There's No Place Like Home

Emily and I got pedicures today. I really needed it -- Tuesday, I decided to walk half the way home without shoes.

I chose this color because, DUDE, it's the Ruby Red Slippers. It's actually called Ruby Pumps, but I was so excited -- you can ask Emily. I squee'd all over the place. I don't know how I can not get this color next time I go, too. Also, if you look closely to the foot in the background, you'll see the nasty bruise across my big toe that happened from the pumps that I wore all day on Tuesday. I'm so dumb sometimes.

"If you really want, tonight I'll be Jack White for you"

The Raconteurs concert last night was AMAZING.

They opened with Intimate Secretary, and the show was just uphill from there. By the time they played Level, it didn't matter that I didn't have three Guinnesses in me this time, I was dancing, anyway. I actually thought that when they played Store Bought Bones (they had this really long intro that was just...*gushes*), I actually thought I was going to burst. Or die. And that would have been okay.

They came out for an encore, and I can't actually remember the first song they played because I was too busy thinking "PLEASE PLAY STEADY, AS SHE GOES. PLEASE PLAY STEADY, AS SHE GOES. PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE." (you know, because concerts are loud, so I was thinking it really loudly), so they played that next, and I may have actually peed a little bit. I must have looked like a kid on Christmas. I'm genuinely surprised that I didn't lose my voice, and am now wondering what it would take to lose my voice if I didn't last night.

So, if you haven't had a chance to check them out, I suggest you do it now while it's possible they're still touring and will be in your neck of the woods. Because as much as the CD ROCKS my FACE OFF, the live performance went above and beyond my wildest dreams.

Teresa is such a Pimp

Teresa tried to set me up with her friend James last night. The major flaw in this plan is that James lives in Cleveland. And I don't know what he looks like (and Teresa told me he's a little weird. LOL. Thanks, friend).

I just thought I'd document that for the world to see, because it was funny as hell.

Seriously, though -- We would have Mexican/Irish babies. And he's going to be a neurosurgeon (hello, McDreamy?)

Maybe I should move to Cleveland.

All Kinds of Bullshit

Alisa and I are having MORE problems with the landlady.

Alisa says she does understand (I don't). The woman is ninety-six, blah blah blah. You know. She's fucking ancient. And she doesn't like noise. And she's probably blind. And she definitely can't tell the difference between two people and more than two people people, like how she thinks that there are always people "coming and going and coming and going" all the time, when in truth, other than when we have guests over at reasonable hours (or like, the three isolated times we've had overnight guests), there are two of us. Coming. And Going. Once a day. Sometimes on weekends I don't even leave the house. Seriously. I should have bedsores.

I feel a little guilty (emphasis on a little). I mean, this phone call was probably brought on by my extraordinary drunken performance on Tuesday. I was probably VERY LOUD as I tried to get into my apartment and needed help from a co-worker to figure out how to use my keys. I'm sure that I was laughing and maybe even loudly "whispering" that "SHHHH. WE NEED TO BE QUIET BECAUSE MY LANDLADY IS A CRAZY OLD BAT."

However, it doesn't say anywhere in our lease that we can't have guests. And sure, we could be awful people and throw parties and have people over all the time. But because of her (and also because we're not really the loud crazy party animals she acts like we are, anyway) we've felt obligated to limit our guests to reasonable hours. And we're quiet as we can possibly be (Tuesday aside. I feel like Tuesday will fast become the exception to many of my rules). I mean what the hell does she honestly want from us? How could we be better tenants? By not moving or breathing when we're at home? Fuck her. It would be different if this had just happened once. But she's constantly bitching at us about how many people "live here," and last I counted it was two. I know she's nintey-six, but come. on. Get with the program.

I've had a shitty day. The only redeeming thing that happened to me was that I bought the Lemonheads CD on my way home and also picked up the Libertines because I felt like it. So honestly? I hope we are ruining her life. Because right now the unnecessary guilt I'm feeling because she's BATSHIT INSANE is ruining mine.

Like, who the hell has the audacity to call their tenants and ask "how many people" are living there? WHAT? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the bullshit. Can you honestly not tell the difference between us and our friends? Seriously? (My friends come in a wide variety of colors -- we are like a goddamn crayola box. I seriously don't see how she can confuse us and/or think that Alisa and I are multiple people when she's met our friends). We don't give out our keys, even though there's nothing in the lease about that, and let me tell you how much it sucks to have houseguests and have to say, "Yeah, you're going to have to get out at 7:30 or stay locked in the apartment all day. Thanks!"

God, this is all kinds of bullshit. Grey's Anatomy had better be good, because that's the only thing I am looking forward to tonight - and the rest of my life.

I'm Blaming it on the Fact that I'm Still Hung-over

Do you ever get that sinking, "Oh my god, what have I done" feeling?

It's one thing when you're sure about these things (then again, being sure never helped me before), but the uncertainty, and the doubt...and the "oh shit" factor. It's like I enjoy putting myself in situations that can only end in complete and utter embarrassing agony.

Also, ten months is a LONG TIME. Chicago is a LONG WAYS AWAY.

I feel like I need an escape route. Perhaps a tunnel. (Called grad school?)

I'm sorry I'm being so vague. I couldn't be glib about the situation, so I felt like I should be evasive. If the entry is convoluted enough, maybe no one will know what I'm talking about, and by leaving it entirely up to interpretation makes it like a game. Or modern art.

I had Tostitos for breakfast

I woke up in my own bed. Alone (I feel it needs to be said). Still in my halter dress from the night before. When I finally found my purse, it was in the living room sans a box of cloves. My glasses were behind my bed. I tried piecing things together by myself, but all I got was Bar...Booze...mbta? How I got home was a seriously good question, but who took me home was a better one, since I vaguely remembered that, or thought I had vividly dreamed it -- but I distinctly remembered hugging someone. I had to ask around before I got any answers, and none of them answered the biggest question on my mind which was how big a fool I needed to feel today.

But let's rewind a bit. We had a tenth anniversary party at the firm. There was schmoozing, and food, and more importantly, or at least more to the point, there was booze. I'm pretty sure I embarrassed myself, but it was fine until someone in our circle had the phenomenal idea that since we have to buy whatever booze we opened, someone (looks at she who had been pounding drinking the jack and diet cokes all night) should polish off the bottle of Jack Daniels, so the bartender would have to open a new one.

This is unrelated, but I was surprised to find out that a lot of people in the firm are married to other architects. I guess it makes sense, since you spend so much time around it.

