Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Good mornings all around.

Dear Globlets,

Boy, do I not envy PZ... The Cause of Morris: Pharyngula

I enjoy his writing.

In other news: This morning I awoke to cramps, followed by hiccoughs, and then sour milk and semi-old ham. Yay! Let's hope the afternoon has something better in store. I'm leaving the mainland today, so whatever happens, at the end of the day I will have a Lucy (as vicious as she may be), a mommy (as vicious as she may be*) and MY bed (as vicious as it may be, but I look forward to being entrapped, consumed and devoured by it).

*My mommy is not vicious.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

I like this 21:

Dear Globlets,

I like four things today:

"Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day. Give a fish a man, and he'll eat for weeks!"
- Takayuki Ikkaku, Arisa Hosaka and Toshihiro Kawabata

"I prefer the company of peasants because they have not been educated sufficiently to reason incorrectly."
- Michel de Montaigne

"People ask for criticism, but they only want praise."
- W. Somerset Maugham

"Taco" has of late taken on a sexual connotation. When referring to the Tex-Mex food dish, instead use "Hot, Meat-Filled Tortilla Vagina."
- Fake AP Stylebook

Monday, June 28, 2010

Das fun.

Dear Globlets,

Butts in the fast lane:

Puro, Chile...!

Dear Globlets,

I will now sing Chile's national anthem.



That's all I know. I'm going to go watch them get their asses kicked by Brazil. I mean! I'm going to go watch them try to not get their asses kicked by Brazil.

Puro, Chile, es tu cielo azulado,
Puras brisas te cruzan también,
Y tu campo de flores bordado
Es la copia feliz del Edén.
Majestuosa es la blanca montaña
Que te dio por baluarte el Señor,
Y ese mar que tranquilo te baña
Te promete futuro esplendor.

Dulce Patria, recibe los votos
Con que Chile en tus aras juró
Que o la tumba serás de los libres
O el asilo contra la opresión.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Parties Sans Groove.

Dear Globlets,

I now know why I... I don't really like... Parties are strange. Sometimes when I think about why I don't like parties I can't think of a good reason other than the fact that I wish not to get shitfaced, unlike the majority of party-goers. Somehow, the idea of throwing up, passing out, hurting myself (or others), and saying/doing stupid things while my judgment is severely impaired, does not appeal to me, especially if I won't remember any of it the following day. I totally get why teens party like that, though.

Actually, I don't.

The party I'm going to talk about was not a drunk-person-infested party, however. In fact, there were no conversations that started with, "Hi. Yeeerrrr preetttyy. What. What do you like? What. Yerr prettyyy." Instead, conversations started with, "I haven't seen you in a while. What are you up to these days?" Naturally, I told people about college and work. My grandma sometimes piped in that I was here (on the mainland) on business. Sometimes people would dig deeper and ask, "Oh? What are you doing?" and I would explain to them that I'm a research assistant working for UBC. I feel a little embarrassed when I say this; I'm worried that it sounds too good. "What are you researching?" At this point, my tongue fumbles around inside my mouth and my lips sometimes allow muffled sounds to escape into the air now full of anticipation. Or is it expectation? Eventually I would remember to breathe and would figure out which language to speak with these alien, or not-so-alien, beings.

The spiel begins: "The environmental standards for soil are under evaluation and they're revising the protocols for when they assess for contaminated soil, so we're doing a survey to help us with this." Even though that doesn't really make any sense, it's what I mumbled and it shut people up. I don't know why I don't practice something ahead of time, like I do when I call people or leave voicemails. I should say "We're conducting a survey regarding the types of outdoor environments children who are between the ages of 18 months and 6 years spend time in," but I'm only that eloquent on paper, when I'm reading it out, when I've practiced it, or when I'm comfortable. When I have eight eyes fixed on me that I'm absolutely positive have laser beams within them, I don't feel comfortable. And, for the life of me, I can't make that sentence sound better. The "spend time in" is... quite far from the "children." *sigh*

Work is easier than school. "Are you going to school? Weren't you homeschooled?" Then I say yes, but I'm going to college right now. Nobody on the mainland recognizes Camosun so I tell them I plan to go to UVic afterwards. This is the easy part: "What will you be studying?" Creative writing. "Oh! You want to be a writer!" Sometimes people ask me what I want to write and that's tricky. I don't know if I want to write screenplays, poetry, novels, or if I want to be a journalist. That's why I'm going to college: to learn about things I'm interested in. The "How are you going to make money?" question is tough to answer and I don't have an answer to give. I don't know yet. I'm 18, so I'm so sorry that even though I do know what direction I want to go in, I still have no solid idea of what I want to do with my life.

Of the few young adults who have a "definite" plan of what they want to do in life, how many do you think actually follow through?

