Friday, December 31, 2010

Happy Old Year, Happy New Year.

Dear Globlets,

Happy New Year! What did you do in the Old Year, 2010?

I... broke up with Sp after being with him for a year, became friends with him again, then we had a fight and "broke up" again, then gave it another chance, then "broke up" one last time... because I made plans with friends on a day he wanted to see me.
I became better friends with Sh.
A second chance of some form of acquaintanceship/friendship with Sk has presented itself thanks to her.
I made some wonderful friends and have found myself feeling like I belong to a group of nice people who all get along. Yay MOHM!
I got drunk. A couple of times. But the last time was the worst... I lost track of how many glasses I'd had and didn't have any water throughout the evening, but I woke up without a hangover! Instead, I had a very mild headache that went away as soon as I took an ibuprofen... and proceeded to vomit for the entirety of that day. This is no exaggeration. But it was no hangover, it was alcohol poisoning, and it was enough to make me never want to drink that much again.
I got into college and completed my first semester with straight As.
I wrote a twenty page short story that I intend to turn into a novel.
I globulated more.
I freakin' turned 19.
I got into my car, turned the ignition, drove out of the driveway, onto a real-live street(!), let go of the brake, pressed the gas pedal, and drove. I even signaled and turned left and right and shit.
I learned more about myself and what kind of behaviour/people I'm willing to put up with.
I started watching True Blood and became addicted to it.
I got a crush on the new Doctor Who, Matt Smith.
I bitched a lot.
I made manjar.
I had a Chilean food party for my birthday and made empanadas.
I bought a beautiful pair of Mary Janes.
I did not go to Oregon. :(
I kissed Lucy a lot.
I got a really good job, was not paid for 7 months, and now they've sent me a couple of cheques but still have to pay me for the work I did after the summer. However, I did learn how to be better with people - in person and on the phone.
I. got. a. red. bra. Two of them. Three of them, actually, if you include my red one with black lace.
I ROWED. Like, in a boat. And raced. And was awesome. With my mom. Go Rowing Stones!

In 2011, I plan to...
get my L.
get into UVic.
pwn in all my courses.
upgrade my math.
get a new job.
bitch a lot more.
bake a lot of pies.
give Lucy a lot of kisses.
kill a lot of zombies.
take more pictures.
write more stories.
more more more more newer newer newer newer better better better better.

During my last shower of 2010, the following occurred...
Me: MOM! Help! Help! Help! Can you pass me the skin cleanser please?
Mom: Sure. Here. Anything else?
Me: A piƱa colada!
Figured it was worth a try.

Do you have any New Year's resolutions?

Last song played in 2010 (and quite a good one for the time, chosen randomly by my iPod):


Dear Globlets,

This is not what you think it is. Post about New Year's will come later. Patience, my globlets. Because I know just how much you are craving it and, oh Lucy, I am too!!! Right...

This depicts our current situation quite perfectly. Our stereo speakers have been broken since we lived in our previous apartment - three years-ish ago. Yesterday, I, once again, told my mom that the right one doesn't work. She was surprised and asked why she hadn't heard about this sooner. Except she has; a few months ago I reminded her. And a few months before that, I reminded her then. And so on. But if you ask her, she'll tell you it's a lie and I've never mentioned it. *sigh* Such is life. (I love you, mommy.) (Yes, I call her mommy. Because I'm cool. Like bow ties.)

How did I find out? I played this:

You know how the beginning goes... Danananana BWOOWNGGG! Danananana BWOOWNGGG!
Well, the "BWOOWNGGG" was almost silent and, frankly, "She's a Lady" just ain't the same without it.

And seriously, what an awesome song.

My Lucy, the 70s were a sexy, sexy time:

Now, I must go take a shower. Wouldn't want to be smelly on the last day of 2010!

Thursday, December 30, 2010


Dear Globlets,

Why does nature have to be so cool?

Random Midnight Writing.

Dear Globlets,

Writing at midnight leads to weird things...

The jazz was like honey. The blues like butterscotch. The rock and alternative varied between white, milk and dark chocolate depending on its harshness. The classical was clear caramel. The heavy metal reminded me of an unsweetened bar of baker’s chocolate that I once burned and then tried to save by adding copious amounts of sugar. It wasn’t my thing. Neither was the pop that was like that horrendous cheese popcorn so many people seem to like. The trance/techno/electronica music was caramel popcorn: crunchy, but soft and sweet, and easy to consume.

