You know what this prompt makes me think of? Love Actually. When Hugh Grant, in his voice-over, talks about how love is all around us, and nowhere is it more obvious than at the airport. I don't really agree with that- my last experience at an airport was about 11 months ago, in the few days between a blizzard and a polar vortex- but I get the sentiment.
Anyway, it's hard to decide one thing that brings out the best in people. Or the good, at least. One thing I can say is that it's NOT forced volunteering. Oh, safety town 2003, never forget. Has it really been that long since I failed safety town as a 15-year-old? Damn, it must be. What's weird is that there is, no doubt, some chronicle of it in this very blog.
Ideally, I'd like to be able to answer "weddings" to this question, seeing as I've been involved in all manner of them the past few years. But that's so definitely not true. I think that goes along with the "forced" volunteering. I'm not convinced anyone really wants a wedding, or that those who do understand what it entails. Weddings are terrible. They're fine and dandy when you're a guest and if you're not involved (you know, unless you drink like twelve Manhattans and make a fool of yourself in front of people in eveningwear worth more than your month's stipend...) but actually hosting/being intimately involved in one? No. It's awful and there's pressure on you from all sides, and you never really get to do what you want, but you will spend upwards of $20,000 (average) to do those things you don't really care about. This society needs to normalise eloping right now, or at least embrace small, casual weddings. The whole "Say Yes to the Dress" thing is a nightmare. Plus, family. Why does everyone always talk about how excellent family is? The last two weddings I was in, various members of the families only contributed to making things worse.
But being around people who are friends, I guess that brings out the good. It doesn't matter much what it is specifically- a party, actual volunteering, hanging out with a few people, whatever. Being with the people you're comfortable with, who you can actually relax and be open with, that's what's good. Honesty is good. The whole wedding example sucks because you're stuck with family who doesn't actually care about or understand your viewpoint, so you can't be yourself.
Despite my cynicism, I really do think most people are good deep down. There are a whole host of reasons they don't always act good, but no one sees themselves as the villain. Even if their version of "good" is highly delusional (lookin' at you, Hitler) I don't think people want to be evil or bad or anything. They just end up getting turned into that by society and upbringing and a whole host of other things. But, at the end of the day, people want to be good. And being honest with yourself is an important step in that; but being around people you can express that with, it helps.
Anyone who is introspective for like, five minutes, probably won't end up that terrible. And people who are terrible probably have been too afraid to examine themselves from an outsider's perspective. I mean a real outsider, too, not Jesus or some make-believe person who is all hugs and forgiveness. We are flawed, yes, but so is everyone else. It's important to consider not just how we see ourselves, but how others see us. And it's good to be surrounded by people who love you and accept your flaws, but who won't pretend they aren't there or don't matter.
I think I'm rambling on something that may or may not be related to the topic. Whatever.
Be excellent to each other.
Thursday, November 06, 2014
Sunday, August 11, 2013
20. Write about your greatest fear.
(Whoo-hoo! 1/4th of the way through these prompts after only two years!)
Um, so. My greatest fear. You know, sometimes I think about this because I've read 1984 a lot. What would my room 101 be? I mean, Winston's rat thing is pretty gnarly (as seen in GoT last season) and all, but I don't wander around constantly fearing rats. Which is a good thing, because I've actually noticed a high influx of them recently in the city. I wonder if the Bro-yotes (they wander about Wrigleyville) have moved to a new area? But yes, what would the thought police use to torture me, to break my spirit and get me to denounce all those I care for? There are always needles, which I hate, but that's half the pre-101 torture ritual, so I'd have to confront those long before I was relegated to my existential doom. So what's left?
Sometimes I think the answer is "love" or "commitment." Have fun with that, Big Brother. I think I have a horrendous fear, not of loving other people so much, but of letting them love me. Which I understand is insane and illogical, as I have a metric fuck-tonne of friends who I objectively know love me (no homo?) But also I'm afraid of being loved; it's great and awesome responsibility, to have people who are willing to open up to you. I joke about dying alone since relationships are (obviously) not my thing, but really I won't; nor do I ever really have to worry about being lonely. I'm grateful for that.
I feel like I'm losing track here. I don't care about this topic that much. I dwell on this stuff enough as it is. -shrug-
Okay that's all today. I'm sad it's not being sunny long enough for me to go to the beach. Goodbye.
Um, so. My greatest fear. You know, sometimes I think about this because I've read 1984 a lot. What would my room 101 be? I mean, Winston's rat thing is pretty gnarly (as seen in GoT last season) and all, but I don't wander around constantly fearing rats. Which is a good thing, because I've actually noticed a high influx of them recently in the city. I wonder if the Bro-yotes (they wander about Wrigleyville) have moved to a new area? But yes, what would the thought police use to torture me, to break my spirit and get me to denounce all those I care for? There are always needles, which I hate, but that's half the pre-101 torture ritual, so I'd have to confront those long before I was relegated to my existential doom. So what's left?
Sometimes I think the answer is "love" or "commitment." Have fun with that, Big Brother. I think I have a horrendous fear, not of loving other people so much, but of letting them love me. Which I understand is insane and illogical, as I have a metric fuck-tonne of friends who I objectively know love me (no homo?) But also I'm afraid of being loved; it's great and awesome responsibility, to have people who are willing to open up to you. I joke about dying alone since relationships are (obviously) not my thing, but really I won't; nor do I ever really have to worry about being lonely. I'm grateful for that.
I feel like I'm losing track here. I don't care about this topic that much. I dwell on this stuff enough as it is. -shrug-
Okay that's all today. I'm sad it's not being sunny long enough for me to go to the beach. Goodbye.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Bonus Drunk Post!
Hey guys! And by 'guys' I mean 'no one' because that's who reads this!
I'm drunk right now, because my friend and I went to BYOB dinner and then BYOB comedy show and basically I had a bottle of wine and a beer. And since I've lost 15 to 20 pounds since April (yay, minor victories!), that's... that's plenty to get me drunk. I'm making chik'n nuggets right now (yay, minor victories!) and so whilst I drunkenly consume soy-based pseudo-meats, I want to share a series of truths about myself.
1) I've been using the same password for certain things since I was 10. I tell people I don't even remember what it means, which is why it's perfect. But the truth is, I remember exactly what it means- it's a weird and not entirely intuitive reference to the person I had a crush on at age ten. But the numbers are truly random. Which is why it makes sort of a great password. Still.
2) I love walking home alone at night. I don't even care how dangerous it probably is since I live in the 'hood, at least as far as the north side is concerned.