Anyway, since the free booze at the office wasn't enough, apparently, we hit a bar afterwards - Red Sky. I do remember a lot of the evening, just not the getting home part. I'm not exactly known for being able to hold my liquor, so I was in fine form. I think Tim described it best when he said, "Briar has been here a month and has hardly said a word to me, and the first time she says anything substantial, it's all 'Bitch, what?'" My friends know it well as the "Briar has no filter, much less when she's been drinking" phenomenon (like the time I stone cold sober wrote "Beirut, What?" in Lesley and Steve's wedding card).

So, everyone at work found out about me and my non existent filter, and also how that little quiet introverted girl who sits in the corner doesn't say anything because, hello, piping hot giant bowl of the crazy. And then I needed to be walked home. The end? Question mark?

Oh Laura, Where Art Thou

Laura is in Iowa, which means I've no outlet for the CRAZY today.

After countless attempts at printing a file from Revit: "I am going to make this floor plan a .PDF, and then it will be my bitch."

While deciding not to go talk to someone in the office: "That's how chickens talk."

To my computer, and the printer, several times (yes, I said it out loud): WHY do you hate me when I show you nothing but LOVE?!

And also, my new supersacrilegious curse, that I won't share here, but said aloud many times today (except when I substituted the second word for something...Still sacrilegious, but...Maybe less so. Well the combination is less bad, but it's still sacrilege. Mmmm...sacrilicious)

And finally, what needs to happen now: I NEED BOOZE. IN MY FACE.

Sam's Town

According to Rolling Stone, The Killers' new album (Sam's Town) isn't as hot as Hot Fuss. I was actually going to buy this one, but I'm glad I read the review -- it won't make me change my mind, but I'm not going to buy it blindly anymore (like I did with Nightcrawler the day it came out. I was that confident in Pete Yorn). I like Hot Fuss as much as the next person, but I like my "weird" versions, as Ben called them once, better. I found some live...or...pre-release versions on Limewire, and I have to say that while they're illicit different, I'm just used to them now. And we know how adverse to change I am, so therefore, I like those versions more. So, I never bought Hot Fuss. The user reviews for Sam's Town are much more flattering, but now I'm just going to have to preview it and see for myself.

I do try my best to buy CDs now, even though sometimes by "preview," I mean "download the whole thing because, seriously...I'll buy it someday. Seriously." Part of it is the guilt of downloading, but the other part of it has been in realizing how I'm missing out on some good music by only downloading one or two songs (plus my time is too valuable to me now to sit there for hours searching for every last song on particular albums).

I suppose next on my list is the Lemonheads new self-titled album. I don't care what kinds of reviews that gets -- I've listened to it straight through a few times, and it will be worth the money. I hope Rolling Stone doesn't crush my Lemonheads dream, too, though. Or I will have to cut someone.

Why?

Why would you want to ruin my life Emma Watson?

Monday Madness - Reader Participation I

From jstar: Holiday in Europe or Asia?

This is one instance where I can't really choose. First of all, going to Europe is so cliche. Everyone does it. Going to Asia is becoming more cliche than it used to be, but only because people are bored of going to Europe.

Here's the thing: it makes me feel SO UNCULTURED when people talk about the amazing architectural wonders of Europe. If I had a few months and unlimited budget (none of this backpacking/hostel business. I'm just too much of a princess. I know that makes me...well, a princess -- I've accepted it. Let's move on) -- I'd hit every place in Europe that I could.

If I had more time, and more money, I'd go to Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka, Moscow, St. Petersburg, Agra, and Bangkok. Then I'd actually research Asia, and find other interesting places to hit. Alas, I probably won't do all the world travel I'd like, but I'm up for almost anything (plus I feel like I haven't fully explored the U.S. yet, although I've been a lot of places in the South and Northeast).

From sherle: How do you try to change a behavior pattern you don't like about yourself... whether it's chewing fingernails, overeating, smoking, or picking your nose?

I don't. I lead an incredibly hedonistic lifestyle.

From tricia: Have you ever successfully completed a Sudoku puzzle?

Um...yes.

Oh. And, seriously?

(I won't even start with the snark...you're welcome)

From caylynn: What website do you visit the most often?

Well, bloglines and del.icio.us. I prefer bloglines, but some of the sites I like to visit don't have RSS feeds, so I have to bookmark them on del.icio.us, of which I'm still not a fan, even though nataliedee and drew are both pimping it.

That was a cheat of an answer, though. I suppose the only websites I check daily (or with alarming frequency) are nataliedee and Penny Arcade. I also visit a softer world a lot, but it's only updated weekly, otherwise I'd probably hit that page more than once a day, too. And anyone with stats on their blogs can attest to the fact that I check those rabidly, too.

From michael morgan: What was your favorite thing about high school or college?

Mostly that it's over. No, I'm not kidding or being sarcastic because I think it's a stupid question. I do miss some things about college. Staying up late and being able to go to the mall on a Wednesday morning when no one else was there. But sometimes being unattached, childless, etc. translates into college life with a paycheck. Plus there are weekends; real weekends where there is no test or p-set in the upcoming week. Sure, there's more responsibility and less vacation, but that's okay. Would I love to have the paycheck, my own apartment and be of age for all of my vices -- minus the responsibilities? Sure. But that's not what college or high school were about, either.

Also, you couldn't pay me enough to do high school over again. Or MIT. I'm just sayin'.

from monday madness.

Scoooooba

I've been seriously considering getting a roomba, lately. I've wanted one for a while (Laura, you might know why...), but I always thought that it would be a ridiculous purchase. However, based on the number of times I've busted out the dustbuster? And the amount of dust covering our floor? It would certainly justify perhaps busting out the sweetping/vacuuming tools more often [than never], but as Sundry said in her recent review of the roomba:

I own a Dustbuster, an upright vacuum, a Swiffer, and a special little broom-and-dustpan combo, and yet none of those objects did what I wanted, which was for them to clean the floor by themselves.

Amen.

But then. THEN...Phil sent me this link.

A SCOOBA?! Must...Have...SCOOOOOOBA.

I mean. Something less crazy.

Is it slightly pathetic? Yes. I'm not exactly too busy to mop the floors once a week or anything. I'm young and spry. I should be doing all that cleaning myself. Blahblahblah.

Maybe I'll ask for one for Christmas.

I prefer the bright floodlights of cynicism

Okay, here goes. If you haven't seen the Last Kiss -- SHAME ON YOU. But if you have, there's something I didn't write earlier because I saw it opening weekend and I thought it would actually be really mean to post this since maybe some people wouldn't have a chance to see it until this weekend.

SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING


So, you know how at the end of the movie, she finally lets Michael into the house? And you're left to imagine...Whatever you want about whether or not they get back together, and how happy they'd be?

Then, the song that they play over the credits is Joshua Radin's Star Mile. It's one of those things that I kept inside at the time. Like...Yeah, sure they'll be happy together. Yeah, I'm not a cynic. Yeah, I believe in "love." You know. Love, and the loch ness monster, and objectivism. And bigfoot.

