Spaghetti and Waffles

Yeah, it's audacious. And lazy. Tonight I'm sponging off my sister's blog and sharing with the entire world a bit of intelligent and creative writing on the differences between males and females...not authored by myself, but by Johanna of spider infamy. Creative, Jo is. Sentimental and romantic, most definitely. Intellectual, not incredibly. But this isn't sentimental or romantic. I liked this a lot and I think you all will too...although I'd have to preface it with the disclaimer that my brain, thank you very much, is not a typical Spaghetti Brain. But you can judge for yourself. :) Enjoy!

.................................................

Dear Cyberworld:

I’m sure that there are a lot of ways to describe my personality, but I think that anybody who knows me at all would agree that I seem to be very romantic at heart. And I know that I would have to plead guilty on all accusations of this. Many times I want to be as free as the wind, but on a much more often circumstance, I find myself wanting to belong to that Special Someone. And sometimes, maybe a little more often then not, I find that I want both at the same time! How this is possible, I really don’t know. Such contradictions are a habit of mine that it is impossible to shake. It’s in my blood, I assume. In fact, it’s in every girl’s blood. It’s a curse of horrific and astonishing caliber.

Here, I believe, is as perfect a time as any to introduce you to a new concept. It is a large mass of strange, infinite, always female, sometimes frightening, and very, very, very complex accumulation of that stringy stuff inside your head, and is known to all males as the Spaghetti Brain.

The Spaghetti Brain is what men use to describe a woman’s mind. It is a large tangled, stringy, unknown web of emotions that they (bafflingly) cannot ever understand, even in their wildest imaginations.

Men typically use the Spaghetti Brain trick as an excuse for not understanding the complex accumulation of our string of emotions. They cowardly hide behind it, knowing that the female mind is far too out of reach for them to grasp at a moments notice, and therefore needing some excuse for failure.

On the other hand, the theory of the Spaghetti Brain is correct on a few counts. At times, even I can’t understand the strange mixture of sensations streaming through my being. There are times in a day when I will just be talking to a member of my family on a topic as harmless (you’d think) as school, and I’d find myself in tears. For no reason at all! This creates in me frustration at myself for being so emotional about nothing at all, and my tears will give way to the emotion of anger. This is a perfect example of the Spaghetti Brain, also known as Emotional Contradictory Syndrome. I’m not sure if I am the only girl on the face of the earth to suffer these effects, but I sincerely hope not, otherwise this whole paper would be for nothing.

Boys are correct about the Spaghetti Brain on another count as well. Sometimes my own mind becomes such a tangled mess of thoughts and emotions and sensations and ideas, that my mind does feel like a mass of jumbled spaghetti. Sometimes, I will be talking to somebody about something, and then a moment later I will spout out a (seemingly) random thought or question. People often wonder about this, and how I can jump from subject to subject in a span of three seconds. It’s just that my mind is going so fast that my mouth can’t keep up, thus creating a random thought every now and then.

It’s the Spaghetti Brain at work.

The reason men find this such fascinating and unreachable pastime is because they can’t understand the fine art of using ones brain to its full capacity. And here, I will introduce you to the pride of all men. It is the organized, simple, perfect (supposedly), uncomplicated world of the Waffle Head.

The Waffle Head is how men like to picture their minds: as neat, orderly, well-maintained compartments of simple things. There’s the compartment of sports, the compartment of food, the compartment of dating (the smallest compartment of all), the compartment of school, and so on. They take a lot of pride in their Waffle Heads and seem to think it a great accomplishment to occasionally forget to use ones brain. Admitting to being a Waffle Head is the same thing as saying that you only use your mind as a tool to stay alive and not for dramatic thinking, as it was intended since the beginning of time.

The Waffle Head theory is somewhat correct, although not quite as accurate as men like to suppose. They typically do have small sections of brain-mass that they can tap into at any moment of their choosing, and throw bits of information into whenever they wish. And on top of all these things, men can most always take a bit of information, skim over the data it offers, and carelessly throw it into a “compartment” without having to analyze it to try and find deeper meaning until there is almost nothing left.