3) Apparently I'm super into guys with beards. When did this happen? When did I become an old woman?
4) Number of times I've burnt my left arm today: twice. Once earlier when I was taking stuff out of the autoclave; the second was literally two minutes ago, between points 3 and 4, when I burnt myself on the toaster oven making my chik'n nuggets.
5) I miss writing. A lot. You'd think that'd be enough motivation to work on the poster presentation I have to give in nine days, but it's not.
6) I'm also really attracted to funny people.
7) I don't think I'm attractive, so my comprehensive list of people I find attractive (Hi, Cracked's Daniel O'Brien!) is sort of useless because I'd never have the confidence to go through with it.
8) Wine makes me brutally honest, which could be a bad thing when my boss hosts a gathering next weekend, which will involve free food and wine.
9) But really it won't be a bad thing because I sort of adore my boss and all the people I work with, except for the new post-doc, who I'm not entirely convinced on yet. Not as a scientist, anyway. As a person, she's fine.
10) It is sort of depressing I don't have a significant other to bring with me to said soiree, even though despite the fact I'm pretty weird and messed up, I don't think I'm that much more weird and messed up than a lot of people I know in functional relationships.
11) I like the number eleven.
I'm drunk right now, because my friend and I went to BYOB dinner and then BYOB comedy show and basically I had a bottle of wine and a beer. And since I've lost 15 to 20 pounds since April (yay, minor victories!), that's... that's plenty to get me drunk. I'm making chik'n nuggets right now (yay, minor victories!) and so whilst I drunkenly consume soy-based pseudo-meats, I want to share a series of truths about myself.
1) I've been using the same password for certain things since I was 10. I tell people I don't even remember what it means, which is why it's perfect. But the truth is, I remember exactly what it means- it's a weird and not entirely intuitive reference to the person I had a crush on at age ten. But the numbers are truly random. Which is why it makes sort of a great password. Still.
2) I love walking home alone at night. I don't even care how dangerous it probably is since I live in the 'hood, at least as far as the north side is concerned.
3) Apparently I'm super into guys with beards. When did this happen? When did I become an old woman?
4) Number of times I've burnt my left arm today: twice. Once earlier when I was taking stuff out of the autoclave; the second was literally two minutes ago, between points 3 and 4, when I burnt myself on the toaster oven making my chik'n nuggets.
5) I miss writing. A lot. You'd think that'd be enough motivation to work on the poster presentation I have to give in nine days, but it's not.
6) I'm also really attracted to funny people.
7) I don't think I'm attractive, so my comprehensive list of people I find attractive (Hi, Cracked's Daniel O'Brien!) is sort of useless because I'd never have the confidence to go through with it.
8) Wine makes me brutally honest, which could be a bad thing when my boss hosts a gathering next weekend, which will involve free food and wine.
9) But really it won't be a bad thing because I sort of adore my boss and all the people I work with, except for the new post-doc, who I'm not entirely convinced on yet. Not as a scientist, anyway. As a person, she's fine.
10) It is sort of depressing I don't have a significant other to bring with me to said soiree, even though despite the fact I'm pretty weird and messed up, I don't think I'm that much more weird and messed up than a lot of people I know in functional relationships.
11) I like the number eleven.
Monday, March 18, 2013
19. If Only I'd Knew
Write about something you now know that you wish you knew earlier in life. How could this knowledge have helped you?
Eh, this. I swear this comes up all the time on Reddit. There's an AskReddit every few weeks where people prompt, "I'm X years old, older redditors, what would you tell yourself at that age if you could?"
The thing about getting perspective is, you have to earn it. It's easy for adults to tell you things about what lies ahead, but you only get that perspective by living it out yourself. Sure, I could TELL my 15-year-old self not to worry about what people think so much or whatever, but when you're that age, you're so caught up in it, and you don't have the later perspective to understand how trivial things are. And I'm sure the problems I have now (even though, honestly, I can't complain about much) will seem banal in another ten years. Sure, it's great to get advice from an older perspective, and eventually you realise that maybe your parents weren't completely full of crap, but the only way to grow and learn as a person is to make mistakes and suffer through them. It's definitely not pleasant, but trial and error seems to be the best way to actually learn a lesson.
Let's be honest, I'm writing in here right now because I'm fucking exhausted after a weekend filled with drinking, and I feel obligated to stay in lab for at least another hour and a half. I was genuinely trying to study/read papers, but my eyes are all droopy and I just can't do it. My boss isn't even here this week, so it probably doesn't matter if I bail (also I'm a useless rotation student) but I just feel so guilty. Everyone else has work to do and I'm just staring out at the incredibly depressing sky. It's that 2:30 feeling that 5-hour energy is always talking about.
My St. Patrick's day weekend was, as usual, escapade-y. Three of my friends and I went to check out the river around 12:30, 1 pm, which was its special St. Patrick's Day green as opposed to its normal murky green. (Also I saw it today because I took the bus and it still has a slightly less depressing green hue to it.) As the great Tommy Lee Jones once said, "If they can dye it green on St. Patrick's Day, why can't they dye it blue the other 364 days?"
The weather was pretty craptastic, as opposed to last year (sunshinnnne I miss you) so we didn't stay long at the river. I mean, that and the fact we were all still sober. Since Molly demanded consumption of beer with food dye in it (because nothing says appetising like drinking alcohol that looks like it's gone mouldy, which is apparently the particular shade of green beer lends itself to) we headed to good ol' Friar Tuck's, which is at this point in my life here sort of my go-to for, "Well, we need to go out and everywhere else is really expensive." I swear, I randomly end up there a lot. Unlike Saturday, it is very rarely a conscious decision. And I've definitely been there for every St. Patrick's Day since I've moved here, which is three. Three St. Patty's. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Anyway, we headed there and indeed were filled with green beer. Brian of course had to watch the Big 10 semis, as the Bucks were playing, so we wound up consuming about four pitchers and several jello shots (which, to their credit, actually tasted like alcohol) before the Buckeyes finally beat Michigan State, much to the chagrin of my friend who was actually at United Centre. At that point, we were hungry, so we went to Binny's to buy alcohol and then took wine to Stella's, where all of us consumed just all of the food.
Aside: I keep hearing this buzzing noise, like a phone or something, except I know for a fact that no one besides me in this lab has a phone. And no one is even in here right now, so it's definitely not the vortex. Shit, I'm going crazy.
