Angerin' The Moralists

Floralia continues:



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Took the Bio test today. I think I did... better, at least. Not that that was hard. Interestingly, I took the exam in the room which houses the school's insect collection. I didn't realize it at first, but my professor enthusiastically declared "You get to take the exam with the company of 80,000 arthropods!" That's when I noticed the massive safes. Yes, they lock up their bugs at night. All 80,000 of them.

(You can stop reading here if you like, that's the end of things that actually happened to ME today. Rest is just philosophatin'.)

I mean, I guess bugs are worth a lot on the black market to collectors, so they probably don't want them stolen. And that's an impressive collection. They must have had several different benefactors bequeath their collections. Which makes sense, I guess. Can you imagine going to a will reading and hearing, "And to my second-cousin Geraldine, I bequeath my extensive collection of Arthropoda, gathered painstakingly over the course of my life."

Though there are worse things. One collector donated several hundred carefully captured and stuffed birds to the school. They are currently on display in the Spaulding Life Sciences building second floor, row after row after row of them, from finches to owls all the way to large sea birds, and every time I walk down that hall to talk to my professor and walk past all those birds in their neat little glass cases with their carefully filled-out labels I am reminded of Ed Gein. I know, I know, I eat birds, at least until they find a way to enact my dinosaur consumption plans. But there's a difference between doing what biology tells us is okay and even necessary with other creatures and using them for pure, useless decoration. It's like...

"Certainly one could state that, like the serial killer, the trophy hunter plans his killing with considerable care and deliberation. Like the serial killer, he decides well in advance the type of victim--that is, which species he intends to target. Also like the serial killer, the trophy hunter plans with great care where and how the killing will take place--in what area, with what weapon. What the serial killer and trophy hunter also share is a compulsion to collect trophies or souvenirs of their killings. The serial killer retains certain body parts and/or other trophies for much the same reason as the big game hunter mounts the head and antlers taken from his prey...as trophies of the chase." ~Gareth Patterson, conservationist, in "The Killing Fields"

See, way more eloquent than me.

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I don't have anything interesting to say about my own life these days, so instead, I'll talk about someone else's. Did you hear about the Nigerian woman who married four women? She's a Muslim, and now she's a Muslim with four wives, on the run from the Sharia law police.

Now, let's look at this. Besides providing fantasies for young men everywhere, it's an interesting issue. Muslim men are allowed four wives; "...marry of the women, who seem good to you, two or three or four" (Women 4.3, the Koran). So that's not the issue. The issue is, of course, that she is a woman. But wait a minute...

"And Lot! (Remember) when he said unto his folk: Will ye commit abomination such as no creature ever did before you? Lo! ye come with lust unto men instead of women. Nay, but ye are wanton folk." (7:80-7:81, The Heights)
"What! Of all creatures do ye come unto the males, and leave the wives your Lord created for you ? Nay, but ye are froward folk." (26:165-26:166, The Poets)
"Must ye needs lust after men instead of women ? Nay, but ye are folk who act senselessly." (27:55, The Ant)
"And Lot! (Remember) when he said unto his folk: Lo! ye commit lewdness such as no creature did before you. For come ye not in unto males." (29:28-29:29, The Spider).

That's all the Quran has to say about homosexuality, and admittedly they make their point quite clear. Man-on-man = bad. But. Not once does it mention woman-on-woman. Never. And it's pretty clear reading that thing that women and men are held to different standards. Thus technically the Koran doesn't object at ALL to Ms. Maiduguri's marriages.

And since God was only revealed to them through the Koran and Mohammad, they've got nothing here. Nothing. If Allah sees it as a sin, he will punish them, and feel kinda dumb for not thinking to include that tidbit in his book, but they have no support for their "OMG EVIL" claims.

Well, they do have support. It's just in the form of a whole mess of guns.

As for me, I fully support this, on account of 1. Homosexuals should be allowed to marry, and 2. Polygamy should be legal provided that all those involved want it to happen and are of the correct age, and can get out of it (divorce) if they want to. If some grown woman doesn't mind hitching up with a guy who's already got two other grown women around the house, and neither of the previous wives objects to the newest addition to their little sorority, I say go for it.

Heck, I think that if ten bisexual folks, male and female, all want to have the right to live together and visit each other in the hospital if one is ill, they should be allowed to all marry each other. The only flaw in that plan is that no one will ever know who the kids belong to. But hey, that's their problem. And anyone that complains about it being a perverse environment to raise children should just think about all the crazy kinky stuff married, heterosexual couples with kids do behind closed doors. You don't expose the kids to it.

(And yes, I know that it's impractical and would screw up the legal code and all that jazz, but it's not like EVERYONE would be doing it. You'd get a bunch of people who did it for the novelty of it and then divorced later when they realized it was dumb; then you'd get some people who believed it was right and would do it for real, but the social stigma would be too great. You'd get maybe a hundred, two hundred polygamous marriages maximum, and the lack of legal repercussions for it would mean that women in a BAD situation, who wanted divorce but not to have her husband thrown in jail, wouldn't be afraid to go to the authorities. You can regulate legal stuff MUCH easier than illegal stuff.)

Foods of the Future, as predicted by Basio

More Floralia. Thus more flowers:



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So maybe, if you were paying attention to the news a month or so ago you heard that they compared the proteins from the bone collagen of a dinosaur (some proteins escaped fossilization) to that of a chicken, thus proving that chickens evolved from dinosaurs, after all. Up until now the whole "birds from dinosaurs" hypothesis was mostly based on the appearance and the transitional forms; this offers DNA proof of the connection.

Of course you know what this means.

Dinosaurs taste like chicken.

Now, you may not know this, but I really want to start moving away from eating birds. I'm not completely opposed to them, but at this point my mild discomfort with their consumption is tempered by the fact that this school can't seem to cook fish right and if I don't eat chicken my anemia will come back and I will become pale and sickly and prone to dramatic fainting spells at inopportune times, or maybe I'll just have to start swallowing iron pills again.

Anyway, the issue with birds are that they're basically as evolved as mammals, just up a different lineage. They're about equally intelligent and all, so my only arguement is that they're not that closely related to me and the ones I eat-- chicken and domesticated turkey-- are pretty damn dumb. But now I won't eat octopus for their intelligence and chickens aren't that much dumber than cows so...

Back to the dinosaurs. Here's my theory. They're trying to find a way to reverse-engineer chicken DNA to create dinosaurs. Awesome, no? You know it's awesome. Don't lie. See, all we have to do is get two dinosaurs, a male and a female. Then we breed them. Then we raise their offspring for meat.

Think about it. Dinosaurs are lizards so I wouldn't mind eating them. Plus for everyone else, they're either the size of chickens or turkeys anyway, or they're MASSIVE. You serve a Neuquenraptor for Thanksgiving and you have leftovers for at least a week, even if you live in a house like mine where a 25-pound-turkey is gone in three days. You might need a bigger fridge though. Plus that drumstick would be MASSIVE, so the kiddies wouldn't fight over it, they'd kinda HAVE to share.

Plus, that's all healthy meat, right there. Lean, white. Good eatin's. You could raise them instead of cows and feed them eggs, which I don't mind eating anyway on account of they're basically chicken menstruation (Just doing my part to lower your cholesterol). And you know, you give a man a fish and he eats for a day. Give him a Utahraptor and some salt or refrigeration and he eats for like THREE MONTHS. Plus there's nothing in the Jewish or Biblical regulations against eating dinosaurs on account of them not being things that "crawl on the earth." Just can't cook them in milk.