On the other hand, we Spaghetti Brains like to suppose that the “compartments” of which men are so proud, are actually glorified trash cans. For instance, have you ever noticed that boys and men can never remember anything that happened two minutes ago? Have you ever wondered why they are so darn forgetful?

Well, we have. We Spaghetti Brains have wondered about it for quite some time. We often hold meetings of the Secret Spaghetti Brain Association after two a.m. in somebody’s grandpa’s old barn and discuss these great mysteries of life. And now, I believe we have hit the solution on the bull’s eye. Men have but one “compartment” in their overconfident minds, that being (as I think I have already said) a large trash can. They take a small article of information, scan it for useful facts (usually not find any), and then throw it away into the trash can of their minds. Have you ever noticed that they do the same thing with mail? While we women keep every scrap of mail we receive, and yes, even the envelopes, men skim the letter, throw it away, and forget about it. No wonder their minds are so neat and tidy!

The same thing goes for the Spaghetti Brain mind. We keep every particle of information that passes through our ears, and soon our minds become as cluttered as an old attic before Spring Cleaning.

This is my theory.

Now, don’t ever assume that I think boys are stupid or dumb, on the contrary, I think them (more often then not) far smarter then girls. And, though they sometimes don’t use all of their brainpower, they never have to worry about all the dramatics of life or emotions getting out of whack or unintentionally turning life into a dramatized soap-opera. This is a major plus.

And with that bit of information, I will end this theatrical hypothesis. So now, you may push this bit of information into any gap of your brain that is still uninhabited and go on with your lives, only, maybe a little smarter now.

Oh, and what I said earlier about boys forgetting what you told them two minutes ago, don’t worry about that for the moment; the garbage doesn’t go out until Thursday.

falling asleep at my desk...

Today is a super-slow day at the office. I wish there was something I needed to do...like write a letter, send a fax, put some statistics into a sweet chart, or something else thrilling like that.

I'm just being cynical because I think it's funny. I really do like my job.

I have to stay in town all day today because I have Bible study at 7 tonight. I don't know whether I mentioned it before, but I'm co-leading a high school small group this year, and I get to play my guitar. This is actually the first time I've played in front of people on a regular basis, but apart from the first evening (it was out of tune and there wasn't time to fix it) it's gone pretty well. Last week, I shared my testimony and introduced everyone to the song "Grace and Love" by Kutless. I wasn't sure if it was going to work out, but I'd brought lyric sheets so they could sing too. Anyways, I think they really liked it, and I'm going to play it again tonight. It's got a really simple pattern, but it's a good song. yay for nice easy guitar tunes.

Anyways...that's all I've got for you today, except for some awesome pictures you definitely need to look at now. Enjoy!

this one...wow. Yeah. *shudders*

And last but not least, here's a picture of a goat on a hog.

your daily dose of Kookiness

Sometimes I read about things that are ridiculous. Sometimes, I read about things that are beyond ridiculous. I like to call those things Kooky. That means that anyone who advocates/is sympathetic to/thinks that perhaps there's a bit of rationality within/doesn't see what's so funny about these things are total nutcases, or might even be Kooks themselves. Kookiness is always good for a few laughs by those of us happily colonizing this pleasant little area called reality, so long as our mirth is respectfully followed by a somber reflection on the true paucity of wisdom and of those who would possess it.

So here's a small tribute to the Kooks who inhabit this world and contribute to its lunacy...
remind me not to send my kids to school in Australia...

News Flash! Ice Cream Swirls are Offensive!

mmm...weekends....

I've been thinking that maybe I'm a dork for posting almost every day. That's the end of that line of thought.

I did end up going to Just Like Heaven. Like I mentioned earlier, I didn't really think I'd like it, because it just looked like a chick flick to me and I don't really like most chick flicks. And I wasn't disappointed in my expectation of free-flowing sap and cheese. There were definitely a couple of funny parts, and John Heder, forever to be remembered as Napoleon Dynamite, played a minor but funny role and pretty much made the movie as far as I'm concerned. It was fun to hang out with some of the other girls from my college group though. After the movie we went to Coldstone and watched all the ten and twelve year old kids pretend they were really grown up and cool. That made all of us feel old. But seriously. Parents, don't assume your darling little preteen girl is well-behaved. They aren't as sweet and cute when all their friends are around and you're not. And don't, under any circumstances, drop them off at the mall dressed in a miniskirt and halter top. Even if they weren't dressed like...like that, though, they annoy the heck out of those of us who have been out of that stage for a good ten years. It's funny, though, because I'm sure those kids think the same about eight-year olds. And when I'm thirty I'll likely be annoyed by twenty-ish college kids too. And so on until I'm senile and can't think much of anything about anyone.