If this is any good in the morning, maybe I'll use it for a future story. Goodnight, globlets.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

I like this 57: Stroking my morbidity-loving side.

Dear Globlets,

I keep forgetting to finish my globulation on premature ejaculation, damn it!

Until then...

I like this...

I saw this video on Pharyngula:

The ever-present morbidity-loving side of me adores this video. It stroked this side of me oh-so very kindly.

I hope your Christmas was as good as mine, if not better.

I like this 56: Happiness, Originality & Childishness

Dear Globlets,

I like these:

"Happiness is not achieved by the conscious pursuit of happiness; it is generally the by-product of other activities."
- Aldous Huxley
There are some people I know who spend too much time thinking about how to achieve happiness. I never think, I'm going to do [this] so that I may be happy, but rather make many small steps towards the things that I want - an education in an area (or two) for which I am passionate, for instance. That's actually all I'm doing right now. That's the closest thing to a conscious decision to reach happiness that I'm acting on. But when I write, I don't think about how it will affect me in the long run. Everything else is just stuff that happens - funny things, weird things, pointing out the illogical bits of commercials. We don't think, we just do. Well, we do think, but we don't think about how the thinking may or may not contribute to our own happiness. As a wise little green man once said, "Do or do not. There is no try."

"Originality is the fine art of remembering what you hear but forgetting where you heard it."
- Laurence J. Peter
This one reminds me of my "Life is But a Dream" short story. I saw the scene from a tv show or movie, but I couldn't remember which it is. 20 pages and one seed of a novel later, I wrote a story that no one has ever read before. It was a scene from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, globlets. From the unoriginal stems originality.

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes.
-Doctor Who

It makes me sad to think that so many adults forget what it's like to be kids. Some spend their whole childhood and adolescence promising themselves to never become like their mother or father, promising to never be so strict, controlling, apathetic, negligent, or stifling. Even so, countless grownups grow up to mirror the exact image they once wished to avoid. On the other hand, some turn around and do the exact opposite, or close to it. They've actually learned from their parents what it is they shouldn't do. They improve, which is how it's supposed to be. You're supposed to do better than your parents and your children should do better than you; this, don't forget, is not measured by wealth or success. Happiness is the most important measurement.

The happiest people I know are the grownups who don't forget to be childish sometimes, who don't forget to stop and laugh sometimes. It's easier to laugh at oneself once adulthood is reached. When you're a child, there's too much to learn, to be afraid of, to seek approval of. I'm not saying being an adult discontinues these things, but they're easier to deal with when a person understands them better and has more control over them. Taming them is a choice.

It is so important for adults to remember what it's like to be childish, to not be serious all the time, to not TAKE things so seriously because very little in the world is actually worth taking seriously. Life is short, as any adult may know. During childhood, life was endless. Don't you think that acting childish once in a while may improve your happiness? ...and, consequently, your longevity? ...and increase your desire to live longer? What if taking childish moments and stuffing them into your serious adult life would transfer some of that "eternal youth?"

Not that any of this will prevent you from getting hit by a bus someday, but hey! At least you'll have had something to live for and therefore something to lose too! Oh, wait...

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Merry Pastamas!

Dear Globlets,

There's something I need to tell you...

... I made a Flying Spaghetti Monster Christmas tree topper.

BEHOLD! The Flying Spaghetti Monster.

May you be touched by His Noodly Appendage this holiday season!

Playing with Fire on Bridges.

Dear Globlets,

Last week was the weirdest week. In a matter of days, I lost one friend over something completely ridiculous (although I predict the sentiment goes deeper than what surfaced late Monday night), I decided to stop giving another friend chances she doesn't deserve (or want, it seems), and I received contact from a former friend, a friend from what seems like many years ago. Certainly more than two.

Receiving the letter from her was quite surreal and unexpected. My grandfather opened the door and she handed him the letter. He told me to come to the door but I was in my pyjamas and I had a bird's nest of a hairdo; nobody close enough to me around whom I would feel comfortable looking like that would be at our door, so I didn't dare go to it. I got closer, saw nothing, my grandpa looked at me and said he thought he knew who that had been. He called her name softly. He closed the door and handed me the letter. I recognized the handwriting on the envelope. "For Oriana."
"Yep, that was her."

