I love Supernatural. I feel weird about my affection for that show. When something happens to Sam or Dean it's really happening to me. I love each shot. I love how each episode has fog in it.
Off to watch Glee.
- Mood:
cheerful
He had seen the three attitudes of men toward the world: obedience, struggle, and revolt; the family, society, and Vautrin. He dared not choose among them. Obedience was dull, revolt impossible, struggle uncertain. (252) - Pere Goriot
Support the Octopus Pararbolis - a.k.a. the Pacific Northwest Tree Octopus.
http://zapatopi.net/treeoctopus/
Number of men learning from their predecessors mistakes: zero.
Still. I want to help. I want others to watch.
Reasons to watch Glee:
Jane Lynch is one of the funniest people alive
Cute older male role model
Singing/dancing - often not that well
Quirky songs
If you don't, Fox will not hesitate to cancel it, and how you wanna do the rest of us like that?
Surpisingly funny... not all the time, mind you. There's a lot of random information coming at you that seems totally unnecessary. Maybe I'm missing some subtle plot advancement, but mostly I just don't see where a lot of this is going. However, if you gloss over all that, there's always random songs and dances to keep up the momentum when it flags.
I think people might skip over Glee for it's oddly shaped plot. It doesn't flow the way television should just yet. On the other hand, it's possible that, in time, it will work itself out. The show is sitll very new, and we must hold out hope.
- Mood:
chipper - Music:Glee Cast - Don't Stop Believing
Go back and make it factually accurate, I guess. It's pretty close. Close enough that you might not know things are borderline incorrect, but I'll know. It just doesn't seem right to play fast and loose with Haitian culture when it means so much to them. Just because religion is worthless to me doesn't mean I should take liberties with it.
On the other hand, it's fiction. And it's done. So...
( Disambiguations: The Baron Samedi )
- Mood:
rejuvenated - Music:Bob Marley - All Along The Watchtower
( New York City - Charms Piece )
- Mood:
calm - Music:Ryan Adams - New York, New York
Honestly, Davis is a little full of himself, and his recounts of stories are much more whimsical and farfetched then I enjoy reading. Stuff about how, "I recalled at this moment... an exceptionally long legend that I had heard as an undergrad and has no apparent connection to the chapter you are reading."
Also, having no background in botany, I have no idea what many of these plants are or what they supposed healing properties they have. That should have been included for the average reader. The Haitian stuff is easier to swallow, he spends more time describing the info. A quick Google search for some of the terminology (houngan, vodou, zombi, etc.) would probably yield more efficient results.
Still, it's an interesting enough read if you can get through it. It has little nuggets of info that are quite interesting (to me, at least).
For throughout medieval Europe witches commonly rubbed their bodies with hallucinogenic ointments made from belladonna, mandrake, and henbane, all relatives of datura. In fact, much of the behavior associated with the witches is as readily attributable to these drugs as to any spiritual communion with the diabolic. A particularly efficient means of self-administering the drug for women is through the moist tissues of the vagina; the witch’s broomstick or staff was considered a most effective applicator. (Our own popular image of the haggard woman on a broomstick comes from the medieval belief that witches rode their staffs each midnight to the sabbat, the orgiastic assembly of demons and sorcerers. In fact, it now appears that their journey was not through space, but across the hallucinatory landscape of their minds.) (38)
The tribunal of the secret society determined guilt or innocence by a judgment of a most singular form. The accused was made to drink a toxic potion made from eight seeds of the Calabar bean, ground and mixed in water. In such a dose, physostigmine acts as a powerful sedative of the spinal cord, and causes progressively ascending paralysis from the feet to the waist, and eventual collapse of the all muscular control, leading to death by asphyxiation. The defendant, after swallowing the poison, was ordered to stand still before a judicial gathering until the effects of the poison became noticeable. Then he was ordered to walk toward a line drawn on the ground ten feet away. If the accused was lucky enough to vomit and regurgitate the poison, he was judged innocent and allowed to depart unharmed. If he did not vomit, yet managed to reach the line, he was also deemed innocent, and quickly given a concoction of excrement mixed with water which had been used to wash the external genitalia of a female.