Today I went to the mall with Jo...we shopped separately for a while, and I got two really pretty sweaters with sparkly buttons. :) (For all my tomboyish background, I get surprisingly excited about sparkly things.) Then we went to see the movie Flightplan. It was pretty good...it was really dark, especially at the beginning, and I really hate dark-colored movies. But it was good and suspenseful, although it did have some plot holes which didn't make sense. OK movie, although not a great one and not one I'd buy.

thanks for reading.

Eeeeeexcellent.

I got a new job. Yep, the one I mentioned a while back as something I'd like to have. But now it's all mine. I'll work for a different Senator and his committee. And I'll actually sit on the committee when it meets once a week, taking notes and keeping records of testifiers, etc. I'll do all the scheduling for meetings, the bill scheduling, the write the committee books, plus all the stuff I'm already doing in my current office: filing, expenses, keeping the calendar, congratulatory letters, some research, and tons of miscellaneous stuff they find for me to do. :) I don't know when I'll start...probably about two weeks from now. Necesito ropa nueva para esta trabajo! I'll have plenty of people to show me the ropes. I'm really sad to leave the job I'm in, though...it's fun and they treat me well. I'll still see them around, but it won't be the same. That's the cloud to this silver lining. Or something.

Oh...I had a really funny dream the other night. I dreamt I had this huge crush on a guy who went to my church, but he was on vacation or something. So for some reason I was telling EVERYONE about this guy and how awesome he was and how he was definitely my perfect match. So everyone...like all my coworkers and all my other friends, came to church just to see this guy, once he came back from vacation. And he was being a total freak! He was talking weird and saying stupid things and acting like a complete antisocial retard. And I was so embarrassed. I tried telling everyone that he wasn't like that before, and that I wouldn't have liked him if he was such a fool. But they just laughed at me. (This story doesn't have any resemblance to reality and isn't even about someone who exists.)

Anyways...tonight I'm probably going to see a movie with the girls from church. I think we'll see the one with Reese Witherspoon..."A Piece of Heaven" or something like that. Sigh. I guess it won't kill me to see a girly movie with some girls. Maybe. I'll let you all know how it is. Hmmm...I'll probably play some poker afterwards...that might kind of balance out the evening.

As Promised....

Spiders. I'm not the biggest fan, but I don't shriek and holler when I see them, especially if they aren't bothering anyone. I could care less if a daddy longlegs or some other little spindly thing makes its home in the dark corners of my room. I don't use the space behind my dresser, so they're welcome to it if they don't bother me. But my sister Johanna is a different case. Her room seems to be the Spider Mecca of the entire county. Understandably then, Jo lives in constant paranioa of the creatures. The other day I was walking through her room and she whispers "Don't. Move." I feared I was about to step on a screeching rattlesnake by the look on her pale face. She proceeded to point to not a rattlesnake, but an admittedly large, furry, striped spider, apparently taking an evening stroll in its front yard outside its cozy Home Sweet Home: a tiny hole in the corner. Johanna's eyes never left the creature as she slowly poised herself directly above it and said, "Give me a cage!" A cage? Apparently this freed me from my command to remain still. Using only her wide, frantic eyes, she pointed to a plastic lattice pen-and-pencil holder. I dumped its contents out and she positioned it about three feet directly above the spider.