Then you get the eggs, which would make killer omelettes; and you can raise like, a T-rex for meat and feed whole towns when he's killed. T-rex meat would be awesome. And then there's the ultimate factor, the thing I noticed in my Bio book while studying that prompted this whole line of thinking:

T-rexes have wishbones.

And I'm pretty sure that if you could find a way to BREAK a T-rex wishbone, and you got the bigger piece, you could wish for God himself to appear and perform a flamboyant musical number with Ernst Mayr, Isaac Asimov, Ayn Rand and Friedrich Nietzsche and not only would it happen, but it would be FABULOUS.

In which I corrupt a roommate and am mildy corrupted by a cousin, myself

The Floralia continues. Have some flowers.



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Okay, Mistake mentioned that she no longer has a particular desire to be called that. So I'm officially changing her name to Vivacia. I'll change it retroactively over the summer, but henceforth, Vivacia= Mistake. Still haven't picked a name for Closer yet.

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Today was... an experience.

Bisobrina came up today to visit after I finished my Bio project contribution, at 1. We then wandered around for a while, and then, as we grasped for something to do, I invited Vivacia to dinner and she came over, which was INCREDIBLY good because Vivacia is so much better at the talking to people thing. Bisobrina, I learned, has a diagnosed inability to read facial expressions (very mild Asperger's), which means she doesn't tend to pick up when I'm getting bored with a conversation (that has lasted about an hour...) or when I'm trying to change the subject tactfully. Luckily Vivacia is the master of seizing control of a conversation and I was able to sit back and not contribute. Closer wandered in and out and then we went to dinner with Loquatia and Vivacia's roommate.

Then we went to go see Pan's Labyrinth at the MUB movie theater. It's in Spanish with subtitles. Bisobrina lasted a half an hour or so; Loquatia was ambivalent, and I was obligated to go with Bisobrina. So we went to the other movie, which was just starting: Ghost Rider. Hint: Don't take a fundamentalist Christian to see a movie about a guy who sells his soul to the Devil and then has to defeat demons with a flaming skull for a head. Just a tip.

Anyway, after that we were getting ready for a boring night, possibly venturing down to the social for a rousing Thumb-War Tournament (aka "The RAs Ran Out Of Social Ideas"), when I got a call from Ryter (well, the call came earlier but I just noticed it then) inviting me to come to a party of a friend of his, the one that he was at at the time, and I could bring Bisobrina. I was hesitant, mostly because I don't know Bisobrina well enough to trust her at a large party, but he said it wasn't a crazy kind of party so I asked her if she wanted to go and she bounced up and down on my bed in excitement, so we went, after I warned her that she was not going to be allowed to drink, though if she really wanted to go make out with a stranger in a corner, I wasn't going to stop her. I said this only because I knew full well that that wasn't going to happen... Corrupting cousins is a good way to get glared at during family reunions.

We got there and everyone was chilling in the main room, so I figured it was going to be okay... I kinda hung back, though, because I was nervous and I was worried about making a good impression. Everyone was really nice, though. Apparently I look like Anna Paquin? (Don't see it)

And then they all went out to the garage to smoke, and we went out to talk with them, and then Bisobrina mentioned that she didn't want to go home smelling like cigarettes... So the rest of the night we spent inside, away from everyone else except for the occasional person who wandered in for alcohol or a break from that conversation, and Ryter, who felt obligated to stay with us on account of he was the one who invited us in the first place. So the whole time I was like, damn, now he can't hang out with his friends, and what's worse, I'm hiding inside and I must seem like the world's biggest snob. I mean, I would have wound up inside anyway, because by the time we left the garage was so full of smoke that Ryter opened the door to say goodbye to everyone and I thought my eyes were lighting on fire, but I spent like no time talking to people unless they came into the kitchen and then most of my conversation was just redirecting Bisobrina's to try to find common topics everyone was interested in.

Oh well. Many of those people are going to Ryter's party next week. I'll have a chance to redeem myself and be sociable then...

Why yes, I do obsess like this after every time I meet someone new.

*collapses in exhaustion*

I had a WEIRD dream last night.

Uhm, wow. You can tell I'm sleep deprived because I totally screwed up my Roman holidays... Wednesday the 25th wasn't the first day of the Floralia, it was the Robigalia, for the god Robigus, master of ergot (a fungus that attacks grain), mildew, and wheat rust, which is a blight a lot like ergot, attacking grains.

TODAY is actually only the SECOND day of the Floralia. Have some flowers.



Then go back to a couple days ago and read about what was supposed to happen today, instead of then, when you were supposed to be sitting around contemplating the wonders that Robigus brings us, what with his fungi. He even has a sister, Robiga, who helps him, because there's a lot of work when you control blights.

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Have you ever played Never Have I Ever? There are two versions, drinking and not, but in either version you go around and say one thing you've never done that you think everyone else in the room has done. Like Truth or Dare, I have instilled in my mother a deep-seated hatred of this game, because it's all about sharing secrets and making other people share theirs, and I was

In the drinking version, you take a shot/drink if you've done something mentioned; in the tamer version you put a finger down. The goal is to either get plastered, or get people out of the game. We were playing the drinking version, though at that point Ryter was onto Coke so he could drive me home safely and I was, of course, not drinking alcohol, so my drinks were cold green tea. The only one of our little gathering (four people) who was actually drinking was Loquelo, Ryter's buddy who I talked about before and who gets a name at last ("Loquelo," from the Latin "loquela," speech or language. That's his major, linguistics). Loquelo got rather tipsy; as in, if he stood up he'd probably fall over. His female friend drank a little, but she could drive home-- Loquelo wound up staying the night.

He's over 21 and he had a huge presentation today. I say he earned it. Plus I got to see Ryter make a flaming dragon, which is a shot of alcohol that you light on fire and that then lights you on fire as you drink it, at least judging by the expression on Loquelo's face and the fact that he then couldn't FEEL said face. Plus I can now say I've seen someone inebriated. Never had before.

I also learned that I am not only no longer the master of Truth or Dare because I've become a prude in comparison to my fellow college students, but I also now suck at Never Have I Ever because all the good ones that got everyone to put a finger down-- besides Going To Canada, never done that-- have now mostly been experienced. The last time I won it was because I'd never been kissed, for example. Plus when you're playing with your boyfriend you limit what you say to what you think he'd be okay with you sharing... since most of what you would have or wouldn't have done would involve him.

But I had fun, and no one drove drunk, and I didn't drink myself, and it was good times, and I'm tired so the post isn't coherent and I probably didn't need to clarify that I didn't drink twice, did I? Now it sounds like I'm trying to prove something, or I'm lying. It's 1:40 AM, I might as well be drunk for all the sense I can make.

Because it ain't cookin' 'til somethin's on fire

Floralia continues. I figured in honor of the festival, here's the day's flower:



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Uh... I was tired all day, despite going to bed ridiculously early last night (10:30); skipped PLTL... what else.

Today was the last day of Group. This semester's group was so much nicer than last, as in, we didn't lose 75% of our members by the end. For the last session, we just went around and talked about how awesome everyone else was. It was a totally back-patting extravaganza. Still, everyone was really great and I'll miss seeing them. I don't think I'll do the Group next year; this would be a hard act to follow and anyway, I won't be seeing the psychiatrist at the school so they won't LET me go to Group. Oh well. Maybe I'll do the Anxiety group, if they let me... probably not, though.