The truth is, we believe what we need to believe to get on with our lives, or what we need to believe to wake up in the morning. In high school, when everyone thought I was...So hopeful and one of those people who truly believed in love, I was still the same bitter and cynical Briar underneath it all, even though I really did believe...In what, I have no clue, I just believed. And I really thought that if I believed strongly enough, it would be true (I pulled the same thing with Santa, okay? I was a delusional child. I was smart. I'd figured it out. But I sat there and lied to my mom -- to her face -- and told her I'd seen Santa, even though we both knew I was 110% full of shit. I was five, and we both stared at each other for a while, and that was the first time I figured out that my mom didn't really have all the answers, after all). I always believed that love, whatever it was at the time, would get me through all of the crap. LOVE? WHAT? Jesus. What was I thinking? LOVE? If romantic love is an ingredient in the recipe for happiness, then it's just in there for flavor. Love isn't what makes a relationship work, hard work is. I don't mean to take the romance out of it, it's just that at the end of the day, when you take away those really great, butterfly in the stomach feelings, you're left with something else -- something different -- and what you choose to do with that is what can make it real, or special. But there's always going to be temptation, frustration, and external factors beyond your control (like college boyfriend's horrible mother. Wait, did I say that out loud?). You can't rely on this intangible notion of some fairy-tale feeling to get you past all of that, unless you're both equally delusional (and I say this as someone who is very susceptible to delusion. VERY SUSCEPTIBLE).

And that was today's rant brought to you by my future as a bitter spinster. Yesterday, a cat tried to FORCE it's way into my apartment. It's like someone is telling me to just go ahead and embrace it now -- just to save myself years of lying to myself.

*I don't really feel this way. Completely. I feel this way today. Because today I am on a rampage. It's a "Best not get near me if I have a pencil in my hand, or it might find its way into your eye" kind of day.

**Oh, and I'm also just kidding about the shame on you thing. Really. I understand that people besides me actually have lives and don't need to go see Zach Braff's New Movie Right Now all the time.

Joshua Radin - Star Mile

Old doubt and a girl by your side, she's feeding your pride
as you go for a ride down the star mile
world's rise as she lets you come in
a duo begins to the Hollywood din
of the lonely

And all the gold dust in her eyes
won't reform into a ring
You had and lost the one thing
you kept in a safe place
remember the face
the girl who had made you her own
and how you left her alone

All's well at the base of the hill
you might need to fill
a prescription to kill
off the sirens
look down from your tower on high
and take in the night
look her right in the eye
she'll listen

and all the gold dust in her eyes
won't reform into a ring
you had and lost the one thing
you kept in a safe place
remember the face
the girl who had made you her own
and how you left her alone


life comes to those that'll choose
the regular news
over playing the blues with the light on


and if you burn the road that'll lead you
back to her in time
i'll watch you turn to stone
can't find the sublime
she's moving on without you
the tide breaks
you watch the stars fake
they gather you back to their homes
i guess it's better than being alone

Preservation of History

I went to see Rem Koolhaas lecture about the Preservation of History at the GSD tonight.

I always feel addle brained and inarticulate after a lecture. Is that odd? Shouldn't I be brimming with ideas and feel stimulated by the words and ideas that this famous architect just said? Shouldn't I want to have an intellectual discourse with the people who went to the lecture with me, who probably share similar interests and ideas?

Instead, I just sat there, feeling dumb. The only thing I could say after today's lecture was, "well, he didn't sound as full of shit as some of these people do," which was true, but really. Did I need to say that in front of people I just met a month ago?

We parted ways right after the lecture, Scott going to "grab a bite," Eric off to meet a friend, and me...Walking home with a cigarette and my dumb words floating around in my head. Stupid.

Rem wasn't full of shit, though his point was lost on us (it was lost on me, and Eric said it was also lost on him). Evidently, the whole hour of words could be summed up in a few sentences. Something about a guy. An architect. Knowing something about how his architecture wouldn't last forever? Or thinking that it would? Something about tenements?

Seriously -- it was very convoluted, and it did not sum up the rest of the lecture, which was very clear, albeit without that one sentence that sums it all up in the end, it felt like something was missing (although, I suppose he did try).

He talked about the dilapidation of the Reichstag, and about how the most glorious re-births of cities come from the most horrible destruction, because it's only then that we're free to rebuild without the guilt and the oppression and the desire to preserve older buildings. He showed a slide of a doorknob that fell off of a door. What do we do with it now? Hitler probably touched that doorknob. Does that mean it's evil? That it should be destroyed? Or is it a part of history that should be preserved?

The oddest part of the lecture was that it was pretty clear to me the whole time that Rem is all about preservation architecture. But he kept presenting both sides of the coin without very much weight on either - no pros or cons. So I figure he's going to get to that part in the end. He then said that most preservation architecture is totally fake and completely disgusting to him (okay, maybe his words weren't that strong, but that's what I took from them). So...Is he for it or against it? Does he just think it's done wrong? In my mind, he made no compelling arguments either way, except to stress that he could see beauty in the chaos of this dilapidated building. (You're going "What?" Yeah, me too).

I feel like I'm pro-sustainable design. But I'm also incredibly short sighted with that view because by sustainable I'm usually referring to how a new building can be sustainable. I'm just not about preserving buildings that exist and making those more efficient -- if they're ugly and horrible and don't work, anyway - historic or not *cough*sweden. I guess it can work both ways, I just usually lean towards the former.

So this lecture left me with more questions than answers, so I was glad for the long walk home, except for the shoes I was wearing. But I just wish that I could have listened to people discuss this lecture afterwards. Yeah, I know. I'm such a whore when it comes to discussion. I LOVE to listen to people discuss -- the grittier, the more emotional, the better. I just HATE to participate. What? I'm a woman. We're allowed to be complicated. (I'm also very. Very. Shy)

(Nice Dream) --- Not.

I had the most fucked up dream I've had in a while last night.

