robot in love
Tuesday, December 17, 2002 @ 10:13 p.m.
"Are you a doctor?" Milo asked, trying to feel as well as possible.
"I am KAKOPHONOUS A. DISCHORD, DOCTOR OF DISSONANCE," roared the man, and as he spoke, several small explosions and a grinding crash were heard.
"What does the A. stand for?" stammered the nervous bug, too frightened to move.
"AS LOUD AS POSSIBLE," bellowed the doctor.
-The Phantom Tollbooth
I have little cuts in my fingers, which I get from jewellery wire. Examining my fingertips with a magnifying glass one would think I am a very meticulous masochist.
I've just finished getting a Scrabble-style ass whooping, having been defeated by my entire family. Although, to be fair, my sister was getting help from both my parents. Legitimately I should have at least beaten her. I'm not much good at Scrabble, but if you're at all familiar with the lives of Scrabble champions, that's probably a good thing. They are unattached, and broke, and they live with their parents. I'm not kidding.
her hips, her hips
are like seashells
i can hear the ocean
when i listen
-onelinedrawing (Chris! I love your tape more each time I listen to it!)
How do you think we are going to make the future?
"you're not Drusilla. She was crazier than you." -Spike
Tuesday, December 17, 2002 @ 07:28 a.m.
Good morning. I feel like shit, having slept for three hours, but I'm up anyway. I'm going to have a killer headache by about 11, too.
It's less than one week until my 20th birthday, and it rained last night. Rain in mid-December. Does this seem normal to anyone else? No? It seems to me this might be an indication it's time to stop wrecking the ozone layer. Sure, it seems nice now, but what if we never had snow for Christmas again? That would be terrible! Plus, Edmontonians would have nothing to base their cultural identity on.
Yesterday was a nothing day, or as Anya would say, "Nothing. Nothing. Cole's Notes to Nothing. Nothing Abridged."
Being alive makes me tired, today. I wish I had some hot chocolate, and a bag of jelly beans.
I changed the background because someone was bitching about it in the guestbook. Then I felt guilty because when other people, like James, bitch about it, I just tell them to suck it up. I should be kinder to my friends, and less kind to strangers.
feeling close to finding
Sunday, December 15, 2002 @ 04:23 p.m.
If you have an unfulfilled wish for art, check out twenty things' benefit auction at 20things.org. Proceeds benefit 10 charities. Some of these pieces are pretty cool, plus, good cause!
I have cable TV now. As my dad put it, this means we have "10 cooking channels, 6 weather channels, and 12 golf channels." And the Simpsons in dazzling colour!
Sunday, December 15, 2002 @ 10:05 a.m.
She would merengue, and do the cha cha
Friday, December 13, 2002 @ 10:50 a.m.
I kick so much ass, if I kicked any more ass I would be kicking my own ass.
(That means exams are finished.)
Thursday, December 12, 2002 @ 07:38 p.m.
This is what I would look like as a Lego minifig.
This is what I look like when I am in Scotland and I am almost asleep on James's arm and I haven't slept for four days.
Someone asked, in my guestbook. To see if I match up. I hope this helps get everything sorted, although to be honest, I don't care.
I love the word "sorted." I feel so smart and British when I say it.
Anyway, now it will be moderately easier to stalk me, although only moderately easier. I should warn you that I am 5'11" tall and if you try to attack me I will just kick your ass. And afterward I will shout, "Now I've got you sorted!"
How the hell did it get to be Thursday?
Thursday, December 12, 2002 @ 09:40 a.m.
My advice for anyone else out there who might be writing exams is this: accuse theories, people or movements of being "Post-Fordist." No one will argue with you. Everything is post-fordist.*
*Except Henry Ford and the Industrial Revolution
all these blessings, all these burns
Monday, December 9, 2002 @ 11:10 a.m.
When my grandmother died she left us all her sewing stuff-- not in an organized bequeathing way, we just ended up with it, stuff no one else wanted. Last week I sorted through a bunch of shoeboxes of old stuff. It was kind of creepy, actually: clasps, buttons in bags, whole packages of needles in ancient packages, brand-new velcro which was so old the adhesive backing crumbled between my fingers.
It's weird: the way people drop off the planet, out of our lives, die or go away, and we miss them but eventually we forget. We can't help it. We're forgetting machines.
I don't think about her very often any more, and maybe I should because she is part of where I come from. But I can't help it. These people are likes features from an older version of my OS which have become obsolete. When you try to use them all you get are error messages.
"A life of abundance had turned her two boys into an element other than gold-- lead? silicon? bismuth? But then Sarah-- Sarah was an element finer than gold-- carbon crystallized as diamond-- a bolt of lightning frozen in midflash, sliced into strips, and stored in a vault."
-Douglas Coupland, All Families Are Psychotic
We went to see signs at the cheap theatres. It was better than I expected, but there was one scene in particular I keep thinking of: Mel Gibson comes home to find his two kids, plus Joaquin Phoenix (who plays his brother in the movie), wearing pointy tin foil hats to protect them from alien mind-reading. Perhaps that amuses me more than it should, but it's just because Joaquin Phoenix is so cute.
I'm going to start studying for finals soon. An-y min-ute.