Right so after eating all the food, we grabbed "dessert" sort of from Windy City Sweets, where I got chocolate-covered pretzels with chocolate chips on them. Yeah, that's right, chocolate-covered chocolate. The pretzel was only a pretense. After this, Molly and Brian departed, leaving Catie and I to finish drinking wine on our own at my house until we met up with some other people from our programme. If you do the math, this puts us at around 9pm.
By ten we headed out to Wicker Park, incidentally taking the worst bus ride ever on the 72. Seriously, everyone was too drunk and n00b to handle it. But we made it out to Big Star, which I was secretly sort of pissed about because I've been wanting to try their tacos since forever but was still way too full from our diner food. Regardless, we enjoyed $2 beers and the company of our fellow grad students. I use the term "enjoyed" a bit loosely in regards to the latter.
After that, I had the joy of taking the blue line to the red line, where I stood at Jackson for 16 minutes until it showed up. If you've never waited by yourself at the Jackson stop for the red line at 4am, I... well, I don't really recommend it. There were actually plenty of people, none of whom seemed terribly threatening, but still, not the best idea. I got off at Sheridan and grabbed some enchiladas verdes, because of course now I was hungry enough to consume Mexican.
The reason I was so determined to make it home, rather than staying with any of the lovely people who suggested it, is because I had to get up bright and early Sunday (aside: I would have had to wake up by 9, though I woke up at 7:30 because I'm a psychopath and don't sleep anymore) to head out to Lombard, which is apparently a suburb, and get fitted for this stupid bridesmaids dress. That was appropriately depressing, as the dress is not going to look great on me. Huzzah! I rewarded myself with a trip to IKEA for lunch and decor. Upon returning home, rather than sleep, I mounted some pictures and fabric in frames to hang up, set out the new rug I bought, and sewed new covers for our futon pillows, since the shitty-ass fabric I bought when we moved in was pretty much destroyed, despite the fact that we don't curl up with them all that much. But now the house looks marginally more like a home, so that's pretty nice.
So obviously today I'm still quite tired. Also I have bandaids on 30% of my fingers, partially from sewing/framing and partially because I have a bad habit of abusing my cuticles. I still have an hour and ten minutes to kill before I feel like I can escape, but this writing has every so slightly bolstered my attention span. I swear, I couldn't even read that well on the bus this morning, despite the fact that I'm reading 1Q84 and loving it.
I've had some time off from writing reviews, but next week three of my shows pick back up, so no doubt I'll be sick of writing after that. Okay, everyone who doesn't read this (so everyone in the world), god speed.
Eh, this. I swear this comes up all the time on Reddit. There's an AskReddit every few weeks where people prompt, "I'm X years old, older redditors, what would you tell yourself at that age if you could?"
The thing about getting perspective is, you have to earn it. It's easy for adults to tell you things about what lies ahead, but you only get that perspective by living it out yourself. Sure, I could TELL my 15-year-old self not to worry about what people think so much or whatever, but when you're that age, you're so caught up in it, and you don't have the later perspective to understand how trivial things are. And I'm sure the problems I have now (even though, honestly, I can't complain about much) will seem banal in another ten years. Sure, it's great to get advice from an older perspective, and eventually you realise that maybe your parents weren't completely full of crap, but the only way to grow and learn as a person is to make mistakes and suffer through them. It's definitely not pleasant, but trial and error seems to be the best way to actually learn a lesson.
Let's be honest, I'm writing in here right now because I'm fucking exhausted after a weekend filled with drinking, and I feel obligated to stay in lab for at least another hour and a half. I was genuinely trying to study/read papers, but my eyes are all droopy and I just can't do it. My boss isn't even here this week, so it probably doesn't matter if I bail (also I'm a useless rotation student) but I just feel so guilty. Everyone else has work to do and I'm just staring out at the incredibly depressing sky. It's that 2:30 feeling that 5-hour energy is always talking about.
My St. Patrick's day weekend was, as usual, escapade-y. Three of my friends and I went to check out the river around 12:30, 1 pm, which was its special St. Patrick's Day green as opposed to its normal murky green. (Also I saw it today because I took the bus and it still has a slightly less depressing green hue to it.) As the great Tommy Lee Jones once said, "If they can dye it green on St. Patrick's Day, why can't they dye it blue the other 364 days?"
 |
| Not Pictured: GFP |
The weather was pretty craptastic, as opposed to last year (sunshinnnne I miss you) so we didn't stay long at the river. I mean, that and the fact we were all still sober. Since Molly demanded consumption of beer with food dye in it (because nothing says appetising like drinking alcohol that looks like it's gone mouldy, which is apparently the particular shade of green beer lends itself to) we headed to good ol' Friar Tuck's, which is at this point in my life here sort of my go-to for, "Well, we need to go out and everywhere else is really expensive." I swear, I randomly end up there a lot. Unlike Saturday, it is very rarely a conscious decision. And I've definitely been there for every St. Patrick's Day since I've moved here, which is three. Three St. Patty's. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Anyway, we headed there and indeed were filled with green beer. Brian of course had to watch the Big 10 semis, as the Bucks were playing, so we wound up consuming about four pitchers and several jello shots (which, to their credit, actually tasted like alcohol) before the Buckeyes finally beat Michigan State, much to the chagrin of my friend who was actually at United Centre. At that point, we were hungry, so we went to Binny's to buy alcohol and then took wine to Stella's, where all of us consumed just all of the food.
 |
| Waiter, I think this has expired. |
Right so after eating all the food, we grabbed "dessert" sort of from Windy City Sweets, where I got chocolate-covered pretzels with chocolate chips on them. Yeah, that's right, chocolate-covered chocolate. The pretzel was only a pretense. After this, Molly and Brian departed, leaving Catie and I to finish drinking wine on our own at my house until we met up with some other people from our programme. If you do the math, this puts us at around 9pm.
By ten we headed out to Wicker Park, incidentally taking the worst bus ride ever on the 72. Seriously, everyone was too drunk and n00b to handle it. But we made it out to Big Star, which I was secretly sort of pissed about because I've been wanting to try their tacos since forever but was still way too full from our diner food. Regardless, we enjoyed $2 beers and the company of our fellow grad students. I use the term "enjoyed" a bit loosely in regards to the latter.
After that, I had the joy of taking the blue line to the red line, where I stood at Jackson for 16 minutes until it showed up. If you've never waited by yourself at the Jackson stop for the red line at 4am, I... well, I don't really recommend it. There were actually plenty of people, none of whom seemed terribly threatening, but still, not the best idea. I got off at Sheridan and grabbed some enchiladas verdes, because of course now I was hungry enough to consume Mexican.
 |
| I made this with my hands |
So obviously today I'm still quite tired. Also I have bandaids on 30% of my fingers, partially from sewing/framing and partially because I have a bad habit of abusing my cuticles. I still have an hour and ten minutes to kill before I feel like I can escape, but this writing has every so slightly bolstered my attention span. I swear, I couldn't even read that well on the bus this morning, despite the fact that I'm reading 1Q84 and loving it.