I didn't know what to think when I opened the envelope. I didn't know what to think when I read bits of the letter. I didn't know what to think when I read it more thoroughly. I have a better idea of what to do now, though - I'm going to respond.

I thought I had burned that bridge, and I had been sad to do so. But I was angry. A couple of months ago I reread the "letter" I wrote about her. I was ashamed to have spoken about/to her like that. I felt what I felt, but I'm ashamed of the way I did it. I didn't know what to do about it then. But that's the past. I've been afraid to contact her, and I never thought she would contact me again, but she did.

The memories confuse me. It won't be like it was before... ever. Too much has happened.

But, as she often used to say, "Que sera, sera."

PS. There's a song that has a bit of Doris Day's "Que Sera, Sera" in it and for the life of me I can't figure out where I've heard it or where to find it. Comment if you know,pls?

PPS. Found it.

Friday, December 24, 2010

I like this 55: Christmakwanzakah

Dear Globlets,

Oh my Lucy. I gasped. And lol'd.

At least it wasn't a puppy. Now they can wrap the baby up in bacon! Yum!
Babies in bacon! Babies in bacon! Babies in bacon!

Also, Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Seasons Greetings/Happy Saturnalia/Whatever; I don't really care what you call it. I really, really don't. People need to get over whatever greeting they say this time of year. This is not worth fighting over/for. You know what is? Gay rights. Human rights. Freedom of speech. Racial equality. Individual equality. World peace. The best parking spot in the parking lot. The handsomest cooked chicken at Save-On Foods. The best seat in the movie theatre. The cutest puppy in the litter. But most importantly, the freshest and yummiest sushi in the province. We'll be doing the latter this holiday season. What will you be fighting for?

(Actually, I intend to fight for most of the things mentioned before "world peace" by writing here... :/ Because who cares about world peace anyway?)

Whatever you believe in, if anything: Merry-time-off-work (if you get it) and Happy time-to-pig-out-on-delicious-foods-and-give-and-receive-awesome-presents-and-be-with-people-you-care-about.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Cowardice and Nobility.

Dear Globlets,

I have been acquitted.
Or the charges have been dropped or a plea bargain was accepted or whatever.

In other news...
Below is another brilliant clip from The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. This relates to my previous post about passing (or not passing) a bill related to 9/11 first responders' health problems caused by breathing in so many toxicities at Ground Zero.

They showed a senator shedding a tear as he talked about his coworker, a friend, who was leaving the senate.
A first responder replied, "He said something very important... he's going to watch his friend walk out the senate chambers, which is, unfortunately, more than any firefighter can say about 343 of his brothers who can't walk any more."

Harry Reid wants people to stay and finish what they've started. Senator Jon Kyl of Arizona responded, "It is impossible to do all of the things that the majority leader laid out... frankly, without disrespecting the institution and without disrespecting one of the two holiest of holidays for Christians and the families of all of the senate." He's basically saying that he doesn't want to stay and work the week between Christmas and New Year's.
The same first responder replied, "It just goes to show the disconnect between those we elect to represent us and those who get out there to do the work because I'm here to say that you won't find a single New York firefighter who considers it a sign of disrespect to work in a New York City firehouse on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day."

Clip 2 of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, December 16.

I've always known that there were scummy politicians, but the extent to which their scumminess reached is much farther than I had previously thought. Just when you think they can't get worse, that they can't possibly willingly fuck the people in the ass with a pine cone any harder, they do just that.

If you watch the previous clip of the same episode, Jon talks about how few news stations are talking about this. They, especially Fox News, have talked about the building of a mosque at Ground Zero extensively, saying how bad of an idea it is. I don't understand why they choose that over this. I really don't. They have to make the party they support sound good and the opposing one sound bad... at the expense of the wellbeing of the American people.

But hey, what else is new?

Saturday, December 18, 2010

"Life is But a Dream" short story.