Most often, however, given the toxicity of the Calabar bean, the accused died a ghastly death. The body was racked with terrible convulsions, mucus flowed from the nose, the mouth shook horribly. If a person died from the ordeal, the executioner gouged out his eyes and cast the naked body into the forest. (42)
I understand the basics of anthropology of course, I can deduce from it's Latin (anthro - people, ology - study of) what it is, but I tend not to think of these macabre rituals as a practice, because they aren't done in the U.S. If the Bellingham Herald doesn't have an article about hallucinogenic dildos (as of yet, I haven't seen one...), then how would this information ever cross my mind?
But once it does cross the mind... it opens up a whole new wave of info. Perhaps more of a book review once I actually finish the book...
- Mood:
curious
Well... as Dr. Ian Malcolm said: The lack of humility before nature that's being displayed here, uh... staggers me.
- Mood:
amused - Music:Jurassic Park Opening Titles
My attempt:
It was a Tuesday when the toaster exploded. I say exploded because it didn't just poof out of existence with a wisp of smoke and a smile - it shattered into vision-stealing schrapnel and chunks of hot bread.
"I said that would happen," Lauren mumbled from the table.
The lights flickered, dangerously close to give up power. It was silent in the room as we watched the filaments struggling to stay lit. Finally they lit up and stayed that way.
William, who went by Buck sat back down. If the generator went out he would be the only one of us who had a shot at fixing it. I faked indifference, but was secretly glad it held. If the generator gave up because I wanted breakfast, the others would make me sleep on the porch.
Janie, a mother of three Before the plague was already sweeping up machinery. I coulld offer to help but I sensed the rebuff before the words left my mouth. Instead I joined Adam, the silent one, on the porch. He had a family of nine and had chosen to shoot them in cold blood rather than let the plague get them.
That, I understood. He was just being proactive. He told us the story as a warning that he had no qualms about manslaughter - even his own family, so it would be best to leave him alone. Thus far everyone had heeded that warning but me, and occasionally Janie.
"No toast?" He inquired, voice rough from disuse.
I held up a lukewarm coil salvaged from the smouldering rubble that used to be our toaster.
"I wondered what that noise was," he finished.
"Thanks for rushing in to save me."
"You're a candyass woman if you get yourself outsmarted by anything that came out of a Sears catalogue."
Janie hissed from the doorway. "Just what are you saying about candyass women?"
"Nothin' darlin!" Adam slurred - faking Texas in his tone. Not for the first time I wondered if they had something going on. They fit together well enough in the aftermath, but maybe I was reading too much into it. We would all remember the day Adam joined us, soaked in blood with a jammed pistol in his mouth.
Buck, Leo, and I had carried him up to the cabin. when the others found out the blood came off his daughters and not the plague victims they voted to throw him out of our merry band.
Janie was the one who secured his spot with her quiet, devasted voice. "Shut the hell up," she intoned fiercly to the still protesting Buck. "You're just jealous you didn't think of it first."
And so Adam stayed, bringing our five up to six. Too many, I thought. I had seen those 20/20 specials on bird flu and couldn't help but think of our own vulnerability. It only took one chicken to decimate a population. In our case it would likely be a raccoon. Those rabid bastards kept getting into our living space and nesting near the space heater...
- Mood:
okay - Music:MGMT - Electric Feel
It has to be somewhat terrifying to be Barack Obama right now. He has to be the most watched, most listened to, most blogged about man in America - whether in a positive or negative light. He comes into a nation in a time of true crisis, where our futures are uncertain, and fiscal crises are more likely than ever. Over three hundred million people look to him for guidance right now (whether they want to or not) and he's the father of our next four years, hopefully eight.
There is public speaking, and then there is speaking to the public. He was broadcasted worldwide, on TVs in every language and through every culture. The eyes of billions were upon him. Like I said, I'd have passed out.
I admired the screwed up oath. Little known fact, not Obama's fault. He presented the oath correctly. Look it up. He said it right, it was just a communications error.
I can hear CNN. They're shuffling the Obamas through their luncheon down to the parade. A whirlwind of chaos and terror. Have you really looked at Obama? He looks much, much older than he did when he started campaigning. What a soul-crushing time to come into office. He has so much work ahead of him, and even if you'd like to help him - you can't.