I've had some time off from writing reviews, but next week three of my shows pick back up, so no doubt I'll be sick of writing after that. Okay, everyone who doesn't read this (so everyone in the world), god speed.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
No I lied
I'm still bored and just drunk enough that I can't focus on my book. AND I totally forgot about these MySpace surveys that used to be all the rage. So I'm doing one, to capture the nostalgia and also figure out what the fuck is wrong with all teenagers, using my own personality as a reference point.
Note: Maybe not a totally psychologically sound
1. What color are your kitchen plates?
Orange. And made of plastic. Whoa, downgrade.
2. What book are you reading now?
1Q84 by Haruki Murakami, which is amazing.
3. What's on your mouse pad?
hahaha oh, 2003, no one has mouse pads anymore!
4. Favorite board game?
We had a lot of fun playing that zombie game, though I'm partial to Puerto Rico or Settlers
5. Favorite magazines?
I no longer read magazines, and why was I frontin' that I liked CosmoGirl when I was 15? I don't even like Cosmo now.
6. Favorite smells?
cinnamon, this random purfumes thats like 395713875 years old I have, and new car smell, oh, oh, and winter air
^fun fact, I still fucking love that perfume smell for whatever reason. Also, Indian Food.
7. Least favorite smell?
curdled spinach and artichoke dip ruining my nicest pot
8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning?
well seeing as this morning I woke up in a panic at 3:44am, I'm gonna go with, "What the actual fuck?"
9. Favorite color?
OH MAN my orange phase. I was just telling Jeff about that. These days I'm partial to green.
10. Least favorite color?
still not terribly into yellow
11. How many rings before you answer the phone?
aww, phones don't ring anymore.
12. Future child's name?
Ten years later and this question is still irrelevant.
13. What is most important in life?
making something of yourself
^I... I actually agree with myself.
14. Chocolate or vanilla?
Chocolate. Obviously.
15. Do you like to drive fast?
I'm more reasonable these days. But also I pretty much exclusively drive on the highway, and no one in Illinois believes in speed limits anyway.
16. Do you fall asleep with the tv on?
Fuck I don't even watch TV on the TV anymore. I'd get rid of cable if my roommate wasn't so addicted to Bravo.
17. Storms - cool or scary?
Cool, unless you have to go out in them
18. What type was your first car?
princess blue 2003 Camry
Ahh, Huebert, you've yet to let me down baby.
19. Favorite alcoholic drink?
Oh man I have so much more knowledge now than I had in 2003. This is probably just weird nostalgia and my then relatively virgin palette talking, but I still think the cosmos I had at my mom's friend's daughter's weddings when I was 18 were the best thing ever.
20. Do you eat the stems of broccoli?
On the rare occasion I eat broccoli, yeah, I guess I eat all of it
21. If you could have any job what would it be?
fuck I don't even know, but I'll have a PhD when I do it.
22. If you could have any color hair, what would it be?
Mannnnn I still want red hair. But at this point I've accepted a) I'd look awful with it because my skin isn't right and b) having rich brown hair and grey eyes isn't such a bad consolation prize
23. Favorite movie?
Pirates of the Carribean, Ocean's 11, Breakfast at Tiffany's (whoda thunk Id like it?), Gladiator, Back to the Future 1
^I respect my earlier choices, though I'm not sure if BaT, PotC or maybe even Ocean's 11 held up for me. I really like Inglorious Basterds and Love Actually.
24. Do you type with your fingers on the right key?
Yes. Thank you Mags keyboarding, which I evidently took after the original survey.
25. What's under your bed?
Suitcases, clothes I don't wear but am too lazy to sort out, probably old make up
26. What is your favorite number?
eleven, 11, once
^self-agreement. I like doubles in general
27. Favorite sport to watch?
Stilllllll hate watching sports, though I tend to find hockey oddly compelling
28. What is your single biggest fear?
failure I reckon. And needles.
29. Favorite cd?
It isn't even my place to say this anymore. Depends on the day.
30. Favorite tv shows?
shows? no, no, no....'tis only one..........Early Edition.......
^I love my old answer. And I still miss this show. But I didn't watch much TV in my younger years and now that's all I do, so the list is ridiculous
31. Ketchup or mustard?
mustard is a MAYBE, but not a must
32. Hamburgers or hot-dogs?
black bean burgers are pretty delish
33. Favorite soft drink
I don't like pop unless there's booze in it, in which case it doesn't matter so much what it is because alcohol.
34. Best place you have ever been?
Fuck. I've been places now! I like travelling in general, but I sort of feel like the appropriate and correct answer to this is "Chicago."
35. What screen saver is on your computer right now?
I don't have a screen saver, but my wallpaper is this:
36. What is your favorite animal?
God I just love dogs so fucking much. And goats. Love goats.
37. What do you want to be when you grow up?
not destitute.
38. Car you drive now?
Holy shit I couldn't drive when I filled this out. Anyway, please see #3
Note: Maybe not a totally psychologically sound
1. What color are your kitchen plates?
Orange. And made of plastic. Whoa, downgrade.
2. What book are you reading now?
1Q84 by Haruki Murakami, which is amazing.
3. What's on your mouse pad?
hahaha oh, 2003, no one has mouse pads anymore!
4. Favorite board game?
We had a lot of fun playing that zombie game, though I'm partial to Puerto Rico or Settlers
5. Favorite magazines?
I no longer read magazines, and why was I frontin' that I liked CosmoGirl when I was 15? I don't even like Cosmo now.
6. Favorite smells?
cinnamon, this random purfumes thats like 395713875 years old I have, and new car smell, oh, oh, and winter air
^fun fact, I still fucking love that perfume smell for whatever reason. Also, Indian Food.
7. Least favorite smell?
curdled spinach and artichoke dip ruining my nicest pot
8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning?
well seeing as this morning I woke up in a panic at 3:44am, I'm gonna go with, "What the actual fuck?"
9. Favorite color?
OH MAN my orange phase. I was just telling Jeff about that. These days I'm partial to green.
10. Least favorite color?
still not terribly into yellow
11. How many rings before you answer the phone?
aww, phones don't ring anymore.