Dear Globlets,

For my final short story for ENG154 (Fiction), I took an idea that I'd had for a long time that I've been wanting to expand on. It was based on the last scene of a Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode (possibly season three, according to one of my ENG154 classmates who remembered the episode and linked it to the info I gave about my story). In it, you see the mom and doctor looking at Buffy in the hospital who is on the floor in her hospital gown and we, the audience, know that all the things she talked about (vampires, demons, etc.) was true but her mom and doctor don't believe her, and the question of which reality is real came into question. Everyone (the audience) knew that there were vampires and such because we'd been with Buffy every step of the way, but the possibility that it was all a figment of Buffy's imagination was still compelling.

I took that idea and, after many years of having it stew in my brain, after many weeks of planning it out, I sat down and I wrote it. As it turns out, the planning process wasn't super helpful. It was full of "maybes," so it was more a note-taking of ideas. Reckon I do better if I just sit and write; planning can be done in every other aspect of my life (spoken like a true Virgo), but maybe that's why I like writing fiction. It's spontaneous and I can make the unexpected happen any way I like.

It was to be 8-20 pages and it's about 20, double-spaced... So it's a little long, which is why I've decided to post it as a separate page on my glob. You'll see it at the top, titled "Life is But a Dream", underneath the heading "Globulations." I'd love to know what you think about it, so leave me a comment here if you can't leave me one on the page.

My intention was to leave the reader wondering which reality was real. I'm considering turning this into a novel, but we'll see.

I hope you like it, and may your mind be fucked.


Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The Issuing of a Promise to Appear.

Dear Globlets,

It appears as though I have just lost a friend. Again. (Not death.) He was my boyfriend for almost a year. When we broke up in late April, he stopped talking to me, but had recently started once again. According to him, that was a mistake.

I have many things I feel like I need to respond to in the e-mail he recently sent me, but I have been told not to reply to it. Forgive the drama, Globlets, but if I can't say it directly to him, I'll say it here.

Last week, he told me he had a shitty day and I asked him about it. This is how that conversation went:

Sp: "I'm tired of talking to you about my shit. I know you are tired of it too."
Me: "I'm not tired of the stuff a normal friend does like listen to the other's problems."
Sp: "What are you tired of?"
Me: "That's not what we're talking about right now"
Sp: "I want to know what you are tired of."
Me: "Now is not the time"
Sp: "I want you to tell me."
Me: "I don't want to talk about this right now."
Sp: "... Tell me."
So I told him. He didn't like it, and now he's disappeared and has asked me to refrain from contacting him in the future. I knew he was not in a good mood to begin with, and I knew that he could overreact to whatever I'd say, but I got angry with his persistence, and what I said was taken to an extreme I had not anticipated.

But I must have said some pretty hurtful things to warrant this kind of reaction, surely.
I told him I was tired of feeling like he was the boss of me, like he was superior, like everything was run on his schedule, of talking about the things we used to talk about when we were together and just as much as before (which was a problem that I had mentioned in April), of not having the space that I require and have requested, and of his overreacting to things. He took it as, "Sam, you care too much for me? Fuck off and die, I don't want to talk to you anymore."

The thing is, his very telling me to tell him something I didn't want to is an example of things running on his schedule, of him being the boss. He said what I said was not best friend material, a best friend would not say something like that, but what I said was never intended to be "nice or considerate or loving" because I was telling him how he made me feel. But apparently his feelings are worth more than mine. Apparently what I've said to him hurts more than anything he could ever possibly say to me, so he can say all the nasty shit he wants to me. When he says it, he's thought it through, but when I say something that carries an emotional weight, I'm being rash. Because I'm juvenile, you know?

I am more than willing to sit down and talk about how we've made each other feel so we can figure out a way to work things out. That's what friends do. That's what reasonable human beings do. That's what adults do. They don't run away because someone says something they don't like. I don't want to have to wait until he "calm[s] ... down & stop[s] being insane & stop[s] being mad at [me] for hurting [his] feelings & destroying our friendship." I want to fix this now. I am not going to wait around.

When we started talking again after the breakup, things were good. We would sometimes talk in the evening online and sometimes text each other about random occurrences in our everyday lives.
"Leggings should not be used as pants."
"Stupid girls should not get on the bus while texting and continue to text while walking really slowly to the middle of the bus, where they then block the way to the nearest seat which they could sit in but do not because they're inconsiderate dumbasses who have no respect for other people's time or awareness of their surroundings whatsoever." That was good. But over time, text messages came in more frequently.
"Good morning. How did you sleep?"
"What are you doing today?"
"How was class?"
"Talk tonight?"
"What are you up to?" And it got to be too much for me. In October, I told him it was getting to be a little much again, and he might have backed off a bit, but then he bounced back. He doesn't understand, it seems, that even though he lives in a different city, I still need more space. No, he's not constantly on my doorstep, but he's constantly on my cell phone. "1 new text message." It's not that I don't like texting, but I don't want to have to be tied to my phone 24/7. I don't know how to perceive his, "Hug. - Are you okay? - Oris alive? - Rawr - Dead," when I don't reply to his texts within a "reasonable" amount of time.

