Friday, June 29, 2007

After cleaning my bedroom, take 1...

Friends and FamilyA
Finance / CareerD
Your Life's Average Grade: B
'What is your Life Grade?' at

I fail at financial independence, it seems. And I'm slowly killing my body. But my brain is A+ material!

Thursday, June 28, 2007

"Is it my hair? My overbite? The fact that I've worn the same clothing day in and day out for the past four years?"

Guess what? My blog is apparently quite risque.

Online Dating

Mingle2 - Online Dating

This is due to keywords. Apparently it's very provocative to describe someone as "anal" retentive, or say something "hurts," or complain about how your "sex" is treated. Or talk about how teens shouldn't be having sex or doing "drugs."

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Trekkies in Paradise

My mom got back from Las Vegas today. She was on a business trip. She didn't gamble, not once, which I wasn't aware was possible in Vegas, but she did go to Star Trek: The Experience. My mom always struck me as someone who belonged more on Vega than in Vegas... But she brought back a bona fide plastic light-up phaser pistol, a CD of a Spock and Q comedy routine, a book of the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition, and various T-shirts including one "Legalize Romulan Ale" one for my sister.

I must go to this museum now...

"Is the Space Pope reptilian?"

Today I dragged Ryter up to Concord to see the planetarium. The show was kind of lame, which was a bummer because sometimes the shows there are pretty good, but this one seemed to be designed for people who knew absolutely nothing about outer space. It's especially bummerful because I had kind of been hoping to prove to Ryter that there are some fun things to do in this state. He has this idea that we have to go to Boston to do anything outside of his apartment besides go to a mall. And yes, most of the attractions in New Hampshire seem kitchsy to a kid who once lived in New York, but I love this state and I've been finding stuff to do in it for nineteen years. I wish I could find a way to show him that New Hampshire's more than just the state with the most legal ways to get yourself killed.

Anyway, any hope I had to convince him that we're not a bunch of rednecks and Massachusetts transplants was kind of dashed by the drive up there and back, during which we saw:

1. A church mounted on cement blocks
2. Kids kicking a soccer ball at a 10-ft-high wooden cross in someone's yard
3. A daycare called "Precious Angels"
4. 10 antique stores
5. 20 crafts stores, most of which were all in a row
6. A place to buy large wooden moose cutouts for your yard
7. A guy wearing his shirt around his head instead of on his back, army fatigues and workman's boots, sitting in a Jeep with no doors, with himself and his Jeep completely coated in mud as if he'd been splashing around in it for hours
8. A guy with a beer belly in a wife beater and Birkenstocks, duct taping a TV antenna to his chimney
9. Giant bales of hay with white tarps over them, which I at first glance assumed were giant marshmallows
10. And the piece de resistance-- a guy flying the Confederate Flag beneath the American one. Yes. The Confederate flag. In New Hampshire. Less than 100 miles from Canada. In the second most Yankee state in the Union, after Maine.

After all, as Ryter says, the unofficial state motto is: "New Hampshire: At least it's not Maine."

After the show we went to a mini-golf course that would have been much more fun if it hadn't been in the 90's and very sunny, and if we hadn't been hungry and the restaurant out of most food, and if Ryter hadn't been worried about his lizard getting overheated with the lights on and all. Plus Ryter was already kind of irritated about the show not being very good.

Best part of the show, in my opinion, was the guy behind us who, when the presenter asked if we had any questions, said, "Yeah, where's Heaven?"

I know that New Hampshire's not exactly fast-paced and exciting, but there's a lot of great things about it. I mean, the White Mountains are awesome and there's tons to look at, like American Stonehenge and Flume Gorge, and it's beautiful in fall. I guess it helps that I grew up here, and I don't expect excitement to jump out from behind our lovely fall foliage. I like apple picking and meandering down the Appalachian trail and going swimming in a snow-fed river that's so cold you turn pink. I like historical reenactment villages and Canobie Lake, the one amusement park that's nothing compared to a Six Flags. I like the outlet stores in North Conway and walking on rocky beaches and peering at tidepools at Odiorne Point, holding starfish in my hands. I like the Deerfield Fair, where you can stare at giant horse butts and watch people train oxen, and eat various fried foods that are probably toxic. I love the Highland Games, the one place where you can see some of the world's strongest men wear kilts and throw tree trunks, and buy tie-dye kilts and listen to bagpipes echoing softly through the mountains. Hell, I've been to Maine, and I like it there, too.

It makes me sad when people from out-of-state, from cities, look at New Hampshire and see rednecks, transplants and Thoreauian poets. The most that they can say for this place is that there's some pretty scenery, fireworks and guns are legal (though not smoking in bars anymore-- we have a Democratic state government now), and there's no sales tax. And it's not

Monday, June 25, 2007

"Oh my god, he was ABDUCTED BY NINJAS!"