12. Future child's name?
Ten years later and this question is still irrelevant.
13. What is most important in life?
making something of yourself
^I... I actually agree with myself.
14. Chocolate or vanilla?
Chocolate. Obviously.
15. Do you like to drive fast?
I'm more reasonable these days. But also I pretty much exclusively drive on the highway, and no one in Illinois believes in speed limits anyway.
16. Do you fall asleep with the tv on?
Fuck I don't even watch TV on the TV anymore. I'd get rid of cable if my roommate wasn't so addicted to Bravo.
17. Storms - cool or scary?
Cool, unless you have to go out in them
18. What type was your first car?
princess blue 2003 Camry
Ahh, Huebert, you've yet to let me down baby.
19. Favorite alcoholic drink?
Oh man I have so much more knowledge now than I had in 2003. This is probably just weird nostalgia and my then relatively virgin palette talking, but I still think the cosmos I had at my mom's friend's daughter's weddings when I was 18 were the best thing ever.
20. Do you eat the stems of broccoli?
On the rare occasion I eat broccoli, yeah, I guess I eat all of it
21. If you could have any job what would it be?
fuck I don't even know, but I'll have a PhD when I do it.
22. If you could have any color hair, what would it be?
Mannnnn I still want red hair. But at this point I've accepted a) I'd look awful with it because my skin isn't right and b) having rich brown hair and grey eyes isn't such a bad consolation prize
23. Favorite movie?
Pirates of the Carribean, Ocean's 11, Breakfast at Tiffany's (whoda thunk Id like it?), Gladiator, Back to the Future 1
^I respect my earlier choices, though I'm not sure if BaT, PotC or maybe even Ocean's 11 held up for me. I really like Inglorious Basterds and Love Actually.
24. Do you type with your fingers on the right key?
Yes. Thank you Mags keyboarding, which I evidently took after the original survey.
25. What's under your bed?
Suitcases, clothes I don't wear but am too lazy to sort out, probably old make up
26. What is your favorite number?
eleven, 11, once
^self-agreement. I like doubles in general
27. Favorite sport to watch?
Stilllllll hate watching sports, though I tend to find hockey oddly compelling
28. What is your single biggest fear?
failure I reckon. And needles.
29. Favorite cd?
It isn't even my place to say this anymore. Depends on the day.
30. Favorite tv shows?
shows? no, no, no....'tis only one..........Early Edition.......
^I love my old answer. And I still miss this show. But I didn't watch much TV in my younger years and now that's all I do, so the list is ridiculous
31. Ketchup or mustard?
mustard is a MAYBE, but not a must
32. Hamburgers or hot-dogs?
black bean burgers are pretty delish
33. Favorite soft drink
I don't like pop unless there's booze in it, in which case it doesn't matter so much what it is because alcohol.
34. Best place you have ever been?
Fuck. I've been places now! I like travelling in general, but I sort of feel like the appropriate and correct answer to this is "Chicago."
35. What screen saver is on your computer right now?
I don't have a screen saver, but my wallpaper is this:
It's funny, you see, because it just looks like a pretty flower until you realise it says "fuck off."
I love the internet.
36. What is your favorite animal?
God I just love dogs so fucking much. And goats. Love goats.
37. What do you want to be when you grow up?
not destitute.
38. Car you drive now?
Holy shit I couldn't drive when I filled this out. Anyway, please see #3
18. Before it's too late
Full prompt: Describe 5 things you want to see or do before it’s too late.
Tricia reminded me that this blog is a thing that exists, and then I drank margaritas, and it's only 21:15 so I can't go to bed, so I figured, why the fuck not? I'll go back to reading 1Q84 later, which, by the way, is fucking amazing so far. I never realised how grateful I'd be for AP Spanish instilling a love of Magical Realism in me. I actually had a very angry rant in its defense not too long ago, which I quickly realised was pointless as the person I was arguing with a) didn't care and b) doesn't even read books. Who doesn't read books? Terrible people, that's who.
1. I guess this is vague, but I want to go back to Europe. Not too particular on where. But I want to go:
a. armed with the general knowledge of the cities I acquired during my 2010 trips
b. while I'm still young enough to drink and galavant
c. not necessarily for work
Travelling abroad isn't such a rare thing in the sciences- we like to host big, serious conferences in places like Switzerland and France and also smaller, slightly less serious ones in places like the Caribbean and what have you. Seeing as I've more or less accepted the fact that I'm a city girl through and through, I'm more partial to the former vs. the latter, though I wouldn't say I'd turn down a trip to the Bahamas, particularly if the department was going to comp it. The crucial thing is really just that I want to go back while I'm still relatively young and have a sense of adventure; I don't want to save all my travelling for retirement age.
2. Road trip. I believe this came up before, but I'd love to go on a proper cross-country roadtip. This desire has been particularly strengthened by my recent devotion to Supernatural. I'm not going to do it in a 1960's era Impala (the gas mileage! honestly.) but I'd still like to see the weird, quirky things my own country has to offer. Besides, I haven't been west of Oak Park since I was maybe 10 or 11, and there are some beautiful vistas out west. Or so I hear. Teddy Roosevelt was into them, and if Teddy liked something, it must be damn fine.
3. Write a book. Seriously, I've been vaguely working on one for forever now. I don't expect it to be any good or get published or anything, but I just want to finish one bloody thing I start when it comes to writing. I can't even remember this blog for ten month periods of time, so I'm not sure how likely any of that is.
4. Become a proper doctor (as in, PhD, not those flashcard-memorising, artery-severing, ego-inflated MD fools). I mean, this is a given. But seriously I want to be a doctor. So people call me doctor. But realistically, I'm not ready for it yet, seeing as I haven't really got the "post-PhD"goal in mind.
5. The aurora borealis. Pictures of it are so pretty, but you never see it this far south. Once, many years ago (holy shit, seriously over a decade) all the lights went out, a la Revolution. Okay, more like Eastlake, OH overloaded some crucial circuit breaker or something for the entire northeastern chunk of the United States, but same concept. For one glorious day and night, we were without power. So close to 9/11, many people assumed the worst, but it was just standard inefficiency and error. That night, I went to my neighbour's house- barely able to see the road there- and we had a bonfire. The adults did whatever it was adults with kids do (I assume drink copiously and talk about mortgages) while we set tree branches on fire. And the stars. They filled the sky. I used to want to be an astronomer (before I learned that calculus is really hard, like seriously you guys, it's rough.) and so I knew a lot of constellations and what have you. That night, the sky was so full, I could barely discern the constellations I knew. I think I only really managed to pick out the Big Dipper. Only it wasn't just the Big Dipper- you could see all of Ursa Major. Hell, you could actually see the Milky Way. Sometimes on Reddit, people post pictures of things like that, and I remember that night, and I want to experience it again. It was so pretty and peaceful and calm.