Many times I'll have to get into The Dreaded Homeschooling Conversation. It's so popular that I've had to capitalize it. This time I had to stand up for the sane homeschoolers, i.e. NOT Christian homeschoolers or the lazy ones. "I know a guy who was homeschooled. He has never partied before, he has never drunk, and he has no social skills whatsoever. When he goes to parties now that he's in university, he's such an awkward guy. He doesn't do anything." I'm not going to lie. There are homeschoolers that really make you wonder how they will make it in the real world. Then again, how many high school graduates are ready for the real world? I know people in all three home/un-school categories: the Christians, the deadbeats and the curious ones. Guess which ones make it in the real world.

Most, if not all people who commented/liked this status is/was a home/un-schooler.

Before we go any further, I want to explain that this party wasn't so bad, but I've found myself in these situations at parties in the past. Nobody asked me how I'm going to make money this time around, thankfully.

Also, I'm not even going to bother with the pre-party matters.

I'm listening to Abba. I might not have the most... ordinary taste in music for a girl of my age in this decade. I mean, I love disco (unlike most of the people I know) but at least disco is dance-to-able, whereas the trash you hear on the radio has nothing but a beat that, if you're lucky, is just barely foot-tapping material. They call it "dance music" but unless you're gangsta and have been practicing your crotch-grabbing, you might as well stand in the corner and try to determine which THUMP to tap your foot to. If it's not gangsta-music, then you're left to jump. Playing music you have to jump to music at a birthday party where the age range is 3-85, the majority of the people over 30 and with a glass of wine in one hand, is not a good idea. If you want people to dance, you have to pick the right music. It isn't always easy but it can be done if you try. Otherwise, some fun, upbeat, softish music would be fine and it would probably agree with most people's taste in music, especially if the crowd is diverse.

It's really the explanations of "what I'm doing now" and "how I got here" that kill me at parties... That and the smalltalk. Or maybe it's when there's an awkward silence after you've discussed something and you are left to spin the beverage in your glass, take a sip, stare at your feet, glance at the food, fix your dress, smile at the people, pretend you're thinking, pretend you're calm, pretend you remember their names, pretend this awkward silence is okay, pretend like you give a shit about what they're "up to these days." There's a lot of pretending. Or maybe it's when you're done pretending and you're looking for a way out. Or when you are distracted by another party-goer who wants to talk to you and you leave the awkward post-smalltalk silence lingering behind you. Or maybe it's when you have to fart but everyone is singing "Happy Birthday" and you just can't leave at that point in time. After the cake, after the presents. After the cake, after the presents.


Speaking of which, who's coming to my 19th?

As relatively painless as this party was, it was dull. There is a cure for dull parties. Instead of letting people disperse into groups so they mingle only with a handful of invitees, something should be done to bring them all together. Something should be done to break the ice between the groups. Something like games. Board games and other party games should be provided and played. Simple, right? This is all I have to say about it. Look how short this paragraph is, the solution, compared with the other ones. Amazing.

This globulation is not my way of saying, "Don't ever invite me to parties." It is actually saying, "Don't invite me to boring parties where I'm forced to make smalltalk with people I don't know or haven't seen since I was a child and where I'll be unprepared and uncomfortable." Somehow I don't think this is the last of this kind of party for me. I did well. I really did. Except when I talked about work. Oh well.
'Til next time! Because everybody has birthdays... usually once every year.

I fucking love this song.

For the record, just because you listen to 70s music doesn't mean you should dance like they did in the 70s.

Friday, June 25, 2010

I like this 20:

Dear Globlets,

I like this:

"Illegal aliens have always been a problem in the United States. Ask any Indian."
- Robert Orben

and really like this:

“If a man maketh his sandwich with Miracle Whip, as he maketh it with mayo, he has committed an abomination: surely he shall be put to death and his sandwich tossed upon him.”


Dear Globlets,

I watched this video, titled "Driving Driving Driving," on Idzie's Blog:

I really liked it. Maybe if we were allowed to get hysterical sometimes, we would stand up for what's right. Maybe we'd gain a better understanding of the consequences of the stupid things we do. Maybe we wouldn't be so afraid of what might be, but afraid of what is instead, and therefore more likely to do something about it. Why shouldn't we get hysterical? A little bit of hysteria in the world might help us put things in perspective. I think a little hysteria might do us some good. I'd rather be aware of all the bad stuff than live ignorantly in bliss. I'd rather be aware of it and work towards a happy planet than live ignorantly, thinking it already is happy.

The way we're living right now isn't working.

More on this topic later...

Thursday, June 24, 2010

In Praise of AngieTheAntiTheist

Dear Globlets,

I really enjoy Angie's videos and blogging. She's very intelligent, reasonable, and genuine. Apparently, a few Creationists deconverted after watching this video:

I think it's pretty powerful. Her words feel real. Even to a religious person, what she says makes sense and I can see how it would manage to penetrate.

See minute 6:20 especially.

"The first time I held [my son] in my arms, I just looked at this tiny, perfect, squashed little human being and I couldn't imagine that he was sinful. I couldn't imagine that he deserved hell or death. I couldn't imagine that a god could create something so beautiful, so pure and wonderful, and let it go bad."