Today is the Ludi Tauri Quinquennales, horse races held every five years to honor the gods of the underworld. It lasted two days.


I will now issue a statement you will almost never hear from a teenage (and for the next four months, I'm still a teenager): My mother was right.

She once told me that I had an impressionable personality and that she feared that I, much more than my siblings, would fall victim to peer pressure. Well, I didn't-- when it comes to things that matter, I hold my ground. But that doesn't mean I'm not impressionable. It's like... I picture myself as a clay sculpture built around a steel frame; on the inside, I'm steadfast and I hold by my convictions, when there's something important and crucial to who I am. But on the outside, I'm malleable. In fact, I have a tendency to pick up the traits of people I am around. This can be a good thing, because it makes it easier for me to get along with a variety of people. It means I'm adaptable, which is important.

My personality is impressionable in other ways too, though. My personality will change just by something as simple as putting on a different style of clothing. I love dressing up, whether it's a costume or just clothing that I wouldn't normally wear, like a party dress. I take on the very personality that the clothing conveys, to a certain extent. I mean, it's not like if I dyed my hair black, greased it down, painted my eyes red and black and put on emo clothes I'd start cutting myself, but I would start to feel a little angsty and not just because I trashed my hair.

I love to dress up because it changes my personality. I've mentioned before that I have all these rules that I force upon myself. When I wear a costume, and my personality changes a little because of it, I can shed my rules, if not all the way then a little. It's liberating.

So yes, my mother was right. I am impressionable. I just don't think that's really a bad thing, at least until I start hanging out with tattooed murderous biker dudes. That would be bad.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

"Of all the creepy gross fish-monsters on this planet, you are apparently the hottest."

Today was rough. Some heavy books about pirates fell off a top shelf and hit a little boy on the head, so there was much rushing about and getting of ice and getting of ice packs from the staff first aid kit which made a lot more sense. Bah.


It took me half an hour to figure out that the toy in the picture at right is called a Water Wiggler (finding the picture took another ten minutes). I feature Water Wigglers today because they are one of the more interesting toys featured at the Discovery Channel store, and we have plastic balls filled with fake bloody eyeballs.

You may remember that I have a quest to mock modern toys. Alas, this is not really a modern toy. I used to love these things as a kid, because they're squishy and they slip out of your hands when you try to hold on to them. They're totally pointless. They do nothing. If a kid actually owned one instead of just playing with the ones in the store, they'd get bored of it post-haste.

I wouldn't have thought anything of them except that I happened to see a pink one end-on. I thought, Hmm, that looks kind of weird, but chalked it up to my gutterbrain and moved on. Then I saw someone put their hand into the middle and push it back and forth on their hand idly, and now, I can't look at the damn things without thinking that it's creepy that a children's toy resembles something I saw featured on Talk Sex (I was...flipping through channels...).

On the other hand, I'd buy my kid a Water Wiggler before I'd buy them a Bratz doll. No child would ever understand why it's weird. I'd probably also buy them a Water Wiggler before I bought them the fake bloody eyeball bag. Or the box of sticky dismembered body parts. You know, girl's toys are increasingly sexual, but boy's toys are just nasty.

Friday, June 22, 2007

My inner elbow is sticky and vaguely orange.

I donated blood today. The actual bleeding took half the time it was supposed to, which I thought was interesting. There are a couple of annoyances with giving blood, though. The first is the waiting. You spend more time waiting than actually donating. Then there's the questions.

"Have you ever been outside the country in the past three years? You need to remember every country, and the cities in that country, that you visited."
"Have you ever been to Africa or had sex with someone from Africa?" Because any connection to Africa and your blood is TARNISHED BEYOND REPAIR.
"Does any of your family have any of these diseases that you can't pronounce and have never heard of before?"
"Have you ever had sex with a man who has had sex with another man?" This is by far the most awkward question of the lot. Because while I can just say no, of course, it's like, uhm... what?

If you think about it, in this day and age that question's not even practical any more. I mean, the concern with having had sex with a man who has had sex with another man is that man-on-man tends to mean anal sex and anal sex is high-risk for HIV. That's why HIV initially spread primarily among gay men. But these days as many straight people are infected as homosexuals and as many women as men, and hetero couples have anal sex as well. Wouldn't the question be better phrased as "Have you ever had sex with a person who regularly engages in anal sex?" or "Have you ever engaged in anal sex?" It's not about being PC, it's just that it makes no sense to blame one group for a risky behavior when that risky behavior is practiced equally by all groups.

Then again, I don't think they ever take out screening questions from their list, they just add more on. And more and more and more...