I was on the beach, with some friends, maybe some family, and some co-workers. We were all laying around, soaking up some sun, having some barbeque -- you know, the usual. This was all very vivid, even though it was no beach I'd ever been to. I fell asleep on my towel, and woke up with the feeling that I had a film in my mouth, you know, the one you get when you eat too much sugar? I excused myself to the restroom to take care of it, and when I got to a mirror, I saw that the film, which was kind of greyish and sticky looking, had covered the corner of my mouth and sort of spread onto the side of my face a bit. "Sick," I thought, "I must have really been going to town with the sleep-drool" (monologue that I could not make up if I tried. My dreams should be major motion pictures, people) I opened my mouth wide, and pulled what I was still guessing was drool off my face. This exposed a gash in between my mouth and cheek. Stuff -- stuff that I can only describe as a pus-like ooze, with bits of neon green -- started pouring out of my face. It just...kept coming, and these little things about the size and shape of hominy started falling out of my cheek, too. I was disgusted and horrified...it was the most vile thing that's ever happened to me in a dream, to be honest. I didn't know what to do first. Vomit? Keep squeezing the God-knows-whats out of my face? Look at it some more? Meanwhile, my face was still gushing. I couldn't tell if it was coming out of me -- like under my cheek -- or just...you know; inside my cheek. Neither option was particularly appealing, and this stuff wasn't slowing down, so I don't know why I was just standing there contemplating it.

By the end of the dream (what I mean by that is by the time my alarm went off), I'd sorted out that they were some weird bug's eggs. Something that was a cross between a centipede and a caterpillar. It had laid eggs inside my cheeck while I was napping.

Gross, right?

Then, after I hit snooze, I sort of tumbled into the middle of another dream, where this boy I'm kind of crushing on said something about his girlfriend. Actually, what he said was that he didn't know why he went out with this totally cute, funny girl last night, because he's been with his girlfriend for two years, and the whole thing felt all weird. Either way, things were not coming up Briar in that situation.

I've never been more happy to be awake and back in my boring old routine.

I Know it's Different, but That's Why P&P Scared Me

When Emily and I went to see the Last Kiss, it opened with Snow Patrol's Chocolate.

I squeezed her arm, "I knew it was coming eventually, but they opened with it -- with a lousy interpretation of the video. The phenomenal video. Emily, I'm going to have to hide under the seat screaming until it's over."

It ended quickly enough, as Zach Braff -- excuse me, "Michael" -- pulled his Prius into a parking space, and we all got on with our days. I doubt anyone actually noticed. [Maybe the people around us did. I wasn't exactly discreet. Perhaps it was because I'm rude. Or perhaps it was the two Jack and Diet Cokes I'd had before the movie. Who knows?]

I only write this now because I'm barely getting over it. It's not that the song has been ruined for me (I just listened to it just now), it's just going to take some time to get past the whole associating it with The Last Kiss thing, and how it just gave me the heebie-jeebies. I mean, they weren't fucking around when they used it prominently in the previews.

[Currently Spinning: Snow Patrol - Days Without Paracetamol]

I Need A Shower

You know that really awesome feeling you get when someone you totally dug in your past finds you on myspace or facebook, or God, remember the days of friendster?

Yeah, that feeling, but the complete opposite -- for that guy that STALKED YOU when you were in middle school, and then spread really horrible rumors about you in high school, and then went off and became some weird devil worshiping something or other and then THANK GOD, disappeared off the face of your planet?

So, someone from my past found me on myspace today, y'all -- and I'll betcha can't guess which variety of someone it was?

But It's Pretty Useless When You're DEAD

Florida man takes 50-foot dive for $20

PALMETTO, Florida (AP) -- Mark Giorgio figured a 50-foot plunge was worth $20. Giorgio, 47, was counting his money and walking across the U.S. 41 bridge over the Manatee River Monday when a $20 bill blew out of his hand and flew over the rail.

He followed. And plummeted 50 feet into the river. Then he swam about 100 yards to fish the bill from the water.

"I got my money back, hell yeah," Giorgio told the Sarasota Herald-Tribune. "Twenty bucks is a lot of money when you're broke."

He was fished from the water by a passing Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission officer.

Giorgio, who said he was already suffering from a broken collarbone, refused treatment for cuts and scrapes he suffered in the fall.

Copyright 2006 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

Find this article at:
http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/09/20/chasingmoney.ap/index.html

I've Already Got A Seat in Hell, Thanks.

I've developed a Really Annoying Subway Habit -- but it was intentional and I totally love it.

I've complained before about how people's newspapers will spill over onto my seat; into my space. Usually it's some snotty paper, like the New York Times( -- which I read. Online. Where it won't sit in other people's laps) or the FT (and I do admit I'm intrigued by the pink paper, but I digress). My mom actually suggested that next time it happens, I lean a little so that it's Very Obvious that I'm reading their paper. I tried it, and so far, it's worked every time.

The awesomeness is twofold. First, it REALLY annoys the crap out of whoever you're doing it to. Trust me. There's nothing I hate more than some bitch who should be reading her copy of The Economist that is sitting right there in her lap instead of STARING at my crossword-puzzle-doing (look, ho, it's not my fault you picked up the most boring publication in the world this morning. Stop watching me do the crossword (OHMYGODSTOPSTARINGATME)). And it bugs people. Every. Time.

Their reaction is usually pretty angry, which would bother me except that my goal is to annoy them, and getting the reaction you want is nothing short of completely gleeful. They shift the paper out of your way so you can't see it. And PRESTO! It's OUT OF YOUR SPACE. Seriously -- it's like MAGIC.

Second, I sometimes get to read some pretty cool stuff in the New York Times. The Financial Times, not so much, but that's an unimportant detail since the paper will soon be ripped from my face, anyway. But more importantly -- it's HILARIOUS to watch people besides me get angry in the morning. Two wrongs may not make a right, but it makes me happy -- so it can't be all bad.

Because I Really Needed to Do My Laundry...

I have made a decision re: the DS Lite, people. After I found this article at gamespot.com, I knew what I had to do.

The bundle hits stores October 24 with a $149.99 price tag, and includes either a pearl pink or teal-colored system, and a "Best Friends" version of Nintendogs that lets gamers start the title with the six most popular breeds from the three existing Nintendogs games: Labrador retriever, golden retriever, German shepherd, beagle, Yorkshire terrier, and miniature dachshund. As with the other versions of the game, all 18 breeds are unlockable in the "Best Friends" edition. Other bonuses in the package include a Nintendogs-branded, bone-shaped screen cleaner and a paw-print-riddled Nintendogs skin for the system.

In other news, Rem Koolhaas will be giving a lecture at Harvard's GSD on...uh, shit. I probably shouldn't say when. The only time I managed to get in to a lecture at Harvard (Zaha Hadid right after she won the Pritzker Prize), we went pretty early, and were still in satellite room with the projector screens. It's not so bad, really, but if I'm going to have a seat, at least it can be in the same room as the famous architect? Eh. Maybe not. Whatever -- we'll see. For those of you who aren't familiar with Rem or his work, I gave this analogy to Laura earlier today:

This is like...if...Justin Timberlake was going to give a lecture on...being sexy.

So I'll let you know how it goes. I had big plans to see a movie tonight...or at least do my laundry. It looks like I'll be doing neither, since I'm still at work. What a shame.