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Get Dreaming.

Dear Globlets,

When I am 30 years old I would like to be frozen. As in, put in an icecube until further notice. And by further notice I mean I wish to be defrosted when the world has evolved from religion. I think that would be nice. I think I would like to see what the world is like religion-free. I would like to see people quenching their thirsty curiosity. I would like to see churches put to better use, i.e. education/research centres, libraries, internet cafes, ice cream parlours. I would like to see intelligent minds put to better use, regardless of income. I would like to see women dressing how they please and without fear. I would like to see people loving who they wish to love and not being humiliated, harmed, or killed for it. I would like to see people speaking their minds and not dying for it.

I would like to be able to think of these things as realities, not as far-fetched, unrealistic, unattainable, Utopian dreams. As John Lennon as this sounds, although I'm a dreamer, and not the only one, as more people join in the dreaming, we'll create a new reality.

I think the heat is getting to me.

Oh. I changed my mind. As nice as it would be to freeze myself until Reason triumphs so I could live in a lovely and livable world, it's a bit of a dick-move for a human. I don't want to go live in the future, I want to be a part of creating it. Let's just hope we don't all kill each other first. :)

Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go sing Kumbaya and hold hands with some very friendly people.


I like this 19:

Dear Globlets,

I like this:
"Sanity is a madness put to good use."
- George Santayana

Even though I think I might have posted this before, I still like this the second time around:

"I bought a cactus. A week later it died. And I got depressed, because I thought, Damn. I am less nurturing than a desert."
- Demetri Martin

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Yellow polka-dot bikini-wearing god to save our sorry asses.

Dear Globlets,

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart has once again inspired me to share something with you.
The episode that inspired me was aired on June 16th, 2010. In case you are unaware of the itty-bitty, teensie-weensie, yellow polka-dot oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, well, there's a very minor, tiny oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico! It's only endangering the lives of everything it comes in contact with.

Last week, President Obama suggested that we do something, that we take action! That we don't just sit around in a room praying for the big SkyDaddy to swoop down with a giant sieve that would magically separate the oil from the water...! Oh wait, that's exactly what he did.

After hearing his speech on what he plans to do and what he suggests the rest of us do in the face of a puny, pipsqueak of an oil spill, I remembered what Digital Cuttlefish brilliantly wrote in a recent blog post:

"Give God A Mop

Omniscient God must need a nudge
To see the oil, the tar, the sludge—
Or Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Don’t give a damn about the coast.

State senators proclaim this day
A time to join our hands and pray
Since “nothing works”, that’s what we’ll try—
We’ll all do nothing, you and I.

We’ll act as if the problem’s solved
By simply getting God involved,
And feel as if we played a part
By doing squat, with all our heart.

And as for those whose faith is weak,
Who clean the beaches, while we speak
With God? We know, and time will tell,
That God will send them straight to hell

So drop your shovels, drop your bags,
Your pelicans and soapy rags—
Acknowledge God is in control
And save the beach… and save your soul!


Know that God does not exist;
Won’t help us if His Ass gets kissed
So leave the senators to shirk,
Roll up your sleeves, and get to work."

Monday, June 21, 2010

Brainz are for pros.

Dear Globlets,

Holy shit! Another post. It's short, though.

I just said, "Come with a walk for us" instead of "Come for a walk with us."

Brainz are for pros.

Article on Un/Homeschooling.

Dear Globlets,

Even though it's written in Comic Sans, this is the best article on unschooling I've ever read:
... and people ask me why I was homeschooled!

Here's an excerpt from the article:

Inglis breaks down the purpose - the actual purpose - of modem schooling into six basic functions, any one of which is enough to curl the hair of those innocent enough to believe the three traditional goals listed earlier:

1) The adjustive or adaptive function. Schools are to establish fixed habits of reaction to authority. This, of course, precludes critical judgment completely. It also pretty much destroys the idea that useful or interesting material should be taught, because you can't test for reflexive obedience until you know whether you can make kids learn, and do, foolish and boring things.

2) The integrating function. This might well be called "the conformity function," because its intention is to make children as alike as possible. People who conform are predictable, and this is of great use to those who wish to harness and manipulate a large labor force.

3) The diagnostic and directive function. School is meant to determine each student's proper social role. This is done by logging evidence mathematically and anecdotally on cumulative records. As in "your permanent record." Yes, you do have one.

4) The differentiating function. Once their social role has been "diagnosed," children are to be sorted by role and trained only so far as their destination in the social machine merits - and not one step further. So much for making kids their personal best.

5) The selective function. This refers not to human choice at all but to Darwin's theory of natural selection as applied to what he called "the favored races." In short, the idea is to help things along by consciously attempting to improve the breeding stock. Schools are meant to tag the unfit - with poor grades, remedial placement, and other punishments - clearly enough that their peers will accept them as inferior and effectively bar them from the reproductive sweepstakes. That's what all those little humiliations from first grade onward were intended to do: wash the dirt down the drain.