My favorite part of the whole event was when Bush climbed into the helicopter with Laura (who was so happy to be out of D.C. she practically skipped to the chopper) and disappeared to cheers. From now on he needs an invitation to get back into the white house, and thankfully he no longer has his finger on the nuclear holocaust button. I bet Obama has it removed all together.
It's such a historical day. Feels weird. Like life shouldn't be resuming as normal. Like we should all stop what we're doing, as opposed to ditching math early so we can catch Obama's actual inaguration. Luckily, I missed the first five hours of this event, and came injust as Biden was getting sworn in. I have excelllent timing.
Why does CNN insist upon interviewing people off the street? Get off your lazy asses and fill the time with some statistics or something. I don't give a damn about Brianna from Brooklyn.
In case you missed it somewhere, anywhere else:
( Obama's Inaguration Speech )He ended with Thank you, God Bless you, and God Bless the United States of America. It was very Independence Day, but he totally makes it work.
- Mood:
happy - Music:The Star Spangled Banner (written by Francis Scott Key)
- Mood:
contemplative - Music:Tom Petty - Free Fallin'
Give a wise man an honest brief to plead
And his eloquence is no remarkable achievement
But you are glib; your phrases come rolling out
Smoothly on the tongue, as though your words were wise
Instead of foolish. The man whose glibness flows
From his conceit of speech declares the thing he is:
A worthless and stupid citizen.
To me, it makes much more sense in the form of a paragraph, where everything is grammatically correct.
Give a wise man an honest brief to plead, and his eloquence is no remarkable achievement. But you are glib; your phrases come rolling out smoothly on the tongue; as though your words were wise instead of foolish. The man whose glibness flows from his conceit of speech declares the thing he is: a worthless and stupid citizen.
- Music:Hellogoodbye - If You Wanna, I Might
Christmas is like a fire drill at the office. There you are, sitting at your computer doing actual work for the first time all week, not thinking about sex or whiling away whole hours looking up "genital disfigurements" on Google.
Suddenly a shrill razor wire of a sound seizes your attention. It takes only a fraction of an instant for recognition to flood your brain - you have been trained since childhood to know this sound and how to respond to it. It is as familiar as the smell of chalk dust.
But you are not a pliable 6-year-old anymore. You are a modern, adult, urbane. You roll your eyes in annoyance: "Oh, God." You try to get back to your work, but you can't. You are outside the groove now. But that's okay. Surely they'll shut it off in a minute.
For just the briefest moment you wonder if perhaps you should leave your office and step out into the hall. But then you realize, of course not. Fire drills aren't meant for you. They're for other people, on lower floors who do less important work.
The alarm continues. It seems to have been engineered to exfoliate the very cells of the human inner ear. It is corrosive, an auditory acid. It is a horrible thing, this sound: inescapable and intrusive and relentless.
At last you step from your office, and this is when you see that others have done the same thing. Everyone is looking at one another with unsteady, ironic grins, as if to say, "We're not actually supposed to leave the building like a bunch of kids, are we?"
Which is when the portly fire warden assumes control of the floor. He speaks with a powerful baritone, ideal for disasters - a bulldozer of a voice: "Okay, people, everybody outside now."
This is not a suggestion. And it does not matter that you were so very close to closing the deal, or finishing the column, or adding that last dormer to the roofline. This is a fire drill, and you will leave your office and go downstairs and stand on the opposite side of the street and that is final.
You see? It's identical to Christmas.
Christmas isn't like the other holidays. You are perfectly welcome to have a backyard cookout on the Fourth of July, but if you'd prefer to stay indoors and eat a Lean Cuisine? Nobody will suggest you need therapy. And after a certain age, it would be considered troubling if you put on a costume and walked door-to-door asking for candy on Halloween.
But Christmas is more insistent. Christmas tugs your sleeve in November and says, "Are you shopping for me yet? You're gonna get a tree, right? It's gonna be bigger than last year's, right?"