I appreciate the fact that he cared about me, but at the same time, I can't handle that kind of attention. Nothing says he can't care about me, I never said that I didn't want to talk to him anymore, I just want what we had these past couple of months in a more moderate dosage.

I want to hear about my friend's problems and some of the things he's up to, and I want to talk to him about my life too. I want those random "people are stupid" text messages, but I don't want to tell him everything about all the things I'm doing all the time. I want those Skype conversations in the evenings, but I don't want to come on every single night. I want to talk to someone who cares about me, but I don't want to have to worry about someone worrying about me all the time.

Maybe my idea of a best friend is incorrect, maybe what I want is unreasonable, maybe what I said was more than an expression of my feelings, but, despite all this, Sp still means a lot to me and that is a bridge I do not want to see burned. Unfortunately, he does.

As I said before, I don't want to live by someone else's schedule; I have my own. I don't want to abide by someone else's guidelines for a friendship. I have some say too. I'm not going to wait for him to come around this time. If he wants to talk, he knows how to contact me, but this is a limited time offer. Even if it is just to clear some things up, even if there is no hope for the existence of our friendship in the future, I still just want to talk.

For the most part, I disagree with the legalization of capital punishment, although there are certain circumstances when I think it could be applied. In a similar manner, friends fight sometimes, but I don't think this fight is worthy of a lethal injection. I believe in rehabilitative justice more so than retributive justice, and I also believe in a fair trial.

This is me requesting a court date.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

I like this 54: Jon Stewart vs. Politicians against 9/11 first responders' bill

Dear Globlets,

Jon Stewart is a brilliant man. I love him. Why are politicians such douchebags?

This is an excellent clip of yesterday's show:

They don't like Mexicans, they don't like gays, and they don't like 9/11 first responders. Wait, what?

Monday, December 13, 2010

Course Selection.

Dear Globlets,

When I went to register for my winter courses, I (along with many others, it seems) was extremely disappointed with the selection of Creative Writing courses offered. I wanted to take second year Fiction (ENG254), Non-Fiction (ENG152), and Scriptwriting (ENG158), but the only course they offered of those was Non-Fiction, and it was the ONLY Non-Fiction course and was even added late. I jumped on it while I still could, but there was some problem with my money going through and it took slightly too long and if it hadn't, I would have gotten in the course right away, but, unfortunately, I ended up second on the waiting list.

As I've said before, I'd been on the waiting list (I was fourth) when I took ENG092 in the summer, and I got in quite easily, but this was different. I only registered for two courses and waitlisted for this one, meaning that if I didn't get in, I would lose my status as a full time student and need to register for another course ASAP. Since I didn't want that, I decided to cover my ass today and switch around my Intro to Lit. (ENG160) class around so I could squeeze in Philosophy: Logic and Critical Thinking. This way, I'd still have three courses and could just drop one if I couldn't do all four.

So, I went to see how my waitlisted status for ENG152 was looking.
"You are currently not waitlisted for any courses."
... Como?
I scrolled down to see what this could mean.

Registered Sections

o 2011 Winter ART180 Modern Art History
o 2011 Winter ENG152 Creative Writing: Nonfiction
o 2011 Winter ENG160 Introduction to Literature


"ENG152?! Is it really you?!" Click. "It is! It's really you! I'm registered!"
That's how it went, pretty much. There was even cheesy music playing and everything. It was beautiful. I teared up.

I am so happy that I got in. I would have been devastated if I didn't get in. That would have meant taking three other courses I hadn't anticipated taking. Phew!