Seconds went by. The only movement was the nearly imperceptible lowering of her hand holding the "cage." She whispered, "It has lots of eyes. If I don't move slowly, it'll see me and dash back into its house." I stood awkwardly, unsure what my role in this epic capture was to be but wanting vaguely to be a part of it. Suddenly she lunged with the cage, and I couldn't tell if she'd gotten him under it or not. I told Jo she'd missed. After all, I had the flashlight (another nearby stalking tool Johanna kept by her bed) and it looked like he wasn't in there. For several minutes, we diplomatically discussed the plusses and minuses of lifting the cage. She said he could just starve in there, and that way we wouldn't have to squish him. Ultimately though, since I did have the flashlight, she lifted the cage, and yep, he was in there and darted out. Johanna screamed. The spider ran about a foot towards his home and stopped. Jo gave me the kind of look people give when they are horrified by something but are also a little sheepish about it and they are trying to laugh at themselves because they know you're laughing at them, whether you're showing it or not. Me, I was howling out loud with laughter. Nonplussed by my outburst, she gasped, "You have to help me get him. I'll keep an eye on him because he blends into the carpet. You find something long and pointy to kill him with."

I sobered. The execution would fall to me.

Gathering my emotions together, I darted around her room, suggesting trophies, pencils, and other equally inadequate (in Jo's eyes) spider killers. I realized I might have to try the place I was headed all along: My Room. As soon as I ran into my own dwelling, my eyes found my Stick, laid carefully in a place of honor behind a stack of books. (Most things in my room, including my shelves and bed and desk, are also behind stacks of books.) This wasn't any Stick. This is way better than the Stick on Homestar Runner. This stick is thick, strong, very smooth, and almost white. I gently caressed its branches as I remembered the day we met...

I had found my stick laying in a rough neighborhood, out of place and lonely under a bush next to the birdfeeders. Miraculously, the orphan stick had managed to avoid all the gooey white substance falling from the birdfeeder, and I immediately admired its courage and resourcefulness. I proceeded to rescue it from danger and brought it inside to care for it as one of my own. I kept in suspended upright in a jar of pennies and it repaid my kindness by graciously holding many of my precious possessions on its branches.

I snapped out of my flashback to Johanna's shrieking to hurry up. I looked at how perfect and jagged its edge was. Could I really use my beloved Stick to kill a disgusting fat spider? Second thoughts galloped through my mind as I presented the Stick to Johanna, hoping she would forget her plan for me to kill the spider. She accepted it without dissent. Yessss.....

After several more minutes of stragetic planning between us, Johanna finally jammed the stick against the spider (who was now up against the wall), capturing him underneath it. Or at least half of him. The other half of the spider stuck out, his legs writhing. I could hear his muscles flexing, his legs tapping the wall. Johanna screamed. I screamed, partly startled by her but sick to my stomach at the sound of squishing spider meat.

She looked up at me again, eyes tormented, and barely gasped, "GET THE ARROW!" A flashlight, a cage, and now an arrow, what's next in this asylum? She pointed up to...yes, yes folks, it was indeed an arrow attached to her wall near the ceiling. I wondered why in the world she would have an arrow on her wall, but that fleeting thought was followed by a distinct feeling of deja vu. It was just like on the movie Signs, when Merrell and Graham are trying to kill the alien. There's this point when Merrell looks up to the wall and sees his trophy baseball bat. At that point, he knows what he needs to do and beats up the alien. Transported back to reality once again by Johanna's shrieking, I reluctantly grabbed the enigmatic weapon. So I would be the one to do the murdering after all. The spider's furry legs still writhed. I stabbed him with the arrow, hoping I wouldn't have bad spider karma after killing such a prominent member of their species. We both pulled back our tools. Apparently we'd missed a single leg in our attempt, and our courageous spider dragged his misshapen body along, towards his home, with his one unaltered limb. For an instant, Jo and I looked at each other in combined wonder and terror and disgust. We both might have screeched at this point. "He's indestructible!" Jo shouted. (There was an awful lot of screaming and shouting going on...did I mention it was nearly midnight?) She was still holding my precious Stick, and I the arrow. We both took another spear at the poor creature who, I remembered at this point, had only been wandering around in his front yard, soaking in the 70-watt light and exercising his cramped limbs. How quickly a life becomes nothing more than a body. We both felt the last breath of the spider as we twisted and stabbed his body into a pulp.

Eeeuw.

