better when you realize the above story is an allegory. I don't currently and never have had a girlfriend (few will be surprised at this revelation); instead, she represent groceries. Yes, groceries. Specifically, hotdogs and buns. When you also realize that the dinner and poem I had ready represent ketchup and sweet relish, the whole thing begins to make some seriously delicious sense.

Romance simply isn't a part of who I am, whether I'd like it to be or not. Any capacity I have for showing affection, charmingness, subtlety, or any of that mushy stuff is drowned out by an awkwardness of incredible magnitude. For the time being, I'd rather embrace that and milk it for all it's worth.

If nothing else, it makes better stories. Tales of hot dog dinners are ones a broader audience can relate to, though admittedly not everyone. I don't write for vegetarians, you see.
 
 
18 August 2008 @ 07:41 pm
I got fired  
Today, the video game publisher I was working at let me go. Their reason: my performance wasn't as good as the others that they hired at the same as me. They said that my character is good, but my competence with the technologies was lacking, and they didn't have time to slowly train me. The project they assigned me to needs to be completed quickly, and they worry about me not being able to provide enough substantial contributions to find all the bugs on time. Therefore, the company let me go. So, once again, I'm unemployed and stuck being a dreamer.
 
 
Current Mood: crushed
 
 
 
18 August 2008 @ 07:09 pm
 
Favorite quotation of the moment...

We think space and time are important because that's the kind of monkeys we are.


http://www.nature.com/news/2008/080813/full/news.2008.1038.html

via kottke