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Ryter sacrificed his kitchen to me today, and as I struggled to deal with his tiny counters (apartments are not conductive to baking) I made massive amounts of cookies and one massive cookie, all with more chocolate chips than cookie dough, and we made nachos with mountains of cheese and as Ryter attempted to brown his hamburger meat something in his stove caught fire and next thing we knew he was pouring water over it and I was running around opening windows and turning on fans...

It was good, though, and the smoke detector stopped screaming once I took it off the wall and left it dangling there. We were celebrating the completion of his novel and I was destressing by baking (it's the best way I know to relax), so two birds were killed with a large, floury stone. Plus he now owns various baking supplies. Not that I expect them to ever get used; I used his measuring cups on their maiden voyage. I was just glad he had them...

Ryter finished book # 5 today!

Today is the first day of the seven-day-long Floralia, a festival to honor Flora (Chloris), goddess of flowers. She was a fairly minor goddess but was strongly associated with spring, so it was appropriate that she have a festival at this time of year. Flora was the wife of Favonius (Zephyr), the god of the gentle west wind and (appropriately) of spring, which he was said to bring. In Greek myth, their son was Carpus, god of fruit (NOT god of fruits, that's Ganymede), but I don't know if that part of the myth carried over.

Anyway, today was celebrated by theatrical performances, circus games, and, in the evening, offerings of milk and honey to Flora. Hares and goats were released to run the streets and various beans and legumes were thrown to the spectators. The whole city was decked out in flowers-- even temples were covered in flowers, though only white ones. The people dressed in bright, colorful clothing instead of the customary white and there was much dancing and drinking. Great fun.

Incidentally, Roman prostitutes considered this holiday to be their own. I'm guessing it's all the drunk guys wandering around with flowers on their heads needing to prove their manhood, but that's just speculation...

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Okay, I found something that amuses me greatly. It's an emo bunny complaining about how he can't get laid. I really like that song, despite the fact that the lyrics are kinda weird. Warning: The only really easily decipherable phrase is "Everybody else has had more sex than me" so you might not want to watch it when that would start an awkward conversation...

You know, you'd think it would be easy for a bunny to get laid. They're freakin' rabbits.

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Ryter: So what did you do today?
Basiorana: Tore open the sternum of a pigeon with my bare (well, gloved) hands.
Basiorana: You?
Ryter: Finished a novel.
Basiorana: Mine's creepier.

Yeah, we were dissecting in Bio lab today. I asked my lab partner if we could do the pigeon, on account of the rats being a bit too well preserved-- they looked like they would get up and walk around. Well, until they were cut open and their guts were splayed everywhere.

Nothin' like a dissection to bring out the perversion in people, though. Honestly. One guy took a pair of scissors and lopped off the pigeon's head; the guys in the back were tossing a rat brain around... Yeah. And just think, most of us are pre-med or pre-vet. Comforting, ain't it?

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And in other news, the English portfolio looks like it will be fairly easy, maybe an hour's work tops. Everything else still looks impossible. Oh, and I forgot to mention the paper on Kinorhynchs I have due next week... Joys.

Life, tube. Aquaint yourself with it, it's where you'll be headed over the next couple of weeks.

I would be crying right now if I didn't think it was a waste of time.

I can't take the classes I wanted. Again. As in, I was flat-out informed that I was required to take three lab sciences a semester. Yes. Three. As in, I am not allowed to take fun classes. I'm allowed one non-major-oriented class a semester, and this upcoming semester it will be Horace. I was also informed that Honors students aren't bad at math, all evidence to the contrary, and I already took a test that I specifically remember not taking, thus proving that I can handle Calculus in the Spring and that I don't need Analysis. Instead, I am to take "Applied Biostatistics I" in addition to my Organic Chemistry, General Ecology, and Advanced-level Latin. Because rather than having about four gen eds left, turns out I have two-- Psychology and Fine Arts. And if I take Fine Arts in the Spring when I'm struggling with Calc and all I can take Psychology my senior year, and Greek next year.

"Take APs," they said. "It will give you more free time in your schedule," they said. Well, whoever "they" are, I'm hating them right now. If I didn't have those APs I would have so many more options for non-science courses. Instead I'm to consider myself lucky that I have the minor to do, and at least one semester will be all science courses.

ARGH!!!

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So, what else is bothering me lately... Bisobrina really, really wants to come up and visit me here at school, and she's on vacation this week. Of my remaining weekends, this is far and away the best for that, despite the English portfolio/final thingy I have due next Thursday and the meeting with my fellow TV announcer (for the Bio Lab presentation) I've already set up for 10 on Saturday morning. Plus the Latin presentations start next Friday and I'm praying I can beg my Latin professor to put mine off until Monday; I also have a Chem test next Friday and I absolutely HAVE to take the make-up test for Bio before the reading (for me, studying for the Bio final) days on the 8th and the 9th; I need to get that done next week, preferably Tuesday, possibly Wednesday if Tuesday is ABSOLUTELY undoable...

Okay, let's look at my due dates over the next couple of weeks.

Monday the 30th, Latin quiz.
1st or 2nd, need to take that Bio test.
3rd, English portfolio is handed it.
4th, Chem ACS exam (like a final only not one of his tests, so harder); also, Latin presentations begin (I haven't even started mine).
Monday the 7th, Latin presentations continue.
8th, dry-run of the performance for Bio Lab.
9th, we actually DO the performance.
10th, Bio Final.
11th at 5:30 PM, I get kicked out of the dorm and summer begins.

That's what my life will be like. So obviously if Bisobrina's coming up, it has to be this weekend.

I'd really rather she didn't. I want to see her, but honestly, I wish she'd come visit me over the summer, and I could take her down to the Cape for a weekend and we could chill out on the beach and do cool stuff there, because there's always cool stuff to do at the Cape. But she wants to come here, to UNH, and hang out on campus. Next year she'll be off to school in Connecticut and won't be able/want to visit me here. I'm just worried she wants to be doing cool stuff, like going to parties or something. Which I don't do. So if she's expecting me to have anything exciting planned, she's got another think coming. I don't think there's that much to do otherwise, either. I mean, I guess we could go to a dorm social or something... maybe hang out with Mistake, if she's not too busy with her own crazy study-fest (which seems likely)...

Sigh.

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Oh, and I was supposed to go see my therapist today, but I had a Chem test. So I moved the Chem test to yesterday. Then I was going to have to take the Calculus pretest, so I had to cancel anyway. Upset as I was with this turn of events, imagine my emotions when I went to my meeting with the adviser this morning (right after the bus left) and I was informed that I wouldn't be taking that exam, after all, as I didn't need it... So basically, I missed the appointment for nothing.

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So I'm starved for time and deprived of sleep; I'm scheduled up the whazoo with projects, presentations, and exams; I can't stay awake long enough to study/work on said projects, presentations, and exams; I'm going to be entertaining a high school student who has declared that she wants to meet all the "hot UNH boys" this weekend; and oh yeah, I just learned it's going to be even worse next year...

I need pie.

Quick redirect

This is what I wrote instead of a normal-length blog entry last night. Check out the Dear... site, it's a great idea.

Short post

Today is the Vinalia priora, or Vinalia urbana. It was the day on which the casks of wine from the previous autumn were first opened. They offered a libation to Jupiter/Zeus, and then tasted the wine. I'm sure it was delicious.

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I have very little to say today; it was a gorgeous day, I have no idea how I did on my Chem test but I just hope I didn't fail, and I hate class registration. Oh well.

Another relic of my childhood

It's not the whole thing. But it's one of the funnier scenes from "Hardware Wars."