6) The propaedeutic function. The societal system implied by these rules will require an elite group of caretakers. To that end, a small fraction of the kids will quietly be taught how to manage this continuing project, how to watch over and control a population deliberately dumbed down and declawed in order that government might proceed unchallenged and corporations might never want for obedient labor.


[I might have used this image before, but I felt it was appropriate...]

Dear Globlets,

Thanks to Facebook I am able to see parts of my friends' worlds - worlds I am very much not a part of - and it's strange. Mostly, I refer to the friends I made at NBTSC They all live in the USA except for a handful of Vancouverites (we're not very close) and Fi and me.

2006 was, by far, my best year at camp. I was part of a group that always hung out. It was something I'd never experienced before but always wanted to. In that group with me were Kay, Chris, Jessie and Nick. We all lost touch even though we're friends on Facebook and had MySpace prior to FB. Kay was my best friend for quite a while, but shit happened, life happened, and we don't talk very much or as easily as we used to. In addition, I met D that year. At camp we regularly stayed up until around 3AM talking. When he returned to California and I returned to BC, we kept in touch. We could still talk like we did at camp, and even when we stopped talking for a couple of months, we came back just as able to talk late into the night. I loved talking to him, but again, life happened - mine, his, then mine again, and finally his. That was it.

Each camp session has 100+ish campers so I've met a lot of very interesting people over the years. I know some campers better than I know others and I wish I was able to get to know them even more. However, they have lives. Sometimes I forget this. Any chance I get, I let my American friends know that they can come up to the Great White North to visit me (even if I'm not in the Northernmost, Whitest patch of Greatness). Although I'm not in Vancouver any more, my grandparents live there and it would be no trouble at all for me to go to the mainland and see my fellow camp-friends if they were disinclined to travel slightly farther West. Even so, lately, a few friends have been venturing up North to visit the Vancouverite campers. The Vancouverites don't mention it, the Americans don't mention it, only Facebook does. It doesn't hurt me as much as it does distance me, but I feel a little sad too. They don't think of it, they don't think of me, but that's okay. After all, maybe they're really much closer with the Vancouverite campers than they are with me.

It's easy for the Minnesotans to stay friends, it's easy for Seattleites to stay friends, but it's still easy for some who don't live in the same state. Is Vancouver taboo? Does the border between the US and Canada interfere with telephone lines and internet connections? Or is it me? Did they actually become really good friends at camp when I wasn't looking?

It doesn't really matter, but it makes me think and it makes me envious. I want to have friends like they do.

Living on an island, even if it is but a ferry-ride from the mainland, seems to make people think I live on another planet. It takes 2.5 hours to get from my house to someone on the mainland's. Maybe the body of water separating the two land masses interferes with telephone lines and internet connections. The kind of communication we/I have with people on the mainland can be described as second-degree forgetfulness. Third-degree forgetfulness, the most severe, applies to those living in another country. First-degree forgetfulness, although less severe, is actively present in the relationships I have with people on the island. So, what happens?

What causes relationships to fade? What causes friends to forget that you exist and that you care about them? I faced this when I moved from White Rock to Vancouver, then again when I moved here from Vancouver, and even now that I've stayed in the same town for several years.

The fact that life happens is the only explanation, I think. People move on. They graduate, they go to school, they get jobs, they move, and in the process, they make other friends. It's probably harder for me because, although my memory can be complete rubbish sometimes, when it comes to friends, I don't forget them. That's probably my biggest problem. That, and the fact that finding somebody with whom I have things in common has proven to be a tricky task.

That's where college comes in. I've made some friends here recently but we don't have that much in common. As my mom reminded me, once I start taking regular courses, courses in the field I wish to get into, I'll be seeing the same people around campus because we'll be interested in the same things. Therefore, I'll be meeting people I share common interests with. That's my best bet for making friends I can actually talk to. Maybe then I'll be able to focus on those friends, when I'm not focusing on my schoolwork, and I'll have less time to think about the friends I no longer have.

I think my idea of a friend doesn't always match up with my friends' idea of a friend. I'm calling them my friends when they're really not. They're nice people. I met them, I talked to them a little, I like them, but we don't talk or hang out on a regular basis. I can't count on them; I can't go to them when I'm in trouble. They're more acquaintances than they are friends but I don't like calling them acquaintances because I would rank them higher than a friend of a friend I met once or twice. They're halfway between an acquaintance and a friend. They're not good friends, they're not bad friends, and they're certainly not best friends.

Hoping people I know will become my good friends is unrealistic, I know, and I can't expect campers to remember that I, too, live in BC when they come up to visit the Vancouverites. I cannot be disappointed in people who move on just because I remember our friendships. However, I'm not going to close any doors or burn any bridges because I don't believe in doing that; it's never beneficial. There are few exceptions. My door will always be open for new friends - whether they're good, not-bad, or the best - and for old friends - if/when they remember I exist and wish to be a part of my life again, even though I never expect that to happen.