Third problem-- afterwards I felt kind of drained (ha ha, no really) and weak, and thanks to a scheduling confusion with Alex and the car I wasn't able to eat before work, so I was sore and weak from both factors. I ate on my break but I was already feeling lousy.


I got dinner at this Mexican semi-fast-food place and the girl behind the counter recognized me. She asked if I went to UNH. I said I did. She said, "Oh, I think I saw you there, when I was working..." It took me a few minutes before I realized she was the omelette girl at HoCo. Who I only ever saw at HoCo, where I almost never ate, while hundreds of other people came through there every day. And yet, she remembered me.

I was torn between "flattered" and "creeped out." It was a bit surreal.


I realized something as I was straightening up at work today. I was looking for Christmas gifts. That's not really unusual, I did that at TJ Maxx, too, and the Discovery Channel store is going out of business and all so I figure I should get some shopping done before the end of the summer.

What was unusual is I was thinking about getting a gift for Ryter.

You know, it first struck me on Tuesday when I was talking to him about going to the Highland Games in the fall. I was never obvious about it, but you know, before Tuesday I'd never allowed myself to believe this would last longer than a couple weeks. I wasn't planning long-term. I've never planned long-term for relationships; I just assume that they'll end soon and prepare myself for it. That way I'm not concerned when they do.

So now I'm suddenly realizing that I am planning ahead, I'm expecting this to last a while, and it's kind of scaring me because I feel like I'm setting myself up for a fall. Like I'm afraid that now that I'm actually starting to feel safe in this it's going to end, and instead of just taking a deep breath and going back to bemoaning my singleness I'm going to really get hurt.

I'm trying to ignore that fear, though. I need to overcome this. It's just a matter of facing it.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

"Ooo! Anonymous book gifts! How DEVIOUS!"

Guess where I'm working? Again?

The same daycare I used to work at. Yeah, I decided to pick up some hours there, part-time. I needed a second job to get my mom to stop complaining. Well, and to make some money. Plus this job has the advantage of never requiring me to work nights or weekends, because it's not open then.


So remember when I was talking about buying a pair of red boots? Well, I found a pair on ebay that was only $20, so I went ahead and bought them. They're a little beat up so I'm gonna buy one of those vinyl repair kits and fix them up. There's nothing to be done about the lack of zipper, though. They take like ten minutes to get on. Each.


Today I died a little inside because some dude collecting for DARE (the government-endorsed recruiter for teen drug users!) asked me, presumably to launch a pitch about saving them through the power of telling them all the street names and positive effects of taking illegal drugs, if I had any kids.

If. I. Had. Kids.


I'm nineteen! Nineteen year olds don't usually have kids! Especially not kids old enough that they're worried about them getting involved in drug trafficking!

This makes all those times I've been called "ma'am" pale in comparison...

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Window seat?

I rented Idiocracy, Night at the Museum, and Thank You for Smoking last night. Night at the Museum was really fun, but I expected it to be; I suggest people see Thank You for Smoking, because it's very funny and good. Idiocracy, though, was interesting not because the movie itself was good-- it was kind of moronic most of the time. But it had an interesting idea behind it-- that in the future, people will be less intelligent because natural selection no longer applies and the intelligent people don't breed as much.

The problem was, I watched it with my parents (it wasn't my idea, they sort of decided they were going to watch it with me) and Daddy spent the whole time mocking my taste in movies. Despite the fact that I had no idea what the content was like before I saw it, I mean, I didn't expect it to be riddled with literary references but I didn't realize just how idiotic the future-society was going to be.

Anyway, then afterwards we were discussing the population explosion, and how the way to fix the problem presented by the movie should not be for the educated people to have more children, but for everyone else to have less. Mummy then said that she could be excused for having three children instead of just replacing herself and Daddy on the grounds that my uncle is childless, so I laughed at her (it's okay, she was joking anyway) and tried to explain to Mummy the concept of Quiverfull. Daddy then interrupted and said, "Oh, that sounds like the Catholics."

"No, it's actually the Protestants," I replied, "See, it's--"

"That's not a Protestant idea."

"Well, yeah, it--"

"Nope. Catholics. Protestants aren't the ones overbreeding."

"It's just a group of Pro--"

"That's no Protestant group I've ever heard of."

At this point I was very frustrated, because a) Quiverfull is most DEFINITELY Protestant, Catholics allow natural family planning and Quiverfillers don't; besides, they're Protestant in origin; and also, of course Daddy's not that exposed to Quiverfull philosophy, he's Congregationalist and that's as 2 kids and a dog New Englander as you get (That's not an insult, Congregationalism is one of the Christian groups I like best on the grounds that they've usually read the Bible, or at least the SparkNotes version). Anyway, I was more than a little irritated that Daddy was basically accusing me of lying about something that it would be pointless to lie about. Finally I told him to just LET ME FINISH and I explained the Quiverfull idea to Mummy, and he said, "Oh, that's like southern Baptists, they're not really Protestants."