Even being a Jew doesn't get you off the hook. Hanukkah has been transformed into the Jewish Christmas. Never mind that it's a holiday based on the rededication of a building and not the birth of a savior. Every apartment building in Manhattan has a six-foot menorah right beside the Christmas tree. Jews are fully expected to be just as frazzled, overextended on their credit cards, and anxious about seeing family as the Gentiles.
The spell is powerful. Every television show, many movies, and most of the songs on the radio are Christmas-themed. It's impossible if you're an American to simply forget that it's the most wonderful time of the year.
Even in the finest stores, manically cheery holiday music is played in an endless lopp of joy. This is music that doesn't require a prefrontal cortex at all, and we like it because it comforts us. We have known the words to every one of these songs since we were 4.
We may be standing in Barneys in our $400 shoes and wondering whether our sister would prefer the scarf or the groovy umbrella, but when we hear "Jingle Bells" over the sound system, we are transported back to our thumb-sucking childhood. The song is the psychological equivalent of being put down for a nap.
See, you might think that your good sense and superior mind have inoculated you against the forces of the holidays. But are wrong. Nobody is entirely free from the gravity of this particular holiday.
The suicide rate actually drops during the Christmas season. People slip their heads out of the noose, put down the razor blade, and throw up the pills. They may feel life is not worth living, but they also feel death can wait until the gifts are unwrapped.
Joy, family, and giving: the spirit of Christmas or a marketing strategy? Maybe I'm so cynical and coal-hearted that I need to be taken out behind the barn and shot in the head, but each year, as the decorations and holiday paraphernalia arrive in stores earlier than the year before, I can't help but think: Christmas is the orgasm that marketers have been saving up all year long.
"Doesn't this feel motherfucking fantastic!" they scream, red-faced, in our ears. And because we are surrounded by glittering, blinking trees and everbody we know is shopping, talking about shopping, or complaining that they have so much shopping left to do, we nod our heads: "Sure, yeah, it feels great."
In other words, even if the merriment is sometimes a little forced, we try.
Yes, we all know that Christmas is stressful, unnecessarily commerical, and emotionally exploitative. Any Brown University senior can tell you that. So why is it, then, that we continue to look up in the sky for that shining red nose?
I am about as far from Christian as a person can be while still living outside the walls of a supermax prison. Even as a child, if I had seen a man in a sleigh landing on our roof, I would have thrown rocks and sticks at him.
Why, then, after building my house, did I insist on putting up a Christmas tree? "It will be fun," I told my endlessly patient mate, Dennis. I had promised the same thing - it would be fun - about going boating on the Connecticuit River with my unreliable brother. Dennis hates water and cannot swim. So the fatiguing, seven-hour boat ride is now not merely a memory for him, but a scar.
Dennis was raised Catholic, has horrible memories of Catholic school, and wants nothing to do with Jesus. But because I wanted a tree, he got into the spirit of things. And the day we plugged in the lights on this tree, our house flooded. And not just a little. We had our own miniature Katrina.
Two of the things Dennis hated most in life - water and Christmas - were now combined in our living room.
Our neighbor came to our rescue. She brought her clean-cut husband and her wet vac, and she removed the worst of the water. Then she returned a short time later, showered and polished and holding a basket of food: sandwiches, potato chips, and cookies.
It was a simple gesture, but the basket stunned me because I had not been expecting it. It was an act of such goodness and kindness. It was biblical: Do unto others. And I was deeply moved.
When I thanked her, she waved it away. "It's nothing, nothing."
But it was everything. That evening as I lay in the dark beside Dennis, our two dogs between us, under the covers, I thought of our neighbor. And how she was the only reason we were even in our own bed. She alone had made it possible. It was clear from this perspective that without her there would have been no recovery from the flood.
She had brought us more than just a wet vac. She had carried grace into our our home with her bare hands.
In that basket, hidden beneath one of the sandwiches and cunningly tucked right between a chocolate-chip cookie and a bag of Cape Cod brand potato chips was Christmas itself. Pure, true Christmas. Unavailable at any mall or even at Cartier. The hardy, incorruptible, and now exceedingly rare variety of Christmas - more of a substance than a holiday.
We fixed the house. Became extremely close to our neighbor and her family. And even started to share Christmas dinners.