[Currently Spinning: Little Brazil - Now It's Time]

Monday Madness - Potpourri

How do you eat an oreo cookie?

I like to dunk them in milk, but that aside, I don't have a special way to eat oreos, save shoving them in my face.

How long does it take you to eat lunch?

It depends on what I'm eating, and what I'm doing while I eat. I can probably down the actual food in about five minutes, unless it's scalding hot.

Caffeine or decaf?

I don't understand the point of decaffeinated beverages. I understand herbal tea -- and I will drink things without caffeine in them, but I just don't get it...What's the point?

Chicken or beef?

This reminds me of the Gilmore Girls episode (called...Actually...Chicken or Beef?) when Dean gets married, and invites Rory and Lorelai. He asks her, "Chicken or beef? Wait, what am I thinking; of course it's beef." And, like Rory, I am all about the beef.

Pen or pencil?

For crossword puzzles, only sissies and posers use pencil. I've been known to use lead for some things, but mostly, I'm an ink girl. This is actually one of those inflexible rules I stand by, but it's not like I'm going to judge you to your face if you feel like you need to use pencil. But for me, it doesn't matter how easy or hard the crossword puzzle is. Mistakes in ink aren't completely unforgivable, but why would I write down words in the boxes if I really felt I might later need an eraser? Like the decaf, I just don't get it. Now, the Cryptoquote is something I'm willing to do in pencil, but I still feel like it's less of a victory than if I finish it in pen.

Autumn or spring?

Autumn, by far, but you're asking me to choose between my two favorite seasons.

Baseball or basketball?

Baseball, but only recently, and I really only care if it's the Red Sox. And care is a word I use loosely.

'Survivor' or 'The Amazing Race?'

Neither, because I don't have a brain defect. I may watch bad TV, but the second I stoop low enough to watch - and enjoy, but probably even just watch - this drivel, you'll know that I've lost all brain function, and are free to institutionalize me.

Come up with one question for our Monday Madness participants in the weeks to come.

They say you learn something new every day. What new thing did you learn today?

It's Gonna Be the Loveliest Foot Scarf in the World

I ordered a yarn swift today.

I'm very excited about this. I bought a yarn ball winder about a month ago. I did it all a little backwards -- buying the ball winder first, and now the swift, but I had figured that it would be fine. It turns out, it's very hard to keep hanks of yarn from getting tangled when you're trying to wind them. This results in what Alisa refers to as "foot yarn," because I once used my toes to keep a skein in line while I wound it.

Now, there's nothing wrong with foot yarn. My feet are perfectly clean, and even nice. And when my foot scarf is done, you'll all be jealous. But it's kind of a hassle to have to deal with that tangly yarn at the end, so I finally broke down and bought the swift. The decision came after a bunch of lace weight yarn found its way into my stash:

I had to get some Alpaca Cloud to finish my feather and fan stole, and so while I was there, I also bought some other color (the darker color; Iris), possibly for the Swallowtail Shawl in the Fall 2006 Interweave Knits. I haven't decided, but I've been wanting Iris colored yarn for...Ever. I just never thought it was an appropriate color for anything I wanted to knit.

I also recently came into some other yarn via a contest that I won over at PURLSgoneWILD, buy guessing how much Christina's tattoo cost her (well, sort of. Apparently, I was $10 off, but since she gave a $10 tip, I *technically* won). It is some mighty fine pink yarn:

And I'm not going to lie. Once I get my yarn swift, all of this yarn will promptly be made into neat, little yarn cakes.

Hahaha. Poop.

The subject matter here has been kind of...bleh, lately. I suppose it's because I get all the hilarity out of my system over AIM these days. For example:

Me and Peter (on reformatting my computer):

Peter: if it were here i could take a look at your computer and remove everything
Briar: i know i wish you were here
Peter: with magnets
Briar: haha, well...maybe i don't, anymore
Peter: what? you hate me now?
Briar: remove it with magnets? that sounds awful!
Peter: yeah you just throw magnets at the hard drive. it's a pretty standard process
Briar: your mom's a pretty standard process
Peter: thats a lie and you know it
Briar: that's true, she's pretty specialized
Peter: haha...your mom's special. booyeah
Briar: haha, oooh. big insults coming from both our ends
Briar: eeew
Briar: our ends...
Peter: hahahaha
Peter: ...poop.

Me and Laura (on the kneeler):

Briar: it's for gardening, not giving head
Briar: but i can't get that image out of my mind because it's called a kneeler
Laura: lol
Laura: LOL - feel comfortable on your knees
Briar: haha. i love the first, more sedated, reaction. then the one after you opened the link.
Laura: gardening...uh huh
Briar: seriously, who are they kidding?
Laura: in those colors? no one
Briar: i want one in fuschia
Laura: i think purple
Briar: "Isn't that supposed to be for gardening?"
"Oh, is it? Well, come over here and let me show you my garden"

And that's all you get out of me. For now.

Maybe Tomorrow is a Lifetime Away

Is September really almost halfway through already?

I can't believe how cliche I'm about to be, but lately the days have been passing by so quickly.

This is a recent development, since I can still remember how painfully and slowly last summer dragged on. The only thing I could do was make it through each day - I couldn't even think about the "future," whatever the hell that was. Waking up in the morning was a personal victory, but the days only seemed to go downhill from there, so I slept a lot, but that only made the days seem longer (when you've got nothing to do but sleep...things get pretty dull).

It got better in about October. I was happy again. Manic. I don't mind thinking about it because it's what I needed; what I wanted. But after that, losing my job was...different. This loss didn't make the days go by slowly. Rather, it seemed to speed things up. It was like I was in a choke-hold. I wanted to have fun and enjoy my free time, but mostly I was gaining weight and developing acne, because I was stressed about my employment situation, and that just made me want to stay inside and hide from the world -- but eventually those unemployment checks were going to stop coming, and then what? (I shudder to think) I developed that paranoia that kept me from going anywhere during the day, since if I wasn't at work, people would know I didn't have a job (can we say CRAZY?). Still, there weren't enough hours in the day to get all the knitting and TV watching and being a lazy lard ass out of the way.

Now, I've been at this new place for a little over a month. I don't know what my plans are for the future. I'm taking it one day at a time again (for the most part). But the days are whooshing by (like deadlines). Grad school is looming. Where? I don't know. When? Fuck if I know.

So, yeah. It's nice to finally have my life on track, again, guys.

[Currently Spinning: Pete Yorn - Maybe I'm Right]

Thanks iTunes

I love how iTunes just sold me the "bonus track" from Pete Yorn's Nightcrawler. What they meant was "Here's track two, bitchwhat?"

Yeah, I guess I didn't really pay for it. Not in cash money. I paid for it in EXCITEMENT.