Several days have since passed. The skeletal corpse of a brave and innocent spider remains in that corner. Neither Johanna or I dare to wander into that now-hallowed land. The spider was not the only casualty suffered that evening, though. My Stick now bears the scars of battle: a grim dark stain of spider juice on its proud, jagged edge. How saddening. That's all I've gotta say about that.

A song

Last week I kind of felt like I should post something relating to the anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. I refrained because I know so many others were impacted by the attacks, far more and a different way, than I. Some have relatives who were killed or injured. Many are serving, or know some who are serving, overseas right now in the aftermath of the attacks. So I feel that my emotions on the event and its anniversary are, although very real and very strong, are not unique or even much worth communicating. But although I'm still not going to talk about it much, and although I'm a bit tardy, I've decided simply to post the lyrics of Lee Greenwood's famous "God Bless the USA." This song holds special and intense meaning for me as my dad served in the Air Force for over 21 years. It was sung at his retirement ceremony as an officer in full navy dress and white gloves walked slowly down the aisle holding a folded American flag. I rarely shed a tear for any occasion, but don't think there was a dry eye in the auditorium that evening, mine included. (I've also heard this song played at a Nebraska Cornhuskers spring game, over a montage of Iraqi war footage and a falling, crumbling Saddam statue.) You've probably heard it many times before. But I hope it never loses its meaning to anyone...so take the time to read it again. (Next: The Spider Story!)

If tomorrow all the things were gone I'd worked for all my life,
And I had to start again with just my children and my wife,
I'd thank my God above to be living here today.
Cause the flag still stands for freedom
And they can't take that away.

'Cause I'm proud to be an American where at least I know I'm free
And I won't forget the men who died who gave that right to me
And I'll gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today
Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land
God bless the USA

From the lakes of Minnesota, to the hills of Tennessee
Across the plains of Texas, from sea to shining sea
From Detroit down to Houston, and New York to L.A.
There's pride in every American heart, and it's time we stand and say

That I'm proud to be an American where at least I know I'm free
And I won't forget the men who died who gave that right to me
And I gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today
Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land
God bless the USA

I have achieved total technological success.

Finally! Here are the pictures I promised (or not) a while back. (The Upload tool is working today.) This one was taken a couple of weeks ago as I was heading into town. Midwestern sunsets like this one are the reasons I try to keep a camera in my car all the time! This time I didn't even get out of the car...I pulled over and rolled down the passenger window. yes, i know. i am a professional. :P

This next one is Rashelle and I wading in the fountain at the Union last weekend. There were two couples sitting at the edge and, although we were only in the fountain for a minute, I guess we must have been kind of loud because all four of the lovebirds left. Ha!

I thought this nighttime shot of the fountain was kinda neat...

Update on the situation

An hour later: Still wishing for a nice dish of gooey Rocky Road. Went down to the cafeteria to see if they sell anything but white ice cream, even though I already know they don't. That plain white stuff isn't going to cut it today. If I have a fairy blog-grandmother, I hope she's reading this.

four more lists...

There is a general perception espoused by many in the literary world today that, when one writes a thing for the world to read, they must connect something profound to the banal incidences of everyday life for their thoughts to be interesting, effective, or even worth reading. The thing which needs communicating, they say, must be somehow derived from a trivial instance or observation. Unless one has something novel and incredible to say, why would one wish to write/blog at all? I see no reason we cannot extrapolate this view to include the cyber-universe of blogging.

So in keeping with the theme of my blog (seen in small letters at the very top of the page), and to combat this pervasive and inaccurate view of blogging, I would like to present, without fanfare, enthusiasm, or culturally sensitive ceremony, the rebuttal and actual refutation of the aforestated philosophy, simply by blogging something un-incredible. Towards this end I have created the following:

List A: Things I Would Like To Have (But Don't)
List B: Things I Am Glad To Have (And Do)
List C: Things I Am Glad Not To Have (And Don't); and
List D: Things I Am Annoyed To Have (But Do).

Please enjoy the mediocrity and boring-ness of these lists. Then, when you've read to the bottom of the page, please click on Next Blog at the top to return to your regularly scheduled profundity.