I'm going to get even more metaphoric on you now...

I may see the distant worlds of friends through my Facebook-telescope, and I may be envious of the clusters of friends they're a part of, but who is to say I don't have a gravitational pull of my own? I might just be a single floating object wandering through space and time, but I'm dynamic and magnetic just like the other objects floating around me. Just because my composition is dissimilar to many of the other objects doesn't mean there aren't other, equally different objects out there that I share similarities with.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go wander and float around some more... right after I check my Facebook.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

My preferred form of communication...

And now for something completely different!

Dear Globlets,

You're being bombarded with globulations. Maybe it will spark an increase of globlets.

I love Sesame Street.

To grow a pair, or not to grow a pair...

Dear Globlets,

I'm trying to write my dad an e-mail. I'm crying. I'm trying to tell him about the shitty financial situation my mom has been put in along with the emotional and financial effects that his decision to leave the country will have on us. Us. You know, his family, the two kids he hardly knows. Oh yeah, us, right. The idea of my dad leaving really upsets my brother because the kid is worried about how much, and when, he'll see his dad. That's pretty justified, I think. I'm concerned about the financial aspect, though it's not my only concern.

He's 50. He's going to run off to Chile leaving his kids and responsibilities behind. Lucky guy. What the fuck? What the fuck. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. Without the $1500 he pays in Child Support every month + the extra $1000/mo somebody else wants from us is... hard to swallow. He should know what he's doing but I don't think he does. I have to tell him. I have to tell him I'm pissed off with him, that Adrian is upset, that he's putting us in a really shitty financial position, that retiring at 50 when he has two kids going to school full time (high school & university) is irresponsible and will harm what little there is left of the relationships he has with his children. I have to spell it out for him. Why do I always have to spell things out? "The stupid things you're doing are bad. Maybe you shouldn't do them."

So, what's the problem?
The problem is, I can't say it. I'm crying because I think of how he's going to respond to what I've said. I can't stand the thought of him being sad or angry or hurt... even though that's how he's made us feel so many times. I'd almost prefer to pretend he doesn't exist, but it makes me sad to think he'd miss me if I ignored him.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I don't know if anything I end up saying will make him think twice. But I do know that I hate how he's made Adrian feel, and I can't sit here pretending it's okay. It's not okay.

Dad, your leaving, your retiring, is not okay. If you're not going to be there for us emotionally, at least be there for us financially.

I have no balls. Do I suck it up and let him have it? Or do I quietly wait for the shitstorm?

Well, when I put it like that...

First last class of first second-last upgrading class.

Dear Globlets,

This is how my first last class of my first, second last upgrading class at college went down:

Just kidding! But it is over. :) Next one in July! I'm registering for Fall courses on Friday. Scary scary.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Comic Sans

Dear Globlets,

And now for something completely different!

Stolen from Pharyngula

PS. It was supposed to be something completely different after the "Man-Eater" post... but I started that one a few days ago so it placed it differently than I'd intended. It's still different.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

I like this 18:

Dear Globlets,

I like these:

Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body.
- Sir Richard Steele

Computers make it easier to do a lot of things, but most of the things they make it easier to do don't need to be done.
- Andy Rooney

Friday, June 11, 2010


Dear Globlets,

B: A very long time ago, I had a relationship with a guy who was exactly the kind of guy who a girl of my age should not go for. We met online, he lived on the other side of the country, he was much older than me, he was into military business and had some serious family issues. Maybe I just wanted to cram all those experiences together and get it over and done with (even though my next two relationships started online and were long-distance). B and I started off as friends. We talked for hours. I think we were friends for two years and then "boyfriend-girlfriend" for one more. I'm not sure if that's the right amount of time because it's strange to think I could spend so many years talking to him. He was never a threat to me and he was a decent enough kid. Kid... I was 14; he was 19-20. Yeah... Yeah. He came to visit for a week, which was awkward and weird but ended up okay. After his visit, I went to NBTSC and when I came back, I broke up with him.

Once we were more than friends, the relationship started to go sour. He was extremely obsessive and possessive, which, of course, was not healthy for either of us. I don't remember much, but I suppose it might have been that I had to step up, be the mature one and end it. I don't like to include him in my "list of boyfriends" because we didn't really date. We talked to each other obsessively until I had enough of it, but I was called his girlfriend and he was my boyfriend, so I need to include him here.