Jerks.

Housekeeping

This is an entry that I've been meaning to write for a while, but I keep forgetting, and also wanted to wait until I was sufficiently "settled" into this new layout.

Surely you've noticed the revamping around here. For a while, I had that plain white template, whose css I had changed tampered with, and at some point it just stopped working. So I switched to the black template, but I did not like it. Since then, I've been trying to teach myself some css/brush up on my html because I wanted to make my own template. For now, I found this one over at anti-ivy.com, and it was a little bit of perfect. It's like "baking" from a box. All of the ingredients are there, and it's tough to screw it up, but at least you didn't just pick up a cake from the supermarket, right?

Anyway, I wanted to point out one little thing, because it took me so long to find it (after many frustrating hours of trying to create my own), but that's the little library widget in the sidebar. It's not ideal -- if I could code my own, it would only be the books I'm reading right now, with the option to browse my entire library. However, after tearing my hair out, and finally googling every combination of the words "library," "books," and "blog," I finally found library thing. So it's a temporary solution, until I ever decide to actually purchase webspace. I don't know that I'd ever do that since my blog isn't exactly a money making/people reaching endeavour, but it's a thought.

The usual things are also in the sidebar: audioscrobbler widget, some links...I got rid of the buttons and the flickr badge, but I'm thinking of bringing some of them back. Little housekeeping things like that probably won't get announced, but I thought that since I've been settled into the new layout for a while now, I should talk about it.

Can we call it a day, now would that be okay?

Okay, I was bit by the crazy bug the other day. I'm better now. I promise. Really and truly.

I can't explain it, but I do know it has something to do with my incredible fondness for Rufus Wainwright because when he sings Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk, I know he knows how I feel.

Obsess is a word I've thrown around in my vocabulary jokingly since I was thirteen, but how funny it is, I don't know. One of my friends admitted to being mildly stalkerish when she got like this. I have to admit...it's a story that sounds all too familiar, lest we forget Mike, or taking the long way home from work to drive past the O'Brien's house, or, well...any one of my pre-college crushes. And nowadays, the excessive Googling/facebook/myspacestalking.

But it's not just a factor in my love-life. Every year around this time, candy corn hits the asiles, and I will eat myself sick of candy corn, until I don't ever want candy corn again. It usually takes about two or three bags, and I usually eat them all in one or two sittings, each (he-llo?). This doesn't stop me from doing it again next year (because they stop selling it about mid-April. If I could get candy corn any time, I'd have probably gotten sick of it years ago). Then there are fancy cakes. I still can't eat fancy cakes. And let's please never forget the oatmeal creme pies.

And I don't even want to get into binge-eating, or binge-drinking, or my music listening habits.

So thanks, friends, for listening to me while I was CRAZY (well, crazier than usual), and even though I can recognize that I'm INSANE, it certainly helped bring me back to earth when I realized I was only embarrassing myself. As my friends, it is your job to tell me when I'm being a whack-job. I only hope I can extend the same courtesy when y'all need it.

[Currently Spinning: The Raconteurs - Call it A Day]

Brownies?

Speaking of slapping Zach Braff...

Is it any wonder that I feel afraid?

There is an incredibly delicious image of Syd Barrett on the cover of this month's Uncut magazine. Every time I see that cover, I'm tempted to buy it. I really need to stop having crushes on the younger, more attractive versions of Really Old Guys.

I don't know what to do with myself when Laura's not on AIM. I'm like a lost labradoodle puppy. So I'll just dump in the blog until she's back (wow, that's a ladylike visual).

Still OBSESSING over this thing. (WHY? Why?!)I think I just need a crush right now, and my life is sorely lacking in crushable boys. You know the type. Skinny white boys with blue eyes, and some sort of emotional problem that makes them impossible to get close to, so that it's not my fault when the relationship explodes into tiny little pieces (<---I think in therapy, this would be called a breakthrough. If I had plans to do anything about it. Which I don't).

I'm almost done with a Conwy (from Nancy Bush's Knitting on the Road). It feels tight. I'm praying that when I finish the sock, I can pull it on. My sister may be thinner and smaller boned than I am, but it's not as though I have cankles. Still, hopefully it's just my fat feet the fact that it's still on the needles that's preventing me from getting this unfinished sock on my foot. I was going to cast on the second sock and knit the leg right after I finished turning the heel of the first sock (to prevent Second Sock Syndrome - also known in my household as "alcoholism"), but the discovery that the sock might not fit made me want to finish one before I decide to make the other, or my sister's going to have to cut weight to get them on her feet.

[Currently Spinning: Keane - Is it Any Wonder?]

It was Like a Bomb that Kept Exploding

I was just watching the fifth season of Sex and the City, when the next episode that came up was Plus One is the Lonliest Number.

I don't like to imagine that my life is anything like Sex and the City (and I know it annoys some people when girls think that this particular TV show parallels their lives), but a lot of the episode rang true tonight.

Berger doesn't tell Carrie that he's living with his girlfriend. When he finally admits it at the end of their pseudo-date, it was "like a bomb that kept exploding. I have a girlfriend. *pchwwww* We live together. *pchwwww* This flirtation is all in your head. *pchwwww.*"

It just hit really close to home today.

And God help me when the guy in question has an accent.

Remember

Sometimes I feel so awkward and foot-in-my-mouth-y, like today. Should I be blogging about my stupid feelings when today is September 11th? But really, I have strong mixed feelings about this. Because how should today be unlike any other day? Why should I REMEMBER today, and Forget every other day? On the other hand I can understand why anniversaries are important, and why we're probably more vulnerable to an attack on this date than on any old day, and that the fact that it is an anniversary re-opens the wounds. It's a milestone, even if it is a terrible and sad one. Though we should never forget. We should be grateful for every. single. day. we have with our loved ones.

So give someone a hug today. Thank a firefighter. Smile at a stranger.

In the past year, I've discovered two wonderful novels that explore the tragedy that happened five years ago today, and I would recommend them to anyone who wants to REMEMBER. Pick up Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, or, for a more real-time, real-life portrayal, pick up The 9/11 Report, a graphic adaptation by Sid Jacobson and Ernie Colon. The graphic novel format makes it easier (or more difficult, depending on your point of view) to digest.

Decay, decay, decay!

I think that I've discovered that autumn is "my" season. I'm convinced that my body resets when the air gets crisp and the leaves start to turn. I don't remember it being like this in El Paso; maybe because we didn't really have seasons.

There is something beatifully ironic about my emotional rebirth always concurring with the season of decay. Perhaps it's the lazy feeling thrust upon me by the suffocating heat of the summer months that makes me feel more alive when it cools down. Maybe I just like sweaters.

Whatever it is, I'm feeling infinitely better, emotionally.