*can't think of title*

Today isn't a holiday, but I forgot to mention that yesterday was the Palilia, which besides having a cool name was the festival of Pales, a god of shepherds. It was celebrated by offerings of the saved blood from October's sacrifice of a horse to Mars, and the ashes of the calves sacrificed to Ceres. There were no bloody sacrifices that day.

Shepherds burnt sulphur, rosemary, fir-wood, and incense, and made the smoke pass through the stables to purify them. The flocks themselves were then purified by the smoke too. After that, there was feasting and merriment and drunkenness, as all the best festivals have.

It was also somewhere between the 2,800th and the 3,000th anniversary of the founding of Rome. Happy belated birthday, Rome! I'd say you don't show your age, but... Dude. You're kinda smelly. No offense. I mean, it's not like Venice or anything. Now there is a city that needs a good bath.

While you're at it, I'd get rid of the street vendors. They're kind of annoying. Don't they itch?

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I had a teacher in high school who, when a student fell asleep (and especially if said student snored), would quietly gesture to all of us that we should stand up, without making a noise. He would then gently pull down the projector screen enough that the clock was covered. As the students would try to suppress their giggling, he would lead them into the hall, close the doors and turn off the lights. He would then go next door, borrow their phone, and call his own classroom, letting it ring only once so the student would be woken up.

Upon seeing the classroom empty and not being able to see the clock, the student would assume class was over-- in fact, school was over-- and would freak out before he remembered the teacher mentioning this trick at the beginning of the year. One time the teacher even got the vice principal to go in and "discover" the student there.

Only worked a couple of times, though. And we were usually too busy for it. Thus he resorted to throwing stuff at the boys who did it, and banging the desks of the girls. Yes, double standard, whatever.

I've had teachers who slammed your book down on the desk, who would bark your name out, who would call on you to ask you a question. Some, especially here at college, just ignore it. Some ignore it until after class and then they pull you aside to talk about your sleep habits-- that's the worst, because you don't really want to admit that you're tired because you were staying up late reading a blog written by a cat, or a webcomic about a doctor who is also a ninja. So you have to come up with a lie or just cite the fact that you can't have caffeine, despite the fact that people survived for centuries without caffeine and you don't drink coffee anyway...

If I were a teacher I would keep containers of Red Bull in my desk. I wouldn't drink them-- that stuff could kill small mammals-- but I would have them there. Every time a student fell asleep in class I would slam one down on their desk, loud enough to wake them up. Then, though, thirsty students might pretend to fall asleep...

Also, I might get in trouble for distributing drugs. Maybe I should use Vault instead. Except that's no better... I could just liquefy crack...

Anyone got any good sleeping-in-class stories?

No, I don't know why I was thinking about this...

"When you find yourself sitting there with an $18 drink in your hand and no recollection of how it got there, it's probably time to go home."

I went to Boston with Ryter today and met Shrewd for lunch and ice cream with little chocolate cows in it; there I managed to trip multiple times, spill chocolate on myself, spill ice all on my lap and the table, and get insulted by a homeless guy. Yes. A panhandler insulted my choice of hairstyles. It was awesome.

Seriously, I had an awesome time and there was warm weather and spring and blossoms on the trees, and I replaced the drawing pencils I've lost and Shrewd and Ryter seemed to get along on account of them both being snarky.

We passed some Jesus Freaks on the sidewalk handing out pictures of Jesus with a P.O. Box address on the back where you could find him. Ryter took one, saying, "Totally! Awesome." We walked about five minutes and he said, "Wait-- I can't remember. Did I say "Hell yes" when he asked me if I wanted one?" To which I replied along the lines of, "No. But damn, I wish you had."

Plus I totally saw a guy sitting on the sidewalk with a cardboard sign saying "LAWN GNOMES KILLED MY FAMILY. NEED MONEY TO BUY LAWNMOWER FOR REVENGE."

And honestly, topping that level of awesomeness would be pretty damn hard.

"Fungor. That's a cool word. It would make a good name. I am FUNGOR THE BARBARIAN!"

I'm very tired as it is quite late, but man, today was GLORIOUS. Mother Nature is seriously bipolar, because a week ago we had snow and today I was overheated in a tank top as I sat outside during Latin. As half the class had declared "First Nice Friday of Spring" to be a religious holiday, there were only four of us and the professor consented.

It was also Earth Day so I got a pansy that they were handing out at the Earth Day celebration, and I then went to Ace Hardware to grab some pots for both the pansy and the petunia that Ryter gave me. By the way, the petunia's name is Daisy and the pansy's name is Petunia. This makes me smile.

And then Ryter and I hung out, got subs and ate them outside. While we watched Soylent Green at his place (FREAKY movie), his friend came over, the same guy who I've met before, and he brought his roommate and that was cool, met someone new. Didn't screw it up. At least, that's what Ryter told me.

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Rather than actually say anything productive, here's a collection of awesome images I stole from Old Horsetail Snake's blog. He didn't credit it. I find it pretty awesome, but then again, I am oddly amazed and in love with the to-scale model of the solar system in the Museum of Science, where you have to go 9.3 miles away to Riverside Station to get to Pluto. Their sun is twelve feet in diameter and Pluto is the size of a pea.

Another Facebook thing

This isn't as good as the other one. But it's still awesome. DISCLAIMER: This song will be stuck in your head ALL DAY.

Facebook has stolen my brain. Or maybe it was zombies.

Finally the Ludi Cereri ends, and today is the Cerealia, a festival to honor the goddess of the harvest, Ceres/Demeter. It was celebrated, among other things, by a representative search of Ceres for her daughter Prosperina/Persephone. Women in white robes would run around with lighted torches.

Because that's sooooo safe.

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So guess what? Apparently sculpture isn't a gen ed. So it's basically drawing or nothing (Well, or like... Introduction to Theater or Stagecraft or Music for People Who Shouldn't Be Allowed Near Music. But I wanted a visual-arts fine arts gen ed). But I also learned that there is no way I could take the Calculus class next semester, on account of it only being offered in the spring, so if I get placed into that class when I take the test on Tuesday I'll have to wait until spring to take it. This screws up my whole schedule. Great.

---------------------------

I have nothing really to say today. Sorry.

Bwahahahaha....

Ah, Facebook. It is the awesome. And these dudes are the more awesome for singing about it.

Resistans Inutile Est.

Still the Ludi Cereri... Man, this is a long holiday.

---------------------------------------

I get to retake the Biology test that I failed! Awesome. Except now I have to study for it. But at least I won't have a big F dragging down my grade. My professor was very understanding.

---------------------------------------

It's Floor Wars in Hubbard this week. I haven't been participating on account of I don't feel like spending several hours every night watching people make fools of themselves right when I'm busiest. Besides, with everyone down at Floor Wars I have the 3rd floor lounge all to myself, which is AWESOME.

Although I did see one guy on my floor wander down in makeup, a green skirt, and a pick sweater through which you could see his nipples (dark skin + thin, light-colored sweater = transparency). So tonight's show was probably interesting, to say the least.

---------------------------------------

I'm not sure if I should put her in the blogroll or not, but I have to say, Annie Angel has to be my favorite ideological nut on the internet. If you've never heard of her, read her now-infamous "How To Be A Good Christian Wife". It's so incredibly ludicrous.

And that's the beauty of her writing-- no one can figure out if she's being serious or not. As far as I can tell, she really is a Christian and a conservative; but the humor she uses in her pieces, in addition to the fact that she's clearly educated to some degree and using the internet to learn more-- I've lost the link, now, but she was on a anarchy/communism/etc forum asking to learn more. My guess is that she's exaggerating her views to make people think and to share thoughts she might have that you can't say when you aren't anonymous. You do have to notice that the extremist articles tend to get the most comments and readers. She's certainly well known, to the point where she shows up on a forum and people start posting the most extreme points they can find from her blog to flame her.