Somehow the lump of coal in my stocking had turned into something gold and shiny with street value.
And that's just it: Christmas may be more of a registerd trademark each year, but this is why we continue to pause at midnight and listen for the sound of bells, high in the sky.
Because maybe, this time, we'll finally hear them.
- Mood: chipper
- Music:Somebody's Watching Me - Rockwell
Watching Serenity. Love this movie, even the more boring parts that after you see 10 or 11 times you can barely tolerate. But this movie... uh, love it. Part of it is my Nathan Fillion fetish. The other part is my Joss Whedonesque dialogue.
Captain Malcolm Reynolds: This record here's about twelve years old. Parliament buried it and it stayed buried until River here dug it up. This is what they were afraid she knew. And they were right to fear. There's a universe of folk who're gonna know it, too. Someone *has to* speak for these people. Y'all got on this boat for different reasons, but y'all come to the same place. So now I'm asking more of you than I have before. Maybe all. Sure as I know anything, I know this - they will try again. Maybe on another world, maybe on this very ground swept clean. A year from now, ten? They'll swing back to the belief that they can make people... better. And I do not hold to that. So no more runnin'. I aim to misbehave.That is an excellent speech. This idea that people are never happy with other people. That there will always be an attempt to make people better. But even if we could do such a thing, why would we want to? The diversity of humanity is what makes it interesting.
- Mood:
cranky - Music:Serenity Theme
- Mood:
groggy - Music:.38 Special - Hold On Loosely
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
A long nap in frigid temperatures with absolutely no obligations plaguing me.
What is your greatest fear?
Mediocrity. Losing my imagination.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Being repetitive
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Arrogance and blandness.
What is your greatest extravagance?
In terms of things I couldn't live without... the internet.
What is your current state of mind?
Calm, vaguely amused.
On what occasion do you lie?
Who needs an occasion?
Which living person do you most despise?
The one suing me, probably. The person or persons that start their car every morning at 6 a.m. and let it idle outside my window for a half hour.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
A sense of humor. Humility.
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
A sense of humor. Self-worth.
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
I know!
(lots of rambling) (pause) Well, except for where I just contradicted myself.
Fuck.
I'm so full of rage right now.
Seriously.
Can we just forget that happened?
Which talent would you most like to have?
Any? I guess the ability to carry a tune.
What do you consider to be your greatest achievement?
I think I'm too young to decide that one right now.
If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
I'd like to be a tree. A federally protected tree. I'd probably end up coming back a crazy old lady, though.
Where would you like to live?
No kidding, Transylvania.
What is your most treasured possession?
My quick wit.
What do you most value in your friends?
A sense of humor. An interesting story.
Who are your favorite writers?
Non-fiction writers that are simultaneously funny. Erica Spindler. Carl Hiaasen.
Who is your favorite fictional hero?
Captain Malcolm Reynolds (Firefly, Serenity). "I aim to misbehave."
Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Hunter S. Thompson.
What is it that you most dislike?
A lack of anything. No spark, no lies, no creativity.
What is your motto?
Hey, so I was thinking...
I guess that's more of a catchphrase.
- Mood: calm
- Music:Have I Been A Fool? - Jack Penate
These questions are amongst those asked when taking the American citizenship test. For many years the system was different, but now I believe you need 70% correct to pass the test out of randomly asked questions. Of the 10 questions I am to ask you, that would mean you got 7 correct. No cheating and no whining. These are older questions, from the original test. Tomorrow I'll try to post 10 questions from the new test, which is actually much more difficult.
1. What is the U.S. capital?
2. How many times may a Senator be re-elected?
3. How many Amendments have their been to the U.S. constitution?
4. Who said "Give me Liberty, or give me Death."?
5. In what year was the Constitution written?
6. What is the introduction to the Constitution?
7. What is the most important right granted to U.S. citizens?
8. What is the 4th of July?
9. How many stripes are on the U.S. flag?
10. What were the 13 original states?
( Answers and Explanations )
- Mood:
chillin' with castiel
I was having a spot of amusment this morning when I realized that Barack Obama is probably the most blogged about man in America today. And hey, he deserves it. I voted for him. To be fair, I would have voted for anyone in the non-Republican camp at this point. Anyone without affiliations to the Bush family, also. Barack could be mugging it up with terrorists while killing puppies and releasing a flesh eating bacteria into schools for disabled, blind, deaf kindergarteners and I still would have voted for him.