English courses currently being offered:

35 ENG150 Composition courses (Mind you, everyone has to take this course, so it makes sense to have a lot of them.)
12 ENG160 Introduction to Literature
1 ENG152 Nonfiction - There are eleven people waitlisted right now.
2 ENG154 Fiction
1 ENG156 Poetry
0 Scriptwriting
0 ENG254 Second-year Fiction

I like this 53: We No Speak Americano

Dear Globlets,

I like this:

Talk about good choreography. I really like the song too. It's just so fun!

Sunday, December 12, 2010


Dear Globlets,

I have some very good news to tell you, but before that, I must finish my story for ENG154. But before THAT, I must, as a procrastinator, do something else. Like globulate.

A couple of years ago (or so), I met Talina while I was working at One of a Grind Cafe/Bistro and she came in for either a peanut butter or ginger cookie. After some time, when I was already planning on leaving my job, she came in and I realized that it might be the last time I'd ever see her, which would have been a shame because I thought she was one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen in my life. She still is. Her beauty is so natural, it's incredible. I gathered up the courage to ask her if she would be willing to model for me and, luckily, she was!

Unfortunately, our schedules did not match up for the longest time and every time we tried to get together, it just wouldn't work out. A few months ago, around September, I asked her if she'd still be willing to model for me. She was! Again! So, we went to a nice park and I had a really wonderful time with her. She's a very nice person and, clearly, a fantastic model. We're planning on seeing each other again before the new year. I can hardly wait.

See why?...

See more:

Friday, December 10, 2010

Argument slut and freedom.

Dear Globlets,

Freedom is mine. Well, sort of. I still have to complete one last assignment for fiction by Monday, but other than that I'm free! From school. Until the winter semester. I'm secretlyish freaking out because I'm second on the waiting list for Non-Fiction and if I don't get into that, not only will I be very, very sad, but also screwed and will have to get into another course ASAP. I might cover my ass and switch around my Intro to Lit. class to another time so I can take Philosophy: Logic and Critical Thinking. :/ I've been on a waiting list before for a course - fourth - and I got in quite easily. But this time, when I registered online, a scary message came up that I didn't understand - something about a Thursday and people not dropping out soon enough and then I will be thrown into a tank full of hungry sharks, and I'm probably overreacting but I really need to get into that course. Can I send the prof an e-mail and explain my desperation and bribe him/her with peanut butter peanut-butter-chip cookies to let me in?

I have this strange compulsion where, when I see lipstick, I immediately want to apply it. Is this some weird childhood thing? /randomirrelevantthing

Now, the real reason I started globulating:

Pharyngula. I got a hard-on reading this, which is a little peculiar since I actually have a vagina.
This is an excerpt of a response from Pharyngula to a Christian, and it really was wonderful:
(Bold are Pharyngula's responses, of course)

"Could our few years on this planet be all that there is? [Yes.] You are born, live, then die and that's it? [That's what I said. Yes.]"

"...many believe Jesus has died for their passage into heaven [And many believe that Mohammed was God's prophet, and that praying to Ganesh will remove obstacles from their lives. Do you?]. Are all of these people (myself included, and I am a very well educated individual and deep thinker if I do say so myself[I don't believe you.]) delusional or weak minded or worse because the have faith? [Yes. Or lazy, or guilt-ridden and brain-washed, or fearful.]"

LOL: "I don't believe you."

Like I said: hard-on.

I really don't know what it is about talking to Christians and disproving their beliefs, however futile it may be most of the time, that turns me on so much. I just get so excited, and when I'm faced with that kind of situation, I find it very difficult to say no. What can I say? I'm a slut for arguments. It's the only drama I can handle.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Restless Ass Syndrome.

Dear Globlets,

I just decided that when I'm a more successful writer, I will have a giant wood desk and a giant comfy chair that will perform butt exercises on me as I sit in it. It's not as kinky as it sounds, I swear. They have those rather expensive shoes that help tone your legs and buttocks when you walk, why don't they have chairs that help tone your ass when you sit? That might cause a lot of people to have really fit bottoms and chubby tops, which would look pretty weird, but that's a small price to pay for buns of steel.

This came to mind when I was sitting on my ass (something I, unfortunately, do a lot of these days), staring outside, wishing it was summer so I could go outside and throw the ball around with my brother. (Like right now.) Sure, I could go to the gym, but the gym is half an hour away and I would have to go out into the cold to get there. I also don't want to go alone, and by the time my mom gets out of work, it's dark. Going to the gym in the cold and dark and then coming home in the even colder and darker is not that appealing.