So why do I like someone who comes across as racist, religiously bigoted, and sexist? Because she's funny, and because she's presenting extreme versions of what some people really believe, so it makes me think. Plus, inadvertently or not, she makes some interesting points about women in Christianity-- namely, if one is a "true Christian" and female, then what about all the writings that say that women need to be subservient to men and honor their husbands as they would Christ and all that jazz? The "Good Christian Wife" post presents an interesting point-- that's basically what some of the New Testament is telling women to do. But Jesus himself (for the sake of argument, let's say he existed; I think he did live and preach, though I don't think he was the son of God) had an unmarried woman in his inner circle (Mary Magdalene-- unless you think she was his wife, but either way she was one of his closest followers and not exactly shunted into the background). He wasn't particularly adverse to women, that was Paul and Peter. Paul wrote it down and Peter put it into the church itself.

So the question arises-- can women be equals in faith? Jesus thought so. Paul and Peter disagreed. But if the Bible is the literal Word of God, then literalist Christians have to believe Paul, and any woman who is independent or a working mom or just not willing to make their husband a nice glass of fresh orange juice every morning is technically going against her faith.

This is why I believe all faiths are composed of truth, filtered through the eyes of those who cannot comprehend it. The trick is to filter through all the different beliefs and figure out what's a true message and what's just interpretation on the part of the messengers.

Short entry today.

And the Ludi Cereri continues...

---------------------------

I felt like I should say something about the shootings at Virginia Tech... I found out yesterday in the dining hall, watching CNN, but it didn't really register with me. I mean, I was like, "Wow, that's terrible," because it's the worst campus shooting in history, but I didn't really think that much about it, you know? It wasn't like September 11th or even just Columbine when no one could talk about anything else. So I kind of pushed it out of my mind.

But then today, after various events made the day suck and I was complaining to Mistake, we went out for drinks to distract ourselves-- me from my day, and her, I discovered, from the fact that a friend of hers who goes to Virginia Tech hasn't been heard from yet, either way. So I immediately started to think about it, and it's very scary. Because that could happen anywhere. It could happen here. It did happen in Virginia and I can't imagine what they're feeling right now.

Every time something like this happens, I feel terrible for all the jokes I make about going postal...

---------------------------

Ryter's power was back on today, so he came and picked up Constantine before I went to lab.

Got back my last Bio test, the one I thought I failed. Guess what? I failed. I got a 44%. I'm going to talk to my professor tomorrow...

Then I went all the way out to Dover to meet with my therapist before I remembered that she changed the appointment to next week, when I have a Chemistry test that I have now had to move a day earlier than anticipated, meaning extra studying on Sunday night. And I had to pay to get a taxi back to campus.

Plus I have to revise a paper by Thursday and my Chemistry teacher is being vindictive.

Great.

Flood days are like snow days only wetter.

I woke up this morning to rain; torrential, wind-blown, miserable rain. I woke up late, thankfully, because I had plans to get breakfast with Libentra to try and make heads or tails of that ridiculous Chemistry homework, and she, unlike Loquatia, does not have a 9 AM class. So we sprinted to Philbrook and then to the lecture hall, where about 150 very damp Chemistry students were gathering.

Taking my regular seat, the girl who sits next to me (we'll call her Anime Girl, because she reads it before class starts sometimes) said, "He said that if you don't have your homework completed, don't bother turning it in-- it's going to either be a hundred or a zero, based on if it's all done." Fabulous. I at least was able to turn in my proof, as the book had gone over that part.

Anime Girl and I talked a bit about the ridiculous weather. I mentioned that College Road was a bit like crossing the path of a fire-hose stream, and she said that it took her 45 minutes to drive in from 15 minutes away because most of the roads were out. In fact, there was only one route on or off of campus. "That's ridiculous," I replied. "You'd think they'd cancel classes."

"Well, they never think of the commuters," was her answer. I frowned. "Actually, that's the only reason they call snow days. I mean, obviously I can come to class regardless, I just live across the street." I flipped out my phone. "I'm going to call the storm hotline."

"Curtailed Operations have been called as of 9:45 this morning..." I returned to the class and alerted my professor, but also mentioned that I understood if he held class anyway, I mean, it was 10:07 and pretty much everyone was there already. When he announced curtailed operations, there was a little cheer-- and then he burst our bubble by clarifying, "But since you guys talk so much, we're a day behind my other class. So I'm teaching anyway. "

Luckily, class was cut short when one of his TAs came in and informed him that the last bus off campus was leaving at 11, so he had to release us in time for people to take public transportation.

--------------------------------------

As soon as I got back I noticed that Ryter was not online. This is basically the surest indicator in the world that his power is out (or that an alien menace has usurped his computer and/or his body and said alien menace has an objection to AIM), so I was expecting his call. He walked over after picking up some emergency candles for his apartment. Yes, walked. In only a sweatshirt. Since I figured you'd have to be insane to walk that distance in the deluge, I was waiting outside for about fifteen minutes...

But when the roads are this bad, it's easier to walk anyway, I guess.

I did homework, he did some writing, then we started talking about plans for the rest of the day-- if the roads weren't too bad, he wanted to go to his dad's house so there was actually power and running water, and food. But they've evacuated one of the towns on his route and there was concern about flooded-out roads and possible dam breakage. We finally elected to walk to the nearby Ace Hardware, grab some supplies, and check his apartment. As we walked, we noticed that the rain had stopped, so he decided to make a break for it and try to get down to his dad's condo before the rain starts up again. That should be happening anytime between 5 and 6. I agreed to watch Constantine, his hard-to-transport Betta fish, and he set out.

The tenuous cease-fire with the weather continues, but this is just a lull. In the next hour the rain will start again and last for the next couple days. Meanwhile much of campus is at least partially flooded. But don't worry about me. I've put in my order for a few hundred cubits of gopher wood (which I'm pretty sure is composed of compressed gophers), and I think if I build it on the roof of Hubbard Hall I'll be fine.

Gave up all hope of finishing the homework tonight.

I met Ryter's father today; we drove down in the rain to his condo and watched an episode of DS9 ("Trials and Tribble-ations," it's hilarious and very well-done special-effects wise) before heading over to Bluefin for dinner.

Now, when Shrewd and I get sushi, we order three rolls (that's like 24 pieces, for those of you who don't eat sushi), then split the bill. If we feel like splurging, we get vegetable tempura as an appetizer. The bill is usually about $30, including tea and tip.

Tonight? We got three appetizers, including octopus (I think I'm not going to eat that again, partially because I felt weird eating it, which indicates to me that octopi are a bit too intelligent for ingestion, and partially because it has the texture of moist eraser); then this huge platter of assorted sushi (I liked the eel), followed by a couple more plates of rolls and dessert. I didn't see the bill. But his dad did mime a heart attack after seeing it.

First time I was ever full after eating sushi, though.

His dad's really nice (and generous), and I saw a lot of similarities between the two of them-- even more than I expected. Wasn't awkward at all, which is more than I can say for when Ryter will eventually meet my dad.

"See you soon, Harry."

More games and festivities as the Ludi Cereri continues...

---------------------------------

My folks needed me to sign my tax forms. Okay, not a big deal... except I'm here and they are there. So when I called last night to get Mummy's go-ahead on another McLean study I intend to do that requires mothers and daughters, she suggested that they would come up on Sunday, but I'm spending much of Sunday with Ryter meeting his dad. Saturday was suggested as an alternative. I figured they'd come up later in the afternoon and call me a few hours ahead of time to let me know when to expect them. Because that would be logical. So I got to bed late.