Okay so that's about it. My drunk is wearing off and I can't resist the call of this Murakami book any longer. Particularly because the sooner I finish it, the sooner I no longer have to lug a 1000-page tome around with me on the train. Until next time, which realistically will be like 2014.
Tricia reminded me that this blog is a thing that exists, and then I drank margaritas, and it's only 21:15 so I can't go to bed, so I figured, why the fuck not? I'll go back to reading 1Q84 later, which, by the way, is fucking amazing so far. I never realised how grateful I'd be for AP Spanish instilling a love of Magical Realism in me. I actually had a very angry rant in its defense not too long ago, which I quickly realised was pointless as the person I was arguing with a) didn't care and b) doesn't even read books. Who doesn't read books? Terrible people, that's who.
1. I guess this is vague, but I want to go back to Europe. Not too particular on where. But I want to go:
a. armed with the general knowledge of the cities I acquired during my 2010 trips
b. while I'm still young enough to drink and galavant
c. not necessarily for work
Travelling abroad isn't such a rare thing in the sciences- we like to host big, serious conferences in places like Switzerland and France and also smaller, slightly less serious ones in places like the Caribbean and what have you. Seeing as I've more or less accepted the fact that I'm a city girl through and through, I'm more partial to the former vs. the latter, though I wouldn't say I'd turn down a trip to the Bahamas, particularly if the department was going to comp it. The crucial thing is really just that I want to go back while I'm still relatively young and have a sense of adventure; I don't want to save all my travelling for retirement age.
2. Road trip. I believe this came up before, but I'd love to go on a proper cross-country roadtip. This desire has been particularly strengthened by my recent devotion to Supernatural. I'm not going to do it in a 1960's era Impala (the gas mileage! honestly.) but I'd still like to see the weird, quirky things my own country has to offer. Besides, I haven't been west of Oak Park since I was maybe 10 or 11, and there are some beautiful vistas out west. Or so I hear. Teddy Roosevelt was into them, and if Teddy liked something, it must be damn fine.
3. Write a book. Seriously, I've been vaguely working on one for forever now. I don't expect it to be any good or get published or anything, but I just want to finish one bloody thing I start when it comes to writing. I can't even remember this blog for ten month periods of time, so I'm not sure how likely any of that is.
4. Become a proper doctor (as in, PhD, not those flashcard-memorising, artery-severing, ego-inflated MD fools). I mean, this is a given. But seriously I want to be a doctor. So people call me doctor. But realistically, I'm not ready for it yet, seeing as I haven't really got the "post-PhD"goal in mind.
5. The aurora borealis. Pictures of it are so pretty, but you never see it this far south. Once, many years ago (holy shit, seriously over a decade) all the lights went out, a la Revolution. Okay, more like Eastlake, OH overloaded some crucial circuit breaker or something for the entire northeastern chunk of the United States, but same concept. For one glorious day and night, we were without power. So close to 9/11, many people assumed the worst, but it was just standard inefficiency and error. That night, I went to my neighbour's house- barely able to see the road there- and we had a bonfire. The adults did whatever it was adults with kids do (I assume drink copiously and talk about mortgages) while we set tree branches on fire. And the stars. They filled the sky. I used to want to be an astronomer (before I learned that calculus is really hard, like seriously you guys, it's rough.) and so I knew a lot of constellations and what have you. That night, the sky was so full, I could barely discern the constellations I knew. I think I only really managed to pick out the Big Dipper. Only it wasn't just the Big Dipper- you could see all of Ursa Major. Hell, you could actually see the Milky Way. Sometimes on Reddit, people post pictures of things like that, and I remember that night, and I want to experience it again. It was so pretty and peaceful and calm.
Okay so that's about it. My drunk is wearing off and I can't resist the call of this Murakami book any longer. Particularly because the sooner I finish it, the sooner I no longer have to lug a 1000-page tome around with me on the train. Until next time, which realistically will be like 2014.
Friday, May 25, 2012
An Open Letter to a Different Set of Neighbours That I Still Wish I Was Ballsy Enough to Send
First off, I'd like to open that, while my previous letter obviously never reached the eyes of my neighbours in 3S, one of them did come forth to ask about what irritation the dog in question posed, and to proffer a standing invitation to inform upon it to them, should it once again cross my ear canal in a vexing manner. The whole issue in question stands to be resolved completely by the purchase of a barking collar. I'd like to believe that, through some unknown power of my words, the neighbours heard my pleas and lamentations, and thus took action to right the situation. Furthermore, I hope the same uncommon powers are to be found in this non-correspondance, before I am regrettably inclined to set one of the units in my building on fire, which would be obviously regretful, as the units are connected.
Dearest residents of 61 3S- I hate you. This may seem presumptuous, as we've never had the (I'm sure) pleasure of being introduced, but let me assure you that the tiny glimpses into your life I have made as your across-the-courtyard neighbours make me quite sure that I loathe you with every exhausted fibre of my being. I see you across the yard- your sparse walls, the shoddy IKEA desk shoved awkwardly beneath your alcove window, your $4 plastic lawn chairs on your porch, the nigh empty kitchen with naught but a card table. Part of my loathing comes from my familiarity with your situation- it's been less than two years since I graduated (albeit barely) undergrad, where I was intimately at home in such surroundings. I understand being poor- having recently completed my masters, and with the prospect of PhD school ahead, along with my day-to-day life as a minimum-waged barista, I know that life isn't funded by trust funds and lottery tickets for everyone. I don't need the works of the late Thomas Kinkade gracing your plaster walls.
What I do need is some goddamned quiet.
I'm not sure if you've noticed the time. Surely you haven't, for you and your friends are no doubt caught up in glorious revelry. Allow me to inform you that it is 1:16 am, Central Standard Time. Furthermore, it is a Thursday. I'm aware it is also a holiday weekend, but the holiday in question falls on a Monday.