I'm going to try and get my sit-up routine running again. We have weights too... somewhere, but our house is cold as well. It's my legs that I have the biggest problem with anyway. Damn. Now I'm feeling all motivated to be unlazy and pick my mom up from work and do sit-ups in the living room. But being lazy is so much warmer. This is hibernation time. Somebody bring me my nap!

The problem is, work is on the computer or telephone; writing is on the computer, and even if it wasn't, I'd probably sit for it; studying requires sitting; they have chairs behind desks in the classroom at school - I have little choice but to sit. Almost everything I do requires my ass to be planted in my chair, and now that it's winter, now that being cooped up inside is more pleasant than being outside, I'm getting a little restless. It's a similar restlessness to that when my room is a mess. I can't stand it when it is. It's like an itch that I have to scratch, and I have, in the past, feared that my head would blow up if I did not put my things away.
Hopefully Christmas shopping will cause some decent physical exertion...

I'm seriously considering going out to pick up my mom from work, but I'm afraid of the cold and the watery eyes and runny nose the wind inflicts upon me. I'm inside and I'm cold, how could outside be better? But, by Lucy, I love my mommy. Ugh.

I hope you enjoyed my deliberation process as much as I did. I did it while sitting, shivering and flexing my buttock muscles repeatedly.

One - two - three - four - five - and squeezehold! - two - three - four - five - and let go.
One - two - three - four - five - and squeezehold! ...

You might not think I'm serious, but ten years from now, I bet I'll look back on this moment while my ass exercises in my big comfy chair, and I'll laugh, and you'll think, with your saggy-bottomed jeans and boots with the fur (with the fur!), about that strange girl who suggested ass-exercise-chairs and how you should have believed her, because, ha! ...I'll be flexing my ass muscles in a country where the climate is warm and boots with fur are a thing of the cold.

Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to find my gloves and nose-warmer.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Car Thief.

Dear Globlets,

For Fiction class, I was to write a 3-5 minute excerpt to read out loud to the class. I got an idea from watching a man attempt to break into a car on TV (Lie to Me). What is depicted in my short story is no ordinary breaking-into-car (is there a better term for this I could use?). I had the initial idea that started with, "What if the guy is breaking into the car and another guy..." - well, I don't want to ruin it for you. And from there, the other idea was to - okay, never mind. I'll just shut up now. I don't want to ruin the surprises.

Car Thief

I’ve been in this business since 1994, even before I dropped out of college - that’s about four years now. The East Side hasn’t changed much in that time. Asians come here, god knows why, but they’re rich and they flaunt their wealth because their lives used to suck and now it doesn’t, or something, so the Mercedes is a symbol of their achievement. Woop-dee-doo. If you’re going to buy a $90,000 car, put in a decent security system. These people have more money than sense. But they always leave the best and weirdest stuff in their cars. Never trust a car with Hello Kitty seat covers. Fucking Asians. But I shouldn’t complain. They’re my primary source of income.

I break into cars during the day, wearing a suit and carrying a drycleaner’s bag. This way, if someone catches me, I can tell them that I’ve locked myself out of my own car and that I’m breaking into it using the coat hanger from the drycleaner’s. I’ve done it several times and only once had a guy seen me. He didn’t do anything, but I nearly shit myself because I’m usually a lot more careful with not being seen, and doing it during work hours doesn’t help with that, but at least I figured out that I could get away with it. Ever since then, I’ve suited up for the job.

Today I’m going to a parking lot in the basement of an office building. I have all my gear with me: a black duffle bag and the dry-cleaning. People have probably already gone for lunch and are now slaving away at their desks, glaring at their computers, trapped inside their tiny little cubicles, watching the minutes go by, waiting to go home. But I’m not. I’m ready for the adrenaline rush of my afternoon adventures.

I’m turning on hunting mode as I turn down an alley. I rely on my senses of hearing and sight, blocking out the unnecessary senses, especially smell – the alley reeks of urine. Luckily, the parking lot smells like gasoline and cement; they’re scents that are just as unmistakeable, but are far less pungent and far easier to shut out than piss is.

I come across a shiny new 1998 Lexus. It’s a sports coupe but it’s in fucking beige. Why bother going sporty if you’re going to be boring? I put on my black pleather gloves and shake my head.