I just really hope it's not one of the highs that come before a low.

Cheesecake and Houseguests

I haven't really been updating because I had house guests this weekend. I have also had a cold for the past three days, and just generally feel pretty tired and crappy.

Even though Phil was only here for a few days, and it was pretty whirlwind (he actually didn't know he'd need a place until a day before he needed one, and when he called, he had to ask if he could crash at my place that night), it's kind of sad that he's not crashing on the couch anymore. He's got this whole situation with MIT (he needs to finish one more semester), but they're really giving him hell to let him come back - even though they've already let him enroll - and he doesn't want to sign a lease until he knows they'll actually let him come back for the semester.

So, it was actually a lot of fun having Phil (and Dave) here for the weekend. I like Phil's high school friends a lot, actually, and it's always a blast when they visit. I met Dave and Jason freshman year when they came to visit Phil, and I've just loved them ever since.

Unfortunately, this weekend has been pretty interesting for Phil, in the bad way, ending with the news of Jason's father passing away. It was a sudden and unexpected thing, and Jason's father was a young man (in his fifties). I hope Jason is doing alright, and if you're the praying type, keep his family in your prayers.

My weekend was, like I said, fun in part because of Dave and Phil, and because I FINALLY got to see Matt at Cheesecake and A Capella at WILG, but also kind of stressful because of living vicariously through Phil (and having to do all of this with a terrible cold).

That's all the news around here, and I guess none of it is really great, but just that's how it is sometimes...

Maybe Next Time You Can Wear a T-Shirt

Boys who have had girlfriends for two years should at the very least mention their girlfriends once the single girl in the group starts trying to flirt with you. Even if you're "on again, off again," and are maybe off again, but especially if your friend will later confirm that there's a girl in the picture. And if you aren't single, don't send vibes.

I'm just saying.

Boys are dumb. Throw Rocks at them.

Especially a Vampire Man

Living without health insurance is basically a constant nightmare.

For me, there was the unfortunate circumstance of, oh, not being able to really afford my asthma medication or that shrink I always meant to start seeing. And ignoring the fact that it's actually illegal not to be insured in Massachusetts, there was also the constant fear that I'd be hit by a car or that I'd have some mysterious back pain that would never go away, or that I'd need penicillin.

Today, I paid full price for generic medicine. I will be reimbursed, because the trouble was on my insurance's end, not mine, but it was a cold reminder of the horrors of not being insured. Couple that with the hateful situation of "no income," and you've got yourself a party.

Still, I'm insured again! Whee! Tonight, I will go out and celebrate, movie-star style (getting drunk, getting arrested, and flinging ethnic slurs at people).

Laura: Of course you like garlic. But not if you're making the moves.
Me: That's true. Even if you use gum, you still sweat the garlic smell.
Laura: And if that, plus the cold, doesn't get you a man, I don't know what will.

Looking forward to abuse of the blockquote? Get used to it. I'm obsessed.

[Currently Spinning: Keane - Is It Any Wonder?]

blockquote test

testes, testes. One, two...

...three???

Look, the joke just never gets old to me. What can I say?

Except remember This. and This.

I've tried

Blockbuster online keeps suggesting that they send me the second disc of The Unbearable Lightness of Being before they send the first. Which is funny, except instead of "suggesting," I actually mean "forcing me to accept," and instead of "funny," I actually mean "pissing me off."

Fortunately, we're talking numbers 53 and 54 on my queue, so in the somewhat distant future, someone's going to be getting a phone call, and by someone, I mean Blockbuster. Afterwards, naturally, someone will be getting the second disc shipped first, followed by the fisrt disc, which will invariably take a few days longer than usual, and by someone, I mean me.

You can't fight the man, man.

Movies Blockbuster Says I Saw in August

Okay, I want to start doing this once a month, even though it opens me up to the potential for ridicule. So, here we go, based on a five-star system:

Cassanova - was a terrible movie. But Heath Ledger was in it, and I felt obligated. When will I learn? Never. Two stars. ★★
Glory Road - *sniffle* I'm so buying this movie. Not only is it about Don Haskins but Josh Lucas is quite possibly the most beautiful man in movies these days. It was also a very, very good movie based on a true story. What more could you ask for? Five stars. ★★★★★
Annapolis - I have a confession to make. I didn't watch this. It's in my Blockbuster history. I got it. I put it in the computer, I selected play, and then I promptly fell asleep. There was not enough pretty in the world to keep me awake, and when I made a second, half-assed attempt to watch it again, I couldn't take it. I won't give it stars, because that would be unfair and untrue, but I will tell you that I could not give less of a damn about a movie right now, and will not be renting it again.
Fanny & Alexander - should have been called Alexander and the creepy Bishop-father. There was very little Fanny in this Swedish subtitled film by Ingmar Bergman. It was interesting, even though I missed all of the supposedly overt existential themes, and I liked it enough, but it's not exactly the masterpiece I think people claim it is (although by people...I think I may be referring to Mr Bergman). But I'm probably just dense. Four stars. ★★★★
Blazing Saddles - Blazing Saddles...I've already written why I rented it, and I've certainly seen it before. I can't bring myself to buy it (like Fiddler on the Roof, which I watch constantly, but have never owned), but I will never tire of watching this movie, and will rent it again and again until one day...maybe...I'll finally buy it somewhere. Five, glowing stars for Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder. ★★★★★
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada - This was a fantastic movie. Now, if any journey is going to be called quixotic, this is the one. The acting was something amazing, and the story was very...sad. But in the good way that makes you really think about people. Directed by and starring Tommy Lee Jones, and...in several scenes he's drinking TECATE. Five stars, Tommy. ★★★★★
Girl in the Cafe - preachy preachy preachy. Decent love story. Four stars. ★★★★
Benchwarmers - I pretty much laughed so hard I peed a few times. "What are steroids?" "It's something that makes your pee-pee smaller." "There must be steroids in macaroni." Farting jokes? Always funny. Just some more clean [potty] humor from our good old Mormon friend John Heder. Four stars (it's a sliding scale) ★★★★
Just Friends - This was not a great movie, but I do have to say one thing: Ryan Reynolds in a fat suit, singing All 4 One's I Swear. That's right. Go, rent it now, just for that. Two and a half stars. ★★

Man, that was some quality movie watching going on in August, friends.

The Raconteurs - Broken Boy Soldiers

So, I've spent about a week with The Raconteurs debut album, Broken Boy Soldiers, and I finally think I like it -- no, love it. I mean, I tried to come into this with an open mind, but I guess I had already been biased by Steady, as She Goes.