"List of boyfriends" makes me sound quite whorish, so be aware that all my relationships have lasted 6+ months. =p

Sh: A couple of years later, I met someone else - also online but in a much more respectable environment. He was taking courses with FVDES along with me. FVDES has a program with which you can talk to other students and e-mail people. I thought Sh was interesting. I thought he was funny and smart, he was often well-dressed and he had something to him that really drew me. He was nice. We became friends. A few months later, after I awkwardly met him at his uncle's wedding, we decided to date (against the approval of his father). Once his father found out we hooked up, he began restricting Sh so much that he had to sneak out to meet me at 7/6AM. It was exciting, I'll admit. The relationship was long distance as well, so the restrictions made it much harder. Soon things began to worsen for Sh and he found himself unable to live in such a controlled environment any more. (Who could blame him?) We offered him somewhere to stay until he made other plans and he ended up staying for four months. That was too much for me. The entire situation was bad for our relationship, thus I ended it.

Sh was my friend, we hooked up, it didn't work, I ended it. We weren't on good terms for a while, but luckily that's changed now.

Sp: I once had a friend who I (surprise, surprise) met online through FVDES. He was fun and smart, and I enjoyed talking to him so much that we frequently stayed up late talking. I could tell him anything. He gave me really good advice that helped me through some shit. He was an asshole and I liked it. The no-bullshit attitude was refreshing. He made me feel good. He'll tell you that it was I who said "I love you" first, so all the "goodnight my love[s]", "I wub you[s]," and "<3 joo[s]" he would always say to me must not have counted. I wanted to be friends with him after we broke up because I really, genuinely liked the guy and I thought it was a shame to have him disappear from my life. After I read the things he said about me, however, having mainly reduced our 11 month relationship to "the sex was great," I started thinking about how we got to that point. When did it become just sex? When did it become "Just take your clothes off"? I investigated.

I looked through the chat histories of some early conversations we had and they were really great. I was laughing as I read and I thought we were so awesome back then. I guess that's why I got sad. I missed those conversations; it had been a long time since we had a decent conversation which, apparently, is my fault because conversations are one-way streets, naturally. I wanted to stay friends with him because I liked him, but remembering what he said to me after we broke up made me realize that he's not the kind of person I should be friends with. It is not healthy to be around someone so willing and capable of saying the kinds of things he said. I suppose that's what happens when you hear(read) what you want to hear(read). He's no longer trying to get in my pants, and, according to him, that's the only place he ever wanted to go, so why be nice if you're not going to get laid for it, right?

He seems to think I maliciously planned the breakup because I did it so soon after he visited, which is absolute bullocks because I had no idea if/when I was going to do it. I didn't sit in my dungeon at night plotting the best, most harmful way to end it, honestly. I wasn't happy, though, and he wasn't either since he "would have ended it soon even though vagina had been blinding [him]." I'd been thinking about ending it, yes, but I'd had doubts for a while already, as did he, I'm sure. The sex probably prevented me from doing it sooner too; that and the pain I was afraid to cause him. I was terrified of leaving because I knew what would happen.

At the rowing regatta I attended, I found myself thinking about Sp. I became very sad and I even almost cried, right up until I realized he probably wouldn't have been very supportive anyway. I remembered how shitty he made me feel when he said I couldn't do the Research Assistant job I was offered because I'm not good on the phone and I "sound like a 12 year-old." I've been working as a research assistant since January. I remembered how he never really supported me in anything, and then I was glad he wasn't there with me.

Instead of having his insecurities fade away over time, it felt like they were becoming more and more present. I understand where the insecurities came from: past relationships, past women who have done him ungood. However, it was not fair of him to think that I would do anything like they did and it was not fair to be constantly compared to or reminded of them, even when they weren't being discussed. I never was, and am still not, them. I am me, but he must have gotten confused about that at some point. I realize that a lot of the people he knew were unable to take care of themselves, or so he said, and he had to take of them. He had to make sure they were okay. He had to... they... I wonder if he was asked to, if he really had to, and what made him think I was "they." He created self-fulfilling prophecies out of his insecurities, which I do believe I warned him about. Worrying about me leaving him just pushed me away. It made me question whether he trusted me, for it really seemed like he didn't. It drove me nuts and it, consequently, drove me away.

Perhaps self-analysis would be more beneficial than the analysis of others.

I never wanted him to be my slave but he actually said he wanted to be. Afterwards, he said he'd found freedom in not having to text me all the time, in not having to talk to me every day and in not having to worry about me - as if it was my idea, as if I caused him to obsess over me. I never wanted that; he did. He said so. Lucy forbid I didn't reply to his text right away or I didn't come online without letting him know what I was doing instead. I mean, I could have been in trouble, getting raped, grocery shopping, or, hell, in the middle of something! The worst part about the texting was that I never knew how he was actually saying things. Was he kidding? Was that sarcasm? Is that a typo? This shit mattered.

I just realized that he was always worried about what I was doing, where I was doing it and who I was doing it with, yet he never told me about what he was doing even when I asked. "Nothing," was the typical reply. That really made me want to talk to him, share things with him, and hold a conversation. It also made me feel like he trusted me to make good decisions. Except not.