Things I Would Like To Have (But Don't):
Aviator sunglasses.
A BMW.
A wooden bookshelf.
An Ipod Color.
Knowledge of everything related to physics, astronomy, and gourmet cooking.
My own house or apartment, of course costing me zero dollars.
The ability to always see people's true intentions.
More money.
A dish of Rocky Road ice cream. Right now.

Things I Am Glad To Have (And Do):
The lunch I just ate which consisted of bright buttery peas and marinated chicken.
Friends who will give me hugs.
Plenty of music to listen to.
The squishy down comforter on my bed.
A Bible in my language.
My job and my kind and generous bosses.
The (developing) ability to communicate through writing.
Parents who are still alive and happily married to each other.
A stainless steel travel mug to call my own.
Developing skills of observance and inference.
Many, many books, a lot of them very old (hence the need for a bookshelf).

Things I Am Glad Not To Have (And Don't):
Siblings/parents who hate my guts.
A car that doesn't run, or that runs sporadically.
Yellow teeth.
A constant need for alcohol, drugs or tobacco.
A home devastated by hurricanes or tornadoes.
A blog that still says Edit-Me in the sidebar.
An annoying cell phone ringer.
A VCR.
Bad hand-washing habits.
A shared bedroom.

Things I Am Annoyed To Have (And Do):
A brother at the age of thirteen.
A constant desire to drink expensive coffee and flavored, bottled tea with symbols on the inside of the lid.
Ears that itch and turn puffy and crusty if I wear any earrings made from anything other than sterling silver or 14k gold.
Car, insurance, gas and cell phone payments.
An empty vase on my desk, constantly reminding me of a certain annoying person.
A cell phone that will fall apart any day now.
A general and powerful dislike of healthy food and exercise only for their own sake.
And that reminds me...of my strengthening desire for Rocky Road ice cream.

So the other day, I was at the Mill and I bought a bottle of tea.

I like this tea a lot...a LOT...but I'd rather it be sweetened. So I had this great idea. I went over to the "condiments bar," took the lid off my golden tea, and squirted enough honey in there to appease even the most insatiable sweet-tooth. I put the lid back on and shook it up, really good. Went back, sat down at my seat, and realized the tea was really cold, and the honey had stuck to the bottom. I held it up to the light and it shimmered in this huge golden glob. I thought about writing a poem about it. (Just kidding, really.) Sigh, but no matter, I'll shake it some more. No results. I figured after the tea warmed up a little, the honey would dissolve like it's supposed to. So I set the bottle upside-down on the table to let it mix around. But it never did.

I suddenly decided to drink my tea unsweetened, and I did, and it was, except for the last tablespoon or so which was scandalously sugary. All these minutae are necessary facts to create context for my funny thing. (wait for it...Wait for it!) When I looked over at my precariously-balanced upside-down bottle of tea, I let my eyes travel across the room in the same direction. They landed on this guy who was sitting and just staring at my tea bottle with a perplexed look on his face. Then I realized how completely ridiculous it must look, and that is the reason for my sudden judgment that the stupid bottle of tea would be tolerable just the way it was.

Where I'm At

Where I'm at is the Mill. This is one of my favorite places to sit with my (dad's) laptop and reconnect with the world after a stuffy afternoon of office work. It's a little out of my way, but I like it enough that the distance isn't a problem.

It's big enough to keep people from breathing in your ears, and small enough to be cozy. The ceiling is made of wood scaffolding. The lighting, supplemented with the real light coming in from the front window, is un-classy in a pleasant way, with a few bare-bulb clusters tucked behind the planks. There are lots of real trees and plants in the big front window to filter the sunlight and make it look like (at the right time of day) a green stained-glass masterpiece, the chairs all creak and most of the tables wobble, and there is free wi-fi. There is also a fake airplane hanging from the ceiling. There's no theme to this place, apart from coffee and old, creaky things. (I like old, creaky things.) A huge air-conditioning vent in the floor will blast icy air up onto you if you walk over it in summer.

In this earthy little hole I've surfed the obscure corners of the internet, blabbed on my phone with friends across the country, been on semi-dates which from my perspective should not have ever happened, read Hemingway and Shakespeare and my Neocon Reader and my Bible, people-watched, met with countless friends, eaten McDonald's food and donuts from across the street, and completed two years' worth of community college homework.