And then I started to hear strong similarities to other bands, and I didn't like it. The song Together (track 5), for instance, is very reminiscent of early Beatles. Well, the Beatles when they were more rock-and-roll and less drug-induced, musical hallucinating, anyway. And I mean that in the good way (I like the Beatles), but it's not a sound I was expecting from Jack White.

When I bought this album, I think I was looking for songs like Store Bought Bones (track 7). Is that because it sounds the most White Stripes-ish? I don't know, but probably. Track 2, Hands, is a decent blend of White Stripes meets Queen meets Rolling Stones sound that makes this album more interesting with each spin.

Oh - and the blues! The blues influence is actually what made me fall in love. The song Blue Veins makes me want to be at a dark club in a whiskey-soaked, cigarette-induced haze.

Ultimately, I would recommend this album (about a billion years late...Because I am so behind (read: square, passe, loserish), it's not even funny). The hype...Well, it's deserved, in my opinion. Was it over-hyped? Probably. Is it the best album of the year? Meh. Probably not. But as you can see from the side-bar, I spent a lot of time listening to it last week.

[Currently Spinning: The Raconteurs - Broken Boy Soldiers]

And then I found $5

So, to my four faithful subscribers (even after I changed the title! Kudos):

The blog is fucked.

Hopefully we will be back on track tomorrow.

Goddamn learning CSS...and all the...stupid...midnight...gah.

Good thing y'all have bloglines!

(Nevermind. I posted this while the entries were still not loading, but I guess you need to upload the page a fourth time. (Oh. OHHHHHH. *mumble mumble...Mozilla cache...bastards, all...will cut you...mumble mumble*) Although I kind of liked it when it was a blank page, so full of potential. Now, it's just the same old crap. On a non-functioning blog. Lovely)

Maybe Two Loaves

Today, I took relatively long lunch and ended up feeding the birds in the Common. Before you're quick to judge...or think it's cute or something, know this: while I may not be like some people, who are curious as to what it might feel like to kick a pigeon, I was only feeding the birds to be mean.

See, they were pecking at each other and making the most god-awful racket, and from watching them, you'd think that they were hungry little birds who would never see food again, instead of fat, stupid birds in Boston Common who get fed all the time. I found this all too terribly amusing. It started out innocently enough, to tempt a pigeon to come near my foot -- only kidding. Except I was trying to be nice at first, feeding the tiny sparrows. The bread had touched the bench, anyway, and I wasn't going to eat it, so I threw little bits of it towards the cute little guys. But then they started attacking each other for it. And I laughed. I couldn't help myself. I threw more bread, and they became more violent, and then I couldn't stop. It was like a train wreck. A funny train wreck. That I had started.

I was sad when I ran out of bread. And the birds started to look at me with angry, beady little eyes. So that's when I called lunch to a close, and headed back to the office.

I'm totally going back tomorrow with a loaf of wonderbread.

Pardon the Mess

If the blog is somewhat of a mess in the near future, I apologize. While I didn't write the css for this page myself, I'm trying to learn it by altering some of the functions, and unlike a set template, this one came from Anti-ivy in a somewhat "do it yourself" format, so sometimes I make little mistakes that make the whole page go BAM!

If that happens, I'm sorry! I hope it's fully up and running in a few days :)

A Fibery X-Mas

I've decided to knit all of my family's Christmas presents this year, which is a pretty easy promise given that I've finished my mom's present (actually, two. I either have a choice, or she's getting spoiled), have started my sister's, and well...by God, will have knit my dad his scarf this year, because I am a horrible daughter who has not yet knit him his double thickness, 6' long scarf yet. Even though he's the only person in the world who has ever gotten excited about my knitting (yes, maybe so he could get a present. So what? He's still excited, y'all. Excited.)

Meet my new pet peeve

I can no longer sit quietly by while everyone everywhere describes countless journeys as Quixotic.

From Merriam-Webster.com:

Main Entry: quix·ot·ic
Pronunciation: kwik-'sä-tik
Function: adjective
Etymology: Don Quixote
1 : foolishly impractical especially in the pursuit of ideals; especially : marked by rash lofty romantic ideas or extravagantly chivalrous action
2 : CAPRICIOUS, UNPREDICTABLE

For starters, I don't think that the definition is broad enough to describe all journeys made by all heroes in all of the written word, but you'd think so from reading book reviews and wikipedia (the most reliable of all sources).

On the other hand, if you do broaden the definition, we all have quixotic journeys through life. It's all impractical or meaningless sometimes, and what is life if it's not lived with gusto, through the pursuit of one's ideals? Even lives of quiet desperation can have their quixotic moments (mid-life crises, anyone?). And let's not all forget just how depressing the novel of Don Quixote can be, for a moment, depending on how you read it.

To me, it's not that the word quixotic isn't usually applicable. In fact, like the word unique, quixotic is quite often an apt word. That's what makes it so frustrating.

So let's lay off on the word quixotic for a while, okay New York Times? New Yorker? Wiki-folk? Please.

I'm just not willing to accept that the journey a nine-year old boy makes through the grief of losing his father to the September 11th attacks is quixotic. Especially when the novel is so beautifully and eloquently described in the following paragraphs.

Cat? I'm a Kitty Cat.

And I dance dance dance and I meow meow meow.

HALLELUJAH!

(and I've already bought my lottery ticket, so don't even think about using those numbers, or I will cut you)

The Girl in the Cafe

I just finished watching The Girl in the Cafe. It was a bit preachy, but it was very good. I thought about buying it for a moment, but I think the one viewing was enough. I am very glad that Kelly Macdonald won an Emmy for her performance, though. I remember the previews for this movie, and the only thing that stood out was the scene where they are talking about who has to sleep on the couch when they first get to the hotel room. It's funny how differently movies are sometimes presented just to get that initial audience base. Also, how horrible my memory is because when this movie first came out, I was very excited to see it, but never did. Then, when the Emmy was won, I decided I should see it, and it wasn't until after they got to the hotel in Iceland that I remembered that I had wanted to see it all along.

The soundrack is astounding, albeit a bit...so, I keep forgetting how old this movie is (as in just because I saw it for the first time today, that doesn't mean it's that recent), but it did come out last year. So Damien Rice and Sigur Ros, well, the prominent use of their songs was great, but they're two artists who have since been a bit overplayed, maybe? I don't know. It felt "dated" because of the pronounced use of the lyrics when an instrumental track might have been just as powerful.

I guess I don't really have anything profound to say about the movie, just that it was good, but I won't be recommending it to my parents any time soon. It's very...biased. And it kind of harps on the poverty issue (which is a good issue, in my opinion, to harp on, since quite a few people will sit down for several hours to watch a movie, who won't sit still for five minutes to listen to the news), but it's also a good film. I'd say rent it if you haven't seen it already (and don't mind being preached at).