He treated me like a child; perhaps my size confused him. I told him how he made me feel, but it never stopped. He always made himself sound so much older than me, so much more mature, such a big man, such a protector. He did it when he commented on the "Boys" globulation I recently wrote. If I'm just like any other 18 year-old, then he's just like any other 19 year-old. And he is, regardless of what experiences he has under his belt that make him think he's that much wiser, bigger and better. Maybe his size confuses him. He spoke as though he knows me, as though he knows my mother, as though he knows everything about people, and as "good" as he usually is (good at profiling), he got it so wrong this time. He probably thinks otherwise. I said I was considering telling people I'm a lesbian so that guys who are interested in me would understand we'd only be friends and they wouldn't try to get in my pants. That's all. That's what I said. I didn't say I hate guys. I don't hate them. I know they can often be idiots, but I still enjoy their company. Girls can be idiots too. The point was, I don't want to be in a relationship right now. I don't want to lose more friends by getting romantically involved with them. He blew it out of proportion and had the nerve to publicly insult my mother too, which is something you never, ever do. Ever. Blacklisted.

Before I read anything he said about me, I was okay with how things ended even though I didn't really like it. I was okay because it went down pretty quietly. I was okay, but what he said made me angry and it made me sad. If he thought so little of me and of the relationship we were in, I wonder why he ever told me he loved me, especially so frequently. It made me sad when he turned things around because things didn't go his way. He took no responsibility. It was my fault. Everything. Always. He wasn't a contributor to the relationship. It was all me. I didn't talk to him. I didn't like it when he bought me expensive things because I'm a bitch, and not because I think money could be more wisely spent since it likes to play peek-a-boo: "Now you see me. Now you don't!" I didn't have a "freethinking mind"; thus, he had to enforce the "walk in straight lines" concept. I didn't have the ability to order food in restaurants so he always had to order for me. I could never make decisions about anything, so that responsibility was always left to him.

And that ^ , my globlets, is sarcasm...

Morals of the story: Don't get into long-distance relationships because they're never as good as short-distance ones and be prepared to lose a friend if you choose to become romantically involved with one. Also, just because he says he loves you doesn't mean that he really does or that you have to return the favour.

Size Oddity.

Dear Globlets,

A recent theory has been developed regarding the cause of my strangeness:

"It's your tiny-ness... compacting all the personality of a large person into a tiny one makes for some wierd results..." - Jessica Langley

Are we in favour?

And I'm sitting in my tin can... far above the moon...

Tuesday, June 8, 2010


Dear Globlets,

Boys. Maybe I should declare myself a lesbian to avoid them...

Why can't I just be friends with guys? And stay friends. All my men have first been my friends. Then we break up and I'm down a good friend. Also, do I have a giant neon OPEN sign on my forehead? Do I ooze desperation and loneliness from my eyeballs and my lips? My singleness is still fresh and I'm still enjoying it. So, boys... beat it.

Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it

They're out to get you, better leave while you can
Don't wanna be a boy, you wanna be a man
You wanna stay alive, better do what you can
So beat it, just beat it

But, you know, stay in touch and we'll chill sometime. That's all I want. Why is that so hard?

Contrary to popular belief, just because you want me doesn't mean you can get/have me.

Screw it, guys. I'm a lesbian! There! Tada! Dananananana can't touch this! -_-

The pursuit, the conquest, it's all gotten old. First it's like this and then it's like that and then it's over. So, come on. Impress me. But I'm going to be a lesbian for a while first, okay?

*tired sigh*

Monday, June 7, 2010

Never give up! Never surrender! - the pursuit of knowledge for the easy.

Dear Globlets,

As I was eating my home-made macaroni and cheese at lunch, I watched the June 2nd episode of The Daily Show. Morgan Freeman was Jon Stewart's guest. As you may or may not know, Morgan Freeman has been the narrator for many Science programs and movies. He is also the executive producer of an upcoming TV show called "Through the Wormhole," which also revolves around science. Because he seems to be drawn to things of science, I assumed he was an atheist.

Atheist –noun
a person who denies or disbelieves the existence of a supreme being or beings.

I cannot be sure if Jon Stewart is an atheist because he seems to be a very intelligent and rational person but he also makes remarks that make me think he believes in something. However, he could just be entertaining the idea without accepting it (something I will be doing a lot of in this post), but where he stands when it comes to religion isn't clear to me. As I began watching the clip, I thought Morgan Freeman seemed like a respectable individual who accepts evolution, favours scientific explanations, and, therefore, rejects religion. But to my surprise, Morgan Freeman is not an atheist. Right up until the end of the segment I was with him. Right up until he said, "Whatever scientists don't know becomes a god factor." That's where he lost me.

Why must we use a god to explain the unexplainable? Why are we so uncomfortable with the unknown? Why must we have answers to everything even if the ones we're offered are illogical and/or wrong? Why do illogical/wrong answers satisfy our curiosity? Why allow the knowledge of ourselves and the universe be limited to "good enough?"

God –noun
the one Supreme Being, the creator and ruler of the universe.
(It should say "the presumed supreme being lalalala that so, so and so believe in.")