Today isn't incredibly different, except that two British men, in suits and funny little straw hats came in a few minutes ago. They are very cute old men and I bet they have canes they use most of the time. I would descrive them as funny, although you might not call them funny. But that doesn't bother me, because you are probably the same people who walk around in Ipod-world and stare at the concrete sidewalk instead of looking your real, fellow human beings in the eye. Then you probably go home and cry that no one understands you and that you are so completely, utterly alone in this cruel universe.

Anyways: Tomorrow I'll be playing my guitar in front of a group for the first time! I'm pretty new to the guitar world but I love my guitar and will have to post more about its beauty later. :)

I'd be surprised if anyone actually read all that! Later, friends and strangers!

The Inherent Optimism of (Most) Cynicism

This wasn't a bad day by any standard, or at least by most standards. Nothing incredibly good or incredibly bad happened, and I won't subject you to any tedious, yawn-inducing narratives.

So on to other subjects. I'll be blunt: I'm a cynic. To me, the glass of water isn't just half empty, but I don't even like water in the first place. I enjoy finding the bad side of situations and the logical faults in arguments; I've been told I'd make a great prosecuting attorney. This characteristic singles me out when I'm surrounded by those annoying perky unrealistic optimists (making it great for parties). But while it comes quite naturally, I'm also a cynic on purpose. Like a news reporter who singles out the negative and the preposterous and the provocative, I think that when I decide to say something negative, it's only because it's out of the ordinary. Think about it: when you choose to report the negative, you're implying that the negative is what's newsworthy, or un-ordinary. You're saying that good things are more common than bad ones. So it's actually quite an optimistic philosophy. I can't speak for anyone else but, when I say I'm a "cynic", I actually mean something different than a "pessimist".

So, in the spirit of positive news reporting, I have made a non-exhaustive list of things that irritate me, enrage me, and are generally not excellent things. They're not in order. Some are trivial, some are serious. Some have proper names and addresses. ;) But they all succeed in making our world a worse overall place to live.

• Businesses (especially gas stations) that feel the need to change the spelling of their names to royally lame variations like "Kids Korner" or "Kwik Shop" or "Kum'N'Go."
  
• Bird poop on my car.
• The U.N.
• That the Ipod Nano replaces the Mini but is more expensive.
• That the Ipod Nano doesn't come in cool metallic colors.
• That I can't, at this point in my life, justify the purchase of a Nano or a Mini.
• When people give you way too much information you don't need.
• When people don't give you the information you do need.
• That most celebrities like Kanye West can't even put together a coherent sentence unless it's scripted.
• That some people think Kanye West and Cher have legitimate, well-thought, thoroughly researched political views.
• That I have to assure people I'm not racist if I make a negative statement about Kanye West.
• That I probably won't ever be a millionaire.
• That Hugo Chavez is still around.
• The U.N.
  
• Bad drivers who sit in the fast lane going the exact same speed as the car in the slow lane.
• When they sit in your blind spot.
• Pretty much whenever they decide to get behind the wheel.
• When you try to get a piece of meat from a round plastic package and you can't get it out without squishing the meat all around and getting chunks of it under your fingernail.
  
• People who think spanking will ruin their children.
• Teachers who refuse to use red and who call a lazy failing student "success deferred."
• People who think most homeschoolers sit in their basement and learn from scrolls and are socially inept.
• Postage stamps that say "LOVE" for no apparent reason.
• That there will always be a better camera, somewhere.
• Greedy corrupted politicians who rob the poor by using international aid funding for themselves.
  
• Greedy corrupted politicians who rob the rich by taxing them more and penalizing them for hard work and success.
• People who are convinced that Beanie Babies will be worth thousands, nay, millions of dollars someday.
• That I have three bags full of Beanie Babies which I was formerly convinced would be worth thousands, nay, millions of dollars someday.
• Thirteen-year-old boys.
• Thirteen-year-old girls.
• Out-of-tune guitars.
• People who travel to Texas and sit in a ditch to try to make a difference in the world.

Wow. That's more of a list than I intended to make. So it just goes to show how good the world really is. toodles.

Perpetual Construction (Ctrl+Z is my friend!)