Girl you ain't the only one with a baby! And that's no excuse to be living all crazy!
Sunday, December 8, 2002 @ 07:15 p.m.
I make fantastic crafts out of airy nothing. I am like a goddess of thriftiness, sleeping, and bad taste in music.
Bonjour, little people!
Thursday, December 5, 2002 @ 11:03 p.m.
Just a note to let you know about a helpful thing: if you're like me (as unlikely as that seems), and you want to make a link on your website for your email but you fear the evil email-address-harvesting SPAM-robots, help is here. Hivelogic has an address encoder that converts your normal mailto: tag into complicated-looking JAVA. (What can I say, I'm not a programmer.)
It's neat I tell you, neat. I shall not dream of the evil SPAM-bots tonight.
[in Comic Book Guy voice:] "Funniest. Joke. EVER."
Thursday, December 5, 2002 @ 08:58 p.m.
I've done a little research, and I think I've found the country with the funniest name-jokes: Panama. I just finished writing a paper a little while ago about American foreign policy's impact on Panama, and I used the word "Panamanian" as many times as I possibly could in my essay. Say it out loud: "Panamanian." Freeing, isn't it?
Other jokes my father and I came up with:
What kind of dog with Noriega have-- a Panamanian pomeranian?
Once the US stopped giving Panama aid in 1988, were there a lot more PANAMANIAN PANHANDLERS?
During Operation Just Cause in 1989, the US Military invasion of Panama, was there chaos-- ie., Panamanian pandemonium?
I think you get the idea. If you come up with any really good ones, feel free to drop me a line.
more quotes from the end of the semester
Wednesday, December 4, 2002 @ 03:14 p.m.
"500 years ago, if I asked you, 'Why dost thou not kill?' you'd all be like, 'eternal damnation, baby!'"
-My PoliSci prof, on how religion used to provide moral guidance
How do you like my new colour scheme? I got my colours done, and it turns out I'm not an autumn, I'm a bistro!
Actually, let's face it, I don't really care what anyone else thinks, I am going to keep it. All my previous website-y colours have been ugly, and I have heeded no one's opinion but my own! Because I am a roving pirate queen! Arrr!
"Red hair and black leather, my favourite colour scheme..."
you're so pretty,/and you're on your knees...
Wednesday, December 4, 2002 @ 09:47 a.m.
I woke up with a nosebleed and bad dreams, but I feel somewhat better now.
Today is the last day of the semester proper. Then I have exams until Friday a week and a half from now, and then I have... nothing. ("It's not just about my dream of doing nothing. It's about all of us doing nothing together!") Sometimes the activity-less void is intimidating, and other times, it's a relief. I have an almost bottomless capacity for sleep and slouching around doing nothing. It makes me very content. But on the other hand, my lack of ambition or direction makes me ill-fitted to this part of the world. I should be working on oil rigs or something, or that's the implication.
Oh: We're finally getting cable TV. I anticipate finally being able to watch The Simpsons whenever I want.
You can dream of the future, but no dream or expectation can fully prepare you.
My mom and I went to IKEA on Sunday.
Tuesday, December 3, 2002 @ 10:16 a.m.
My dad: "How did your trip to IKEA go?"
My mom: "It was a precision strike!"
Me: "There were no civilian casualties!"
My mom: "And we found everything we were looking for!"
stars still fall in alabama
Monday, December 2, 2002 @ 02:32 p.m.
What a weird day. It was snowing when I woke up and it's snowing still. On days like this I begin to entertain fantasies of staying inside forever-- breathing recycled air, listening to easy-listening-ified Frank Sinatra songs and consuming nothing but coffee and Skittles. There's a great movie about life indoors, waydowntown, set in Calgary, our fair sister city to the South. But since it's a Canadian independent movie good luck finding it anywhere else. (Disregard the IMDB reviewer who called it "so far upstream it could mate with a salmon." Also, for reasons only the internet movie database knows, Breakfast at Tiffany's is recommended for Waydowntown fans-- weird.) It's like Office Space on crack. Everyone likes Office Space, and everyone likes crack, so... you know what I'm saying.
The semester is almost over. I will celebrate with libations, TV-watching and rampant first-world-style consumption.
Happy season of giving, blah blah blah.
Meghan and I went to see Sarah Slean and Nathan Wylie at the Plant on Saturday and they were pretty great. I also went to Theatresports and it was funny and I had weird dreams and woke up with a sore neck and I almost wrote "kneck" and I'm writing two papers and I'm much too busy to use punctuation.
now for the tricky part
Saturday, November 30, 2002 @ 09:26 a.m.
"Besides getting several paper cuts in the same day or receiving news that someone in your family has betrayed you to your enemies, one of the most unpleasant experiences in life is a job interview. ...I once had a very difficult job interview in which I had not only to explain that I could hit an olive with a bow and arrow, memorize up to three pages of poetry, and determine if there was poison mixed into a cheese fondue without tasting it, but I had to demonstrate all these things as well." -The Carnivorous Carnival
Sometimes I really don't understand how other people could have such a stupid, shallow understanding of the world they live in, and I want to slap them around. But I don't because I know it would be rude-- and probably useless.