Although he neither specified which god he believes in, nor did he mention religion, Morgan Freeman does appear to believe in a "Creator." This is where things get a little tricky. I will admit that it is possible there was a being that helped create some of the objects in space, such as our planet Earth. Does that make me a theist? No. I used the word "being" because if something (note: not someONE) created or helped create anything, it was not a god and it really doesn't give a shit what we do on Earth. It was not omniscient, it was not omnipotent, and it certainly didn't tell any sheep-herders what to write in a book. Unless you know something I don't, the being also didn't stick around Earth if it was ever even there to begin with.

Deism –noun
belief in the existence of a god on the evidence of reason and nature only, with rejection of supernatural revelation (distinguished from theism).
belief in a God who created the world but has since remained indifferent to it.

Does that mean I am a deist? No. I am only open to the possibility that a being of some sort, not a god, may have had a hand (or tentacle, antennae, claw, talon, toe, tongue, alien-equivalent-of-a-sneeze) in the creation of... the universe. I am hesitant to say universe because I don't accept this idea and saying it makes me twitch. Until there is credible evidence for deist ideas, I'm okay with not knowing how we got here. I don't need to know. I'm here; that's all I know, and that's all I have to deal with.

I'd like to attempt to stretch your brain out a bit. I'm not going to talk about the belief of a 6000 year-old universe and I'm not going to talk about how the universe is, in fact, MUCH older than that. I want to put time aside. This is something my mom and I talked about when I was very young which, now that I think about it, probably opened my mind and allowed me to see a bigger picture of our world. It was the first thing that allowed me to see past the bible and the beliefs of my friends and family, things I didn't actually think much of. It allowed me to realize that there could be so much more to life than humans, animals, plants, bacteria, atoms, planets, galaxies, and universes. If you have ever seen "Men in Black" (See below), this might be easier for you to grasp than for those who have not:

If you think about how tiny the particles our world consists of - protons, neutrons, electrons, molecules, atoms - you can sort of imagine the sizes of these particles compared to the size of your own body. Everything is made up of these particles, yet we cannot actually see them. Now think about us being that size - microscopic and smaller. What larger particle could we be a part of? We could be part of the "soil" found in another organism's "garden."* We could be a part of a bacterium consuming/developing on something that's spoiling in an organism's "refrigerator," or bacteria living on an alien-equivalent-of-a-foot. It's very human of me to say other lifeforms are required to have a refrigerator because I'm pretty sure that even the majority of non-human animals do not require a fridge. Not even we do, in fact. Plus, if anything else out there exists, it's probably not intelligent and it probably doesn't look anything like us; therefore, it likely requires something entirely different to sustain itself. I wish I could explain this better and give clearer, more logical examples and ideas, but if you can at least imagine that space as we know it is just a small part of something incredibly huge, huger than you would ever think possible, either your head will explode (because the concept of an electron alone can be mind-boggling) or you will stop being so selfish about your own insignificant non-significant self. If you're lucky, you're only significant on this planet. That's it.

As my mom and I discussed something similar many years ago, I remember saying to her, "So, we could just be boogers in something's nose?" And frankly, who can prove that we're not? When I thought about being a part of a booger in someone else's nose, in that moment I could see "the camera" zoom out rapidly and it allowed me to see a bigger world than I'd ever imagined. We were the tiny bacteria and "they" were the organisms we stood insignificant next to. And what if "they" were the bacteria of another organism? We'd be the bacteria of the bacteria of the bacteria... and that could extend to unimaginable worlds, organisms, and species - to infinity and beyond.

By the way, who's coming to see Toy Story 3 with me?

I'm actually concerned that if people settle with the "good enough" response to currently unanswerable questions, i.e. "god did it," while there's more to explore but we are happy in our ignorance, then we will cease to pursue the truth, the facts and the evidence that would ultimately lead to a greater understanding of the universe and its origin.

Never cease to pursue knowledge. It is always growing and always wanting to be pursued.

Thank Lucy for intelligent people; they're the only ones who can save us from our restricting beliefs, our comfortable laziness and our self-destructive selves.

* Any gardens or refrigerators owned by other organisms, if they do at all (and they probably don't), would consist of something much different than what ours do. I'm using examples from our world because I don't know of any possible out-of-this-world examples. Yet.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

I like this 17:

Dear Globlets,

I liked all three quotes for today:

The one serious conviction that a man should have is that nothing is to be taken too seriously.
- Nicholas Butler

(This one I feel pretty strongly about. There are few things in the world that should be taken very seriously, and unfortunately, those things often are not.)

Faith is a cop-out. If the only way you can accept an assertion is by faith, then you are conceding that it can’t be taken on its own merits.
- Dan Barker

People are more violently opposed to fur than leather because it's safer to harass rich women than motorcycle gangs.
- Unknown

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Male strippers.

Dear Globlets,

The other day I spoke with my grandmother about male strippers and strip clubs.

We are awesome.

That is all.