So I'm becoming vaguely aware of a few little html tricks which are helping to drastically alter the appearance of this, my little corner of cyberspace (which I suppose was one point of this blog, anyways -- to learn some HTML). I feel so...empowered! And the possibilities are infinite. But the only thing is, I've never read or been taught anything about how to alter html templates...so it's pretty much hit-and-miss. So if something looks strange--if margins are off-center, colors aren't quite corresponding, borders are uneven, links don't work--just bear with me, check back later, and trust me that I know how dumb it looks! :)

Cuteness Award

Today's Cuteness Award goes to my 7-year old sister. I came home pretty late last night and for some reason, she was still up and walking around. She followed me into my room, grinning and asking "Do you notice anything different in here?" She pointed to a piece of white paper taped to the side of my desk so it was kind of falling off the side. In the awkward, chubby handwriting of a seven year old, it said, "yOU are the CoOOOlEst." She gave me a sheepish smile that asked whether I liked her letter. I gave her a big hug (the thing she likes most in the whole world) and sent her to bed.

It's the times like that which make me happy I still live at home. (I will remember this next time two different songs are coming from the piano at the same time and people are wrestling outside the door and the phone is ringing and so is the doorbell and K-LOVE is blasting from the kitchen and there are 19 kids in the house.)

Next: a post which will contain a minimum amount of sappiness.

Roses & Fountains

Today...was a good day. This week has been good to me overall, with only a few minor hiccups, so nothing much to complain about. Here's my Main Hiccup of the Week: this guy (who works down the hall) giving me an otherwise lovely rose to have at my desk. What a sicko, he's at least a decade older than me! But, it was a nice flower, and it smelled good, so I kept it. But I had to look at it for seven hours a day, several days in a row...just wondering when he'll pop his soon-to-be graying head into the office and propose (or something else just as hideous).

What is it with flowers, anyways? I admit, I'm a sucker for the things. They're pretty, and most of them smell pretty too. So there's nothing not to like, right? But what annoyed me about this whole thing, apart from the scandalous age difference, is that I'd already turned him down. Ta-wice. And he thinks bringing me one flower is going to change my mind?! I guess to be fair he gets points for persistence. But how dumb do I look??

Enough of old men and their stupid roses! *shudders* Like I said, the week was good to me. I had a job interview in another senator's office, and while I don't have a lot of warm fuzzies about the way it went, my overall job security just went to 100% because my boss in my current office has offered to hire me full time, for good (if I don't get this other position). Yay!

Tonight I went to the fountains at the Union and saw a concert...well, three songs of a concert, anyways. It had something to do with Elvis; that's all I remember. Rashelle and I had a good time taking pictures of ourselves though, and I got some cool shots of the fountain at night. I'm trying to put them up but I'm not having any luck thus far!

Hero's Cousin

While my MSN Space did give birth to this blog, I'm writing this young one as if it's brand new. So for those who read my Space, you'll notice a resemblance. But it's all in the family, and parents often name their children after themselves. Anyways, it was about time for MSN's Furious Tale to be come everyone's Furious Tale! And now the whole world is my audience.

Or, as seen from the eyes of a thoughtful twentysomething, the world's really more like a stage. Shakespeare was the first to say "the whole world's a stage", but that quote has lost its shimmer by being plastered on the backs of countless high school drama-club t-shirts. But it's quite the new perspective when you look at everyone else as actors. And everyone is, to some extent or another. The strange part is, everyone knows everyone else is acting. But we all act as if we don't think they are acting. So we're all actors, twice. And this is part of what makes life so very funny.

Seems fitting to use Shakespeare in my first post, eh? Well, it's happened once before, and it's not a coincidence. For some reason, The Bard always seems to come skipping merrily into my mind whenever I try to think of something quirky or philosophical or otherwise interesting to say. Anyways, my shiny new title pays homage to a character in one of his plays. It's a little cryptic, I know. But I gave enough of a hint. (When you do figure out what it means, I promise it gives quite the walk in my shoes.)

Yep, this is me, live from the heart of America. Nothing fancy or pretentious on this blog...we'll get to that later, I promise. :) Next: my first "regular" post!