This morning I woke up to my cell phone ringing. At 8 AM. Fully prepared to scream at whoever had called me that early on a Saturday, I picked it up. It was my mom.

"We're gonna be there in about an hour!"

Argh...

So I'm rather tired tonight, which I am going to blame for my atrocious bowling game. I was not only beaten, I was skunked-- Ryter had TWICE my score for all three games, or at least close to twice. I am not so good at bowling...

---------------------------------

Random conversation:

Shrewd: Blah...
Basiorana: "If the continuum has told you once, it's told you a thousand times: DON'T PROVOKE THE BORG!"
Shrewd: How does my boredom provoke the Borg?
Basiorana: It doesn't.
Basiorana: I just wanted to impart some good advice.
Shrewd: Phew.
Basiorana: You don't LIKE the Borg?
Shrewd: Nope.
Basiorana: I'm sorry.
Basiorana: They like you.
Shrewd: Tough.
Basiorana: Such good assimilation matter...

"Man, I swear I thought you said 'Monogamous relationships are so hard.' I was like, nod and smile..."

Today is the second day of the Ludi Cereri.

--------------------------------

My Chemistry teacher is about ready to go postal on my class. Today the majority of the class was talking the whole time, as usual, and he was getting increasingly frustrated, as usual, and then he started layering on homework assignment after homework assignment, then he started telling us we would have to stay later (not that he could have prevented the leaving, people had a Biology test the following hour), then he finally broke down, spun around to face us, and cried, "Will you all just STOP DISRESPECTING ME?" We quieted.

"Seriously, ALL you guys do is TALK and I've just been trying to be a nice guy and make this class as easy as possible, and you have NEVER respected me. You know this class is the reason I'm quitting teaching? Just this class. I thought you should know, one of my colleagues said this was the worst class he's seen in thirty years. I wanted you to know that."

He turned to face the board, attempting to finish one last problem before we left for the weekend. The conversational murmur began to rise, and he steadily set down the chalk, slowly turned around, and said though tight lips, "You know what? Go. Just go. I'm not gonna care any more."

We left.

Man, Monday is gonna be awkward.

--------------------------------

In yoga today, the instructor randomly said we were doing partner yoga. Uh, partner yoga? Like pair off with someone and have to touch them? Not to mention that there was an even number of people, but an odd number of each gender, and I seemed like one of the only people who didn't know anyone, so I would either wind up with the thirtyish woman in the spandex blue flame pants if someone in the group had their significant other with them, or with a guy. And I would not have tolerated a GIRL touching me as I did yoga. I don't hug my friends or touch people on the arm as I talk, never mind hold their butt in place as I push on their back.

So I left as quietly as I could. Well, not so much "left" as "fled." Hopefully no one noticed... well, except whoever wound up partnered with the instructor because of me...

--------------------------------

Meanwhile I was all set for a Friday night spent talking for a bit with Mistake (Vivacia? I haven't decided), then doing some homework, finishing up my Adventures of the S-Team Submission contest submission and going to bed early, because Ryter was in Massachusetts seeing some movie about anthropomorphic food fighting subway bombs or something. Got the first done, at least, but I was working on my submission when there was a knock on my door. Surprised, I went over and opened it.

It was Ryter, back from Mass and stopping by after dropping off his movie buddy.

So me being sans makeup, with my hair a mess all over the place, wearing junky comfortable clothes, and having barely cleaned my room (I just made it tolerable before Mistake came, not really clean)? That was a problem.

I mean, yeah, like, he didn't seem to mind and he said I looked beautiful anyway, and he'd probably have to see me looking less-than-best eventually, but I check the hall before going to the bathroom in my PJ's and robe to make sure there aren't any males wandering around in the morning.

I am not so good with the surprise visits.

"Mark Twain: Writer. Contemporary Thinker. Plot Device."

Today starts the seven days of the Ludi Cereri, leading up to the Cerelia on the eighth day. These were days of games and festivities celebrating Ceres/Demeter, goddess of the grain and the harvest.

---------------------------------

This was a rather rough morning for me, as the only time I could arrange to meet with my English professor to discuss my latest writing piece, the one on my one glorious day as a door-to-door environmentalist, was at 9:15 this morning. Due to a late night last night and a rough start this morning I found myself arriving at her office sans breakfast. And while she loved the piece (points for me!) by the time the meeting was over I was forced to sprint over to Demerritt Hall for Bio, stopping only to fetch a pop-tart and a Minute Maid cranapple raspberry juice from the vending machine. I felt very Japanese, getting my first meal this way.

Problem: Minute Maid cranapple raspberry juice is like, pure sugar. So are Pop Tarts. I immediately got all sugar-jittery, combined with sleep deprivation, so I was falling asleep but then my hand or my leg would start to shake so bad I'd wake myself up. I'm sure I looked very comical.

Thank god I managed to scarf down something more substantial at HoCo before sprinting over to PLTL...

---------------------------------

And it was raining today. Then it was sleeting. Then it was flat-out snowing.

It's April.

Damn it, stupid weather machine's on the fritz again...

"Special treat: SEA URCHIN SEX!"*

Today is a day sacred to Fortuna Primigenia, the goddess of luck. "Primigenia" is a title meaning "First-bearer."

-----------------------------

Mistake has given up her blog, I'm sad to say, so it's out of the blogroll. Now I'm trying to decide if I want to change her name here. I never liked the name "Mistake" for her because it always makes me feel like I'm saying she is a mistake. I only had it because she picked it out, because of some country song she likes or something, I can't remember her whole explanation.

So, possible names for her include:

-Translating her chosen name into Latin so I don't feel as bad about it: Mendosa. Con: It can also mean "bumbling."

-Amicula: means "dear friend."

-Nessecituda or Propriora: The first is a bit long, but both mean "friend so close she's practically related."

-Vivacia or Vivaxia, meaning "enduring," like our friendship, or "lively" like the friend herself.

Which do you prefer?

(Closer is also off the blogroll because he NEVER POSTS. But his name doesn't really bother me as much. Maybe I'll change his name to Suavidicus or Suavis because it's really funny to imagine Closer as being suave, but it actually means "sweet" or "sweet-talker.")

-----------------------------

My life has been rather crazy lately, and as evidence, I offer you last night, when I got to bed at 2:30 AM after running around doing a Chem quiz online (Blackboard, of course, was not functioning on my computer), and completing my Bio lab notebook for turning in today. I was so tired this morning that I barely stayed conscious in Chemistry and then took a nap afterwards, and missed yoga because of it.

Oh well. It's over now, the rest of the week shouldn't be so bad.

-----------------------------

My Biology professor offered us a choice of final grades for lab. Option A, a standard lab practical; B, a group project going over everything we've learned in lab. Facing the prospect of yet ANOTHER test we went with the group project. After a long discussion in which the loudest or most obnoxious types (Incredibly Hot Guy-- I've found being in a relationship to be an excellent way for me to notice when guys are actually very bossy and domineering) dominated, tempered slightly by the "Take-Charge Young Female Leaders" and Flirts With TAs, who was at least trying to make sure the quieter girls in the back got a word in edgewise on the matter.

Flirts with TAs has a mohawk. This makes me want so much to giggle at him but he was the only one of the leaders who actually let me talk so I felt bad about it.