Have I mentioned how much I hated Dubya? Because, seriously. A hatred like no other. But now... it's over. I'm free. January 20th, 2009. Mark that on your calendar's people. A day of history. A day when the Bush Jr. family is expected to vacate the premises.
I do wonder what it's like to move out of the White House into just a regular house. Well, not a regular house. A regular, happens to be a mansion house. Still. All that history and scandal surrounding you every day, and now you're just regular folk like us. Only with a lot more money and occasionally an Impeachment attached to your name. (Yeah, I mean you, Clinton.) I love that man. It isn't fair that he was Impeached but Bush II was not. I'm thinking of starting a petition.
So up in the Political Science department, everyone is thrilled. There's hugging and laughter and what-not. It's a little overwhelming. I'm not very fond of strangers in my personal space, but I guess I can make an exception for this day.
They keep tagging it as how we made history. The first African American President! Yeah! Yay! Except he's only half black. So what happens when we have a full African American President? Does Barack get demoted to the first Half-Black President?
McCain was on CNN yesterday morning tagging this as the most important position in the world. I'm not sure everyone in the world would agree, but the important part is that he lost it.
I thought it was interesting that during McCain's concillatory speech, they booed Obama, but during Obama's victory speech, no one booed McCain. I guess it's easier to be gracious when your guy makes into the White House. And now the Democrats control Washington. It's like the greatest day of my young life. I don't care what the GOP thinks of this. They keep spouting off how it's going to be an orgy of baby killing and gay marriage.
I fucking hope so! I hope there's a movment! I'm going to get behind this shit!
A friend sent me a Bumper Sticker that reads: Americans killed by terrorists since 1987? 3000. Americans killed by Abortion since Yesterday? 4000. After I stopped laughing I started thinking about these facts. Since the war in Iraq, I would imagine those numbers are much higher. The American death toll was at least 4000. Also, if 4000 babies were aborted every day that would average 80 a day in all 50 states, many of which have heavy legislation reguarding abortion. (Arkansas, North Dakota, Texas, and Oregon) Many more have less heavy legislation, but there's still a lot of red tape.
When Bush enacted the Laci and Conner's Law (That would be Laci Peterson and her unborn son Connor, for those not in the know), making it two crimes when you kill a pregnant woman (the life of the mother and the life of the baby), that legally made many women responsible for this "crime". Numerous states have the mothers look at an ultrasound before they abort. Guilting the guilty.
Either way, I know approximately one baby is born per second in the world, so that means that about 31,536,000 babies are born a day, worldwide. (Approximately 4 people die in that second (or possibly minute) as well, which prevents severe overpopulation), Now 4000 of these babies dying everyday would not be a large number. In fact, if I had to guess, I'd say about 6000 of these babies die from various conditions (malnourishment, poor medical care, complications, poverty, mothers who snap and stab their baby 135 times and toss them outside in a garbage bag in Oakdale, MN http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/16
However, I do not think 4000 of them could feasibly die every day from abortion in the U.S. Worldwide, that number would be nothing. Many MANY countries have less restrictions on abortions in countries where rape and poverty are more prevalent. That's not to say it's encouraged, but it certainly happens more frequently outside of the States.
I am Pro-Choice. Generally people who make the choice to abort are not prepared to be parents to begin with. At least they recognize that responsibility for what it is. Oh, but the Foster Care! Yeah, that's such an effective system. The fact is, that we have this haughty attitude that we use to look down on these people, but we don't deserve the luxury. So yes, I am Pro-Choice. And I am telling you that 4000 babies are not killed each day in the United States.
Prove me wrong.
For your viewing pleasure, Barack Obama and his ability to lead the world's Superpower.
( Obama's Victory Speech (borrowed from nytimes.com) )
- Mood:
thrilled
- Mood:
impressed
Profile
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
apatheticaltwo- Mostly Shannon
Syndicate