Now, as college students, I'm sure it's easy to forget that many people in the world have 9-5 jobs, slaving away in cubicles and questioning every life choice that led them dread waking up in the morning to trudge on with their miserable existence. Don't worry, given the current job market, you're never likely to actually suffer that fate. Odds are your fate will be more similar to my own, in which you have irregular hours every week, which add up to something just shy of 35 so that you cannot receive proper benefits or a salary wage. Did I mention that your hourly wage will be in the single digits? Oh, sure, if you're lucky there might be some decimals involved, but you're definitely looking down the barrel of a gun that holds no bullet but the knowledge that your work is meaningless and that you could easily be replaced by a well-trained labradoodle or a semi-trained chimpanzee. It comforts me that you'll suffer so, because hopefully you will also have to suffer as I do now- being kept awake by an undistinguishable bass line and the hollers of drunken buffoons.
I get that drinking to excess is fun. Hell, I plan on doing so myself tomorrow. Oh, have I told you about tomorrow yet? You see, I get to, after five months of absence, reunite with my friends and colleagues from my home state. They are a lovely bunch of people, I assure you, and not so long ago we were just like you. With the distinct difference being that we lived in a college town, surrounded by other college people, who were likewise very into the whole "drinking" and "not doing anything else" thing. Though our behaviour was no doubt questionable in its own right, it had the merit of being conducted in a contained environment. I'm not sure if you're aware, but there is no college campus nearby. I'm sorry, but the local community college doesn't count. If you're looking for campus life, you'll note that we're very near the CTA Red Line, and that a short trip in either direction will take you to either DePaul University (it's off the Fullerton stop, there's a big stadium, you can't miss it) or Loyola University (It's off the imaginatively named "Loyola" stop.) Both Rogers' and Lincoln Park are appropriately accommodated for such riotous celebrations.
Uptown is not like the Parks I have just mentioned. Uptown is properly equipped for serving two specific groups of people: mid- to late- twentysomethings, just beginning their life in the big city, looking for a quiet and affordable place to start a life for themselves; and terrifying thugs looking to deal drugs and shoot their rivals. I confess these two demographics may seem somewhat at odds, but both would likely agree that a bunch of college-ages white kids listening to music that seems to be comprised entirely of the same bass line for three hours interspersed with drunk yelling is the most unsavoury and unwelcome addition to the neighbourhood.
Back to the thing about my tomorrow: I'm going "home." Not to my true home, which will always be here, despite the fact that you are destroying my happiness right now, but to the home in which I was raised (at least partially) in the suburbs of lovely Cleveland Ohio. And boy, do I have a full day ahead of me! I have to get to the airport by six, get picked up at 10EST, take my father to physical therapy, get my hair cut, and then meet my own friends for responsible, over-aged drinking. You'll not there's not a lot of down time pencilled in. Additionally, I worked the closing shift at the aforementioned craptastic job tonight, meaning I did not get home until nearly 11pm CST, when your party was already in full swing. Also, an 8 am flight means being at Midway by 6 am, which means being on the train absolutely no later than about 4:45. That is three hours and ten minutes from now, by the way.
I'm not calling 311 for several reasons. First, I suspect there is underaged drinking occurring at this soiree, and while I'm a curmudgeonly old woman at 24, I'm not completely heartless. Furthermore, I'm not actually sure if a noise ordinance would even be served, as technically you're on private property and the noise ordinance laws aren't completely clear on that front what happens. Finally, I'm convinced Chicago's finest have better things to do than yell at some stupid kids with their stupid party. For example, they could be getting those drug dealers and murderers previously alluded to.
The moral of the story here is that you should probably take the time to realise you live in a neighbourhood with real adults with real responsibilities, and you have to be respectful of that. If I moved back onto 16th in Columbus, I'd have nothing to complain about. That's a college campus- drinking and partying are expected there. No one could begrudge such behaviour, even on a weeknight. But here in the city, nowhere near a school, people have to trudge out of bed and go to work all day tomorrow. While you're sleeping off your hangover while the sun blazes down on you, they'll be squinting at a computer with their third cup of coffee. Spend just like, thirty seconds thinking about someone besides yourself, and abide by the platinum rule, which is: enjoy yourself, but don't be an asshole.
Dearest residents of 61 3S- I hate you. This may seem presumptuous, as we've never had the (I'm sure) pleasure of being introduced, but let me assure you that the tiny glimpses into your life I have made as your across-the-courtyard neighbours make me quite sure that I loathe you with every exhausted fibre of my being. I see you across the yard- your sparse walls, the shoddy IKEA desk shoved awkwardly beneath your alcove window, your $4 plastic lawn chairs on your porch, the nigh empty kitchen with naught but a card table. Part of my loathing comes from my familiarity with your situation- it's been less than two years since I graduated (albeit barely) undergrad, where I was intimately at home in such surroundings. I understand being poor- having recently completed my masters, and with the prospect of PhD school ahead, along with my day-to-day life as a minimum-waged barista, I know that life isn't funded by trust funds and lottery tickets for everyone. I don't need the works of the late Thomas Kinkade gracing your plaster walls.
What I do need is some goddamned quiet.
I'm not sure if you've noticed the time. Surely you haven't, for you and your friends are no doubt caught up in glorious revelry. Allow me to inform you that it is 1:16 am, Central Standard Time. Furthermore, it is a Thursday. I'm aware it is also a holiday weekend, but the holiday in question falls on a Monday.
Now, as college students, I'm sure it's easy to forget that many people in the world have 9-5 jobs, slaving away in cubicles and questioning every life choice that led them dread waking up in the morning to trudge on with their miserable existence. Don't worry, given the current job market, you're never likely to actually suffer that fate. Odds are your fate will be more similar to my own, in which you have irregular hours every week, which add up to something just shy of 35 so that you cannot receive proper benefits or a salary wage. Did I mention that your hourly wage will be in the single digits? Oh, sure, if you're lucky there might be some decimals involved, but you're definitely looking down the barrel of a gun that holds no bullet but the knowledge that your work is meaningless and that you could easily be replaced by a well-trained labradoodle or a semi-trained chimpanzee. It comforts me that you'll suffer so, because hopefully you will also have to suffer as I do now- being kept awake by an undistinguishable bass line and the hollers of drunken buffoons.
I get that drinking to excess is fun. Hell, I plan on doing so myself tomorrow. Oh, have I told you about tomorrow yet? You see, I get to, after five months of absence, reunite with my friends and colleagues from my home state. They are a lovely bunch of people, I assure you, and not so long ago we were just like you. With the distinct difference being that we lived in a college town, surrounded by other college people, who were likewise very into the whole "drinking" and "not doing anything else" thing. Though our behaviour was no doubt questionable in its own right, it had the merit of being conducted in a contained environment. I'm not sure if you're aware, but there is no college campus nearby. I'm sorry, but the local community college doesn't count. If you're looking for campus life, you'll note that we're very near the CTA Red Line, and that a short trip in either direction will take you to either DePaul University (it's off the Fullerton stop, there's a big stadium, you can't miss it) or Loyola University (It's off the imaginatively named "Loyola" stop.) Both Rogers' and Lincoln Park are appropriately accommodated for such riotous celebrations.