Anyway, long story short, I am going to be a VH1 host on a segment entitled "Top Five Worst Reality TV Shows." The entries include such gems as "America's Next Top Algae" and "Survivor: Chordata." I believe one entry will involve Flirts With TAs and Incredibly Hot Guy hitting on the professor while discussing angiosperm versus gymnosperm reproduction.**

It will be awesome.

*Professor: I'm sorry, the sea urchin sex demonstration has to be postponed. Dr. Walker hopes that next week he can coax them into giving you little demonstration but it seems that while the males are ready and rarin' to go, the females are a bit reluctant.

[long pause]

Incredibly Hot (Bossy) Guy: Wait, how is that abnormal?

**Angiosperms are flowering plants. Gymnosperms are things like pines without flowers.

Caution: Opinions Ahead

It's the last day of the Megalesia today.

----------------------------------

Mistake blogged today about the same thing I was going to blog about, and since I'm crazy-busy, rather than explain, I'm gonna redirect you to her excellent entry on the subject of the protests on T-Hall lawn [Link has been removed because the blog was].

Quick summary: Students For Life put up very graphic posters on T-Hall lawn comparing abortion to genocide. Students For Choice protested the comparison and the fact that the posters were so very graphic and in a public forum. What few warnings they had posted were ultimately useless. Big fuss.

I saw the protesters surrounding the display as I left Ham-Smith after English, but I didn't go nearer-- in fact, I averted my eyes. I was tempted to go when I first heard about it, because I don't think it's a legitimate or fair comparison at all and I don't think they should be forcing their views in such a graphic manner on everyone who walks by T-hall. But then it occurred to me that I couldn't go, because seeing pictures of genocide means I have trouble eating for weeks. Because the last thing I think about when I see images of the Cambodian killing fields is abortion (actually it's bubbles, but you get the point). No, I think of slaughterhouses.

I don't eat meat. I also don't stop other people from eating it. It's their choice. I hate it, I think it's immoral, but I know that they don't consider it immoral so I let it pass, because I don't know for certain that all mammals have as much of a soul as humans do. I believe it fervently, but I can't prove it. So I can't prove that it's immoral to kill and consume them. Thus I don't protest or even comment when people eat meat around me.

Actually, that's kind of the same way I feel about abortion. I can't prove if fetuses do or do not have as much of a soul as newborns do. I can't prove when they get that soul-- no one can. Thus I don't feel I have the right to protest or even comment when a woman gets an abortion. I mean, if it's so late that the baby could have survived outside the womb and been fine, that's different, I'd disagree with that. But 64% of abortions happen in the first three months. Brain waves have been detected on 13-week fetuses, but is that higher thought? And before then-- no brain function-- does it have a soul?

I know what I believe, I just can't, in good faith, foist it on other people without concrete proof. So until I can I let them make their own decisions, about abortions or about meat consumption. And I try not to let it get to me if people around me are doing things I disagree with. But every time I see a picture of genocide victims the first thing that pops into my head is images of factory farms and slaughterhouses. Then it won't leave my head for about a week, so every time I eat with someone who is eating beef or worse, pork (pigs are incredibly intelligent), I get nauseous because I remember the slaughterhouses and then I remember the genocide and then the next thing you know I'm thinking of cannibalism and I'm about ready to puke.

So I didn't go to the protest.

And now I feel queasy.

So much homework... so, of course, I blog.

It's just the Megalesia again, continued, but I will say that yesterday I forgot to mention it was the birthday of Castor, Pollux, Clytemnestra, and Helen of Troy, the four children of Leda that were born from the eggs she laid after her seduction by a swan.

Castor and Pollux were the twins that we know as the Gemini. For the COMPLETELY uninformed, Pollux was the son of Jupiter/Zeus when he mated with Leda in the form of a swan, and Castor was his brother and the son of Leda's mortal husband Tyndareus, who slept with Leda right after her rape. They were so close to each other that even in death, they couldn't bear the thought of parting and Pollux shared his immortality on Olympus with his brother, at the cost of spending half of each year in the Underworld. They are considered deities presiding over St. Elmo's Fire and horsemanship, and were protectors of guests and travelers.

Castor was born from the same egg as his also-mortal sister Clytemnestra, who later grew up to marry Agamemnon, cheat on him with his steward while he was off fighting the Trojan War, then kill him on his return. Pollux was in the other egg with the infamous Helen of Troy, who-- okay, man, if you don't know who Helen of Troy is, I can't help you. Go read a book. I recommend The Iliad.

------------------------------

Sometimes when I'm having a bad clothes day, when I can't seem to find anything that is clean and that I like, I wonder to myself what Stacy and Clinton would say about my wardrobe. Pure speculation, of course, because even if I did have family or friends that were cruel enough to subject me to What Not To Wear (Shrewd would do it if she thought I needed it, except then they'd interview her and she'd have to be on TV, too), they wouldn't want me because I'm not a tight-leather-pants-at-age-40 level of bad dresser.

Still. One of the common things I hear the little imaginary Stacy in my head say is "That makes you look old." And it's true. Pretty much everything I bought in high school besides a couple pairs of jeans makes me look old. I've been slowly adding to my wardrobe with some tighter T-shirts as I've lost weight and can pull them off, but most of my closet looks like I stole it from someone a decade older than me. The clothes aren't bad, they just don't work for a college student.

Plus I look old in general-- I have emerging laugh lines already, consequences of sun and only learning to care for my skin recently, and then not caring enough to do it all the time. So on a day like today when I do my laundry and I wind up wearing something that adds about ten years, all day long I hear this nagging voice in my head saying "You look old, you look old." Totally Stacy's voice. They say you are your own harshest critic. My harshest critic, style-wise, is a little imaginary stilettoed fashionista who lives in my head and hates my closet.

That's why I hesitate to buy cool stuff like high-heeled red boots. Because Stacy is whacking my frontal lobe with the pointy part of her shoe (wait, it's all pointy) screaming "ARE YOU INSANE??? DO YOU WANT TO LOOK LIKE A HOOKER??? WHY DON'T YOU JUST GET THE MACE AND WEAR IT WITH YOUR BODICE, AND PICK UP EXTRA MONEY ON THE WEEKENDS???"

(Seriously-- anyone who looks at my Ebay history will think I'm trying to become a costumed vigilante or something. A mace, thigh-high heeled boots, and various out-of-print comics [for reference material, of course!]. Well, costumed vigilante or amateur dominatrix with a comic fixation. Not entirely sure which one is worse...)

Can't Spell Easter Without E, A, and T

Happy Easter everyone! As near as I can tell, this is a holiday celebrating when Jesus rose from the dead after being crucified. Jesus came forth from his tomb and went to Egypt, where he enslaved a bunch of rabbits and had them paint eggs, which he then took and started hiding in children's houses all over the world. Then Moses came and freed all the rabbits by taking them to Israel, where they were presumably consumed by Arabs on account of them's good eatin'. Now the pro-Jesus camp celebrates by hiding eggs and the pro-Moses camp celebrates by eating matzo, which is what Moses fed the rabbits.

Now that I've been condemned to Hell by the Muslims and the Christians and the Jews have decided I'm going to some place that is bad after death but they aren't really sure where on account of them not having worked out all the kinks in their afterlife yet (despite having 4000 years in which to do it)...

Maybe I should try studying holidays that are slightly newer than the Megalesia.

"XYYYYYYYYYYYYZZY!!!"

Today is still the Megalasia, it continues until the tenth.

--------------------------------

Why is it that I always come home and eat? There is something about this house that makes me hungry. And it's not just that I'm eating despite not wanting to eat, my stomach is actually growling. I don't get it. This is why I need to work out over the summers, otherwise I'd gain like a hundred pounds.