“Somebody’s going to look real nice after Ben gives you a paint job, eh, pretty lady?” I rest my hand above the door frame on the driver’s side and I peer in. I set my duffle bag down and begin unwinding the brass coat hanger. From my duffle bag I take out a pen that has the tip of a screwdriver attached to it and squeeze it between the window and the door frame. Once the window is pried out slightly, I insert the wiry hook to flick the lock open.

Footsteps. My ears become sensitive to the sound and I stop. Heavy steps. It’s a large male. I have to stay calm, I know, but I begin to shake and my palms perspire instantly. Soon, my hands are swimming inside my gloves.

“Hey, man. What’re you… what’re you doing?” He stops near me and stares.
“I’m… I locked myself out of my car!” I laugh nervously.
“Man, that sucks. Do you need a hand?”
“No, no! That’s fine. I got it. I’m just glad I had my dry-cleaning with me!”
“It’s a nice car. What year is it?” he asks.
“‘98. Sports coupe.” I force a smile. My heart is pounding in my chest so loudly I can hear it.
“She’s a beaut. Now, where did I park my car?” The man takes out the car keys from his pocket. “I never remember where I leave it.”
I chuckle and nod.
“Sports coupe, eh,” he mutters quietly and turns away. He holds the keys in the air and pushes a button on the small black device on his keychain. I hear a nearby thlunk. But I also felt the thlunk. I look inside and see the doors had unlocked. My stomach turns. I look up at the businessman expecting him to do something stupid.
“Oh! Here it is!” He pushes past me to open the door. The screwdriver-pen falls down. I step back. He slams the door shut, turns on the ignition, and leaves.

I’m stunned. I feel my pants are wet. The stench of urine overpowers that of the gasoline.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

I like this 52 + Facebook.

Dear Globlets,

If you have Facebook, you can now Like me and receive messages when I post notes and pictures. There's a link on the side of my glob as well as right here. I had no idea that Facebook pages would allow me to post so much. I should have done this sooner. In my Fiction class yesterday we talked about publishing and self-promotion and having a Facebook page for yourself was briefly mentioned, but that's when it hit me! Why didn't I have one yet? So, I got home and I made one. Not everyone uses Blogger or the RSS feed option (why not I cannot say), but most of the world uses Facebook to some degree.

In other news...

I like these:
"If mankind minus one were of one opinion, then mankind is no more justified in silencing the one than the one - if he had the power - would be justified in silencing mankind."
- John Stuart Mill

It's 8:01AM and I only just finished my coffee. After reading this, I do not know what it means. I got about halfway until my brain started to hurt. Maybe I should consider taking drugs and trying again.

"The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found."
- Calvin Trillin

I just thought this one was funny. I'm glad my mommy doesn't do that.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

I don't like this #2: A Grammar Nazi's Derito.

Dear Globlets,

This pisses me off. Someone commented on a youtube video and said,

"...a derito

btw i probably didnt spell that right !"

No, *****babe82609, you did not spell that right. I'm pleased to see that you were able to realize that you might have made a mistake, but I am disappointed in your laziness and not taking action to figure out how to spell "derito" correctly. This does not surprise me as you didn't capitalize the brand name of the chip, the abbreviation of "by the way," the letter "I," or add an apostrophe between "did" and "not" which would conjoin and become "don't."

Normally I don't pick at people's spelling and grammar errors in comments on Youtube because I have much, much, much better things to do, but this one stood out to me. The "btw i probably didnt spell that right !" made me wonder: if you know that you made a mistake, why not fix it and learn the correct way of writing something so next time you know how to do it right?

If you were a surgeon, ******babe82609 (you know this is going to be good), and you made a mistake during a procedure and your patient only became paralysed from the waist down, would you say, "i probs did something rong here," and shrug it off?

Of course, Youtube won't fire you or prevent you from working in the field again, but it's something to think about. If you can spend a few seconds to write seven words after you think you've misspelled one of them, why not open a new tab on your browser, type "derito" into your google toolbar and hit enter? Unless you were really referring to "the largest brokerage firm in Arizona specializing in retail," you were right about it being wrong. Congratulations.

Since you still don't know how to spell "derito," try "derito chip." Hell, try "derito cjip" and you'll be directed to websites that indicate the correct spelling of Doritos.