Uptown is not like the Parks I have just mentioned. Uptown is properly equipped for serving two specific groups of people: mid- to late- twentysomethings, just beginning their life in the big city, looking for a quiet and affordable place to start a life for themselves; and terrifying thugs looking to deal drugs and shoot their rivals. I confess these two demographics may seem somewhat at odds, but both would likely agree that a bunch of college-ages white kids listening to music that seems to be comprised entirely of the same bass line for three hours interspersed with drunk yelling is the most unsavoury and unwelcome addition to the neighbourhood.
Back to the thing about my tomorrow: I'm going "home." Not to my true home, which will always be here, despite the fact that you are destroying my happiness right now, but to the home in which I was raised (at least partially) in the suburbs of lovely Cleveland Ohio. And boy, do I have a full day ahead of me! I have to get to the airport by six, get picked up at 10EST, take my father to physical therapy, get my hair cut, and then meet my own friends for responsible, over-aged drinking. You'll not there's not a lot of down time pencilled in. Additionally, I worked the closing shift at the aforementioned craptastic job tonight, meaning I did not get home until nearly 11pm CST, when your party was already in full swing. Also, an 8 am flight means being at Midway by 6 am, which means being on the train absolutely no later than about 4:45. That is three hours and ten minutes from now, by the way.
I'm not calling 311 for several reasons. First, I suspect there is underaged drinking occurring at this soiree, and while I'm a curmudgeonly old woman at 24, I'm not completely heartless. Furthermore, I'm not actually sure if a noise ordinance would even be served, as technically you're on private property and the noise ordinance laws aren't completely clear on that front what happens. Finally, I'm convinced Chicago's finest have better things to do than yell at some stupid kids with their stupid party. For example, they could be getting those drug dealers and murderers previously alluded to.
The moral of the story here is that you should probably take the time to realise you live in a neighbourhood with real adults with real responsibilities, and you have to be respectful of that. If I moved back onto 16th in Columbus, I'd have nothing to complain about. That's a college campus- drinking and partying are expected there. No one could begrudge such behaviour, even on a weeknight. But here in the city, nowhere near a school, people have to trudge out of bed and go to work all day tomorrow. While you're sleeping off your hangover while the sun blazes down on you, they'll be squinting at a computer with their third cup of coffee. Spend just like, thirty seconds thinking about someone besides yourself, and abide by the platinum rule, which is: enjoy yourself, but don't be an asshole.
Monday, April 30, 2012
17. Earworms
Full prompt: What song was stuck in your head recently, and what were you doing at the time that made you think of it?
I have different songs stuck in my head all the time. In the past two weeks I've had Rocket Man in there a lot. I know the first time recently it got stuck in there was two weeks ago at my Tuesday morning (6am) bootcamp. We were doing sprints up the hill that overlooks the lake (the hill is sandy and it is not fun) and suddenly the song burst into my head. I then proceeded to spend all day at work singing it. Because work is terrible and we need tiny bursts of joy at times, and Elton John brings that joy.
Also yesterday I know I had Seven Devils in my head. Because Game of Thrones, obviously. Every Sunday that song gets in my head in anticipation of the week's episode. Plus that song is awesome and makes me want to go to war and fuck some shit up. There's a Game of Thrones/ Song of Ice and Fire display up at work that I pass by every time I sign in. And every time I pass it (which is at least 4 times a day) I get the intro theme song from Game of Thrones in my head. I think it and Dexter's are my favourite ever.
I suddenly realise these songs have as much in common as my love of both Game of Thrones and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Which, by the way, the season finale of the latter was last weekend, and it was FANTASTIC. Seriously, watch that shit. Also, yes, I still do recaps/reviews of GoT. So many links.
In more mundane news, I finally got new tennis shoes, which I needed at least a year ago. I guess you are supposed to need new shoes every 300-400 miles. Seeing as (for a while at least) I was running 3-5 miles a day, and that it would thus take only 100 days to need replacements, I probably actually needed them replaced by late fall of 2010. Anyway, I have a new pair now, which no doubt I will run in until they also lack cushioning and treads and also fabric covering my toes... Also I got an outfit for the various weddings I have to attend. I saved like $100 on a dress from Express, which I am pretty excited about. So, hurrah for shopping?
I work a lot this week. It's like revenge on my long weekend break. Of course, I squandered most of Saturday by being incredibly hungover, because I'm a classy broad.
Shit I forgot my life is boring.
I have different songs stuck in my head all the time. In the past two weeks I've had Rocket Man in there a lot. I know the first time recently it got stuck in there was two weeks ago at my Tuesday morning (6am) bootcamp. We were doing sprints up the hill that overlooks the lake (the hill is sandy and it is not fun) and suddenly the song burst into my head. I then proceeded to spend all day at work singing it. Because work is terrible and we need tiny bursts of joy at times, and Elton John brings that joy.
Also yesterday I know I had Seven Devils in my head. Because Game of Thrones, obviously. Every Sunday that song gets in my head in anticipation of the week's episode. Plus that song is awesome and makes me want to go to war and fuck some shit up. There's a Game of Thrones/ Song of Ice and Fire display up at work that I pass by every time I sign in. And every time I pass it (which is at least 4 times a day) I get the intro theme song from Game of Thrones in my head. I think it and Dexter's are my favourite ever.
I suddenly realise these songs have as much in common as my love of both Game of Thrones and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Which, by the way, the season finale of the latter was last weekend, and it was FANTASTIC. Seriously, watch that shit. Also, yes, I still do recaps/reviews of GoT. So many links.
In more mundane news, I finally got new tennis shoes, which I needed at least a year ago. I guess you are supposed to need new shoes every 300-400 miles. Seeing as (for a while at least) I was running 3-5 miles a day, and that it would thus take only 100 days to need replacements, I probably actually needed them replaced by late fall of 2010. Anyway, I have a new pair now, which no doubt I will run in until they also lack cushioning and treads and also fabric covering my toes... Also I got an outfit for the various weddings I have to attend. I saved like $100 on a dress from Express, which I am pretty excited about. So, hurrah for shopping?
I work a lot this week. It's like revenge on my long weekend break. Of course, I squandered most of Saturday by being incredibly hungover, because I'm a classy broad.
Shit I forgot my life is boring.