--------------------------------

Tomorrow is Easter, which you should probably know already but oh well. I'm home for the night, laptop in tow, and Shrewd and I did some cooking for tomorrow and colored a dozen eggs. We won't hide them, but we have a tradition of painting "name eggs"-- eggs with the names of each person who will be eating Easter dinner with us written on them in crayon before the egg is dyed a bright primary color. Shrewd and I expect we will be painting name eggs when we are in our thirties. Everyone eats their own name egg, and the leftovers, also brightly colored, are divided up among us.

My great-aunt, the one who took me to the Christmas Revels last December, will be having Easter supper with us, along with her (male) life partner/significant other to whom she is not married (Her (M)LP/SOTWSINM for short). There will probably be mild interrogation and a slide show of my mother's recent trip to Hawaii.

--------------------------------

Speaking of which, she brought me gifts! A lei made out of nuts instead of flowers (and if you have a dirty mind like mine, that's pretty funny), and a lovely pearl necklace and earrings. And a book of Hawaiian mythology, filled with names I can't pronounce and cool stories I intend to read after I get done with both my homework and Ryter's most recent novel piece he sent to me for editing. So... some light summer reading. Too bad it's an inch and a half thick.

--------------------------------

Oh, and Shrewd wins the prize for best insult, today. I believe the conversation went thusly:

We were dyeing eggs, and at one point she said, "I like the eggs that aren't at all a natural color."

I, in the best example of my witticism, replied, "You're not a natural color."

"Yeah, well, you're polka dotted," she retorted.

"Really? Awesome! That would be so cool!"

"Dude, have you seen pictures from when you were twelve? I mean, hello, facewash."

It wins the prize for best insult because with her delivery, I was laughing harder than she was.

--------------------------------

But it's late, and we have company tomorrow, so I'm off...

Blarghus.

It's the third day of the Megalesia. It's also National Tartan Day, and I celebrated like a true Scot, wearing my MacRae clan tartan sash (for my dad's side) with my Maclachlan pin (for my mom's), over my Celtic bodice (because I don't get to wear that enough, and I thought Ryter would find it amusing, interesting, or both).

Bodice all day, not so comfy. Plus I have to wear tighter pants than usual or the shirt I wear underneath it puffs out funny. Funnier than usual, that is. The bodice was really designed for the me of three inches ago, when we first started to assume I was done with the growing upwards bit, so it doesn't quite meet the pants... I can wear it without the shirt and not have the puffing problem but that's a tad, uhm, revealing...

-------------------------------

I was watching Creationist videos on YouTube today. Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm a weirdo, but I actually found them interesting nbackground noise as I was painting my nails. I was playing a little mental game of "spot the bad science" and then it occured to me that if that was a drinking game I would have been shitfaced in about five minutes.

But learning how there are apparently "no transitional forms" despite the THOUSANDS of transitional forms did wind up serving me well, because Loquatia wandered back in while I was watching them. She was rather confused when I told her I was learning about creationism, but then I explained that I liked to learn about the different views even if I don't believe in them.

So I'm one step closer to my eventual goal of corrupting her into opening her mind a little, and stop her from thinking that just learning about a different belief (or tested and proven scientific theory) is enough to get her damned to Hell for all time or something.

Also, she asked me if Kent Hovind was in it. She got this big smile on her face as she said his name, but I had to burst her bubble by informing her that her creationism hero a) is wrong so often that CREATIONISTS think he's a dumbass, b) "graduated" with a degree in Christian theology from a non-accredited "college" which is essentially a trailer in the desert somewhere, and c) is currently serving a 10 year jail term for tax fraud because "all his money belongs to God"-- but he's free to use it for now.

At least now she knows that there are other creation scientists out there that aren't such easy target practice for evolutionists as Kent Hovind. Not that they aren't easy, they just aren't AS easy.

I have no problem with creationism. I have lots of problems with creation science. I'm not attacking a religion, I'm attacking people who say that the only way a faith can stand up is if every component is 100% accurate and literally interpreted. And yet, I would convert in an instant if someone gathered up one of every known species in Africa, Asia, and Europe-- I'll leave out the ones where the animals couldn't have walked to Mesopotamia-- and proved that they could all fit in an ark of the Bible's specifications, with room left over for all the species that the creation scientists think have just died out since then-- the animals that evolutionists call "transitional forms" but creationists call "completely different species that have since become extinct."

If someone fit all of those, including males and females-- or even just pregnant females-- of the 509,000 insect species that are know today, and the 2,000 rodent species, into an 450-foot-long wooden ship and proved it was seaworthy, I would become a biblical literalist. Until then, I'm gonna go with "it's a metaphor."

All this thinking is making me sleepy. Or maybe it's the fact that it's 3 AM.

"The Day After the Day After Tomorrow: Electric Giant Terrestrial Land Squid Bugaloo."

It's the second day of the Megalesia, and this time I actually know how this festival to Cybele was celebrated. Yesterday a sacred black stone of Cybele was brought to Rome from Phrygia, and then there is a sacrifice of herbs and then the eunuch priests carry Cybele's image, wearing a crown, through the city to the music of tambourines and flutes. They dance alongside it, beating themselves in ecstasy.

Then everyone feasts, watches the games and the plays, and has a grand old time.

It's also a day sacred to Fortuna Publica, the Luck of the People.

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The snow that didn't fall yesterday did wind up serving me well today, as classes were canceled. I woke up early anyway, though, because my alarm went off with a great blaring noise that scared the bejeezus out of me and made me spring out of bed like my butt was on fire, which at the time I thought it was because it sounded like a fire alarm. Luckily the truth was explained by Loquatia before I ran out of the room in my PJs, all ready to go stand out in the snow...

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I went back to sleep after that, to be awoken at 9:30 when Ryter called. His power was out, and he needed to know if operations were curtailed. Then he called again on account of there was a tree down over his road, so he couldn't go anywhere... Eventually he wound up walking over here and we hung out all day and watched the rest of The Future is Wild on DVD.

Dorm beds are really not made for two people.

And I think we weirded out Loquatia.

At about 5 we wandered back to his place to see that the tree was removed but the power wasn't on, so we went to the mall, and I got a new fish! His name is Menelaus and he's yellow with iridescent scales that change color in the light. This is kind of exciting, I've never had a yellow Betta before. Probably more inbred than the Pharaohs, but he's pretty. He's not in the big tank, though, because I think that Deiphobus might have a slight case of popeye which I am currently treating in the main tank.

Also at the mall I got a ring from that store I mentioned before that has buckets of them, after we went to Hot Topic, a store that makes me laugh, and it was decided that Ryter needs to doll me up as a goth for a day, so I can take pictures and frighten my parents. And then he got me earrings shaped like maces, because they are my favorite form of medieval weaponry and he's a sweetie.

I think the amount of guilt I feel when he spends money on me means either I am very, very bad at this girlfriend thing, or I am very, very good...

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Tonight was the room draw, where we get new roommates. I haven't decided on a name for the girl I will be rooming with-- Loquatia's name has taught me not to assign monikers before I know more about the person-- but she was specifically looking for a quiet, non-partying roommate and I'm about as much of that as you can get. I'm like the anti-party. I arrive, and the party leaves, because otherwise it collides with me and together we unwrite the universe or something.

Actually I have no idea, I don't get invited to parties.I'm just speculatin'. But yes, roommate, quiet, not likely to pass out shitfaced on my bed or attack me with an axe in my sleep. Excellence!