Anyway, he proceeded to say, "Either way, it's their right, they can do whatever they want as long as they aren't hurting anyone."

So I pointed out that the population is currently 6.6 billion on a planet that can really only sustain about 1 billion, and that we will eventually run out of arable land even if we DON'T increase the population.

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, "There's tons of land lying fallow in the US right now because the crops won't sell."

"Okay, so the US might be okay," I replied. "At least for a while. But what about all the other countries, like on other continents? I mean, Africa's environment wasn't really designed to sustain cash crops."

"Africa's famine problems have nothing to do with the land, it's just that they have government problems. I mean, they used to farm there all the time. It's just that the farmers don't understand crop rotation."

"No, they farmed for a few decades, the land dried up and died or lost the essential nutrients needed to sustain the crops, and the Europeans moved on to new land." (Keep in mind I was stammering through all of this, so it didn't sound very powerful).

"You have no idea what you're talking about. All of Africa's problems stem from the fact that they have poor leadership. With the right techniques they would be fine. I mean, the land had all those rich rain forests, of course they can support crops."

"Totally different set of nutrients and distribution of them though the soil, Daddy. If sub-Saharan Africa was so ideal for farming, why didn't the Africans have large-scale farming before the Europeans came?"

"There was agriculture for centuries in Africa. The problems with the land are recent developments. You just aren't going back far enough."

"I'm talking about BEFORE THE EUROPEANS CAME. I'm going back tens of thousands of years, how far back are YOU going?"

"Look, people have been saying we'll all die out in fifty years for centuries, and it hasn't come true yet. Look at Malthus."

"He had a point, he just didn't take into account other factors, like technology. The fact that he thought the end was coming like a century ago doesn't mean that it's not coming eventually. We can't sustain our current population growth forever. At 10 billion it will become impossible to sustain ourselves unless we get some incredible technological marvels in the meantime."

At this point my dad just shook his head. "Where are you getting your information from? It's ludicrous."

I raised my eyebrows and retorted, "The latest biological and ecological studies, as learned about in my classes at school, you?"

I really, really wanted him to say something about the corn industry or something, but he just shook his head and went off about how short-sighted I was and how I was underestimating the human race, and I was just getting madder because every time the human race fixes it's problems it creates three more for it's kids and twenty-five for every other species. So I gave up, said, "You know what, I can't talk to you about this, I'm done" and left the room.

My dad's Libertarian and into personal responsibility. I am too. The difference is, he figures "if it doesn't hurt anyone but yourself immediately it doesn't hurt anyone but yourself," and I think about the long-term effects of things. And not just long-term in one person's lifespan, which he sometimes does consider. Really long-term. He sees no problem in people having 20 kids because that's their right and they aren't breaking any laws, and they're only hurting themselves. I think first of the fact that the kids might be harmed, but I'm willing to admit that the brainwashing most Quiverfull kids get is the same as they would get if they were raised by non-Quiverfull fundies, and a lot of kids from ultra-conservative backgrounds turn out okay. More importantly I think of the fact that they're both contributing to the over-religiousification of America, by outbreeding the people (like my dad, come to think of it) who want separation of church and state, and they're causing the drastic overpopulation of our planet thanks to the fact that Darwin still hasn't produced a sufficiently dangerous predator to slim down our numbers. So yeah, I'd say they're hurting people.

Do I think having kids should be illegal? Of course not. But I'm a firm believer in a two-child limit, which, combined with the fact that many people don't have kids, would slowly decrease the population (but this can't be done just by the US, it would have to be done by everyone, and would be hard to enforce either way-- yeah, I'm not stupid enough to think it would work, don't worry). Me? I will give birth to ONE child, if all goes according to plan. That way I get to experience the miracle of childbirth and pass on my genes and blah blah blah. Then, because I am also a firm believer in sibling-less children being a VERY BAD IDEA, I will adopt one or two extra kids who need homes.

Do my part to decrease the population AND take care of the abandoned loinspawn of people who aren't doing their parts? That ought to make up for the fact that I fought with my dad on Father's Day.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Graduation #3...

Today was Bisobrina's graduation party. I baked a batch of cookies that didn't come out quite right but were close enough, grabbed my swimsuit and my work clothes for afterwards, and headed out. I stopped to get a card in which to put the $40 my parents pulled together as a graduation gift, and headed up to Bow, NH. On the way I realized, a bit late, that I was on a toll road. I proceeded to spend way too much time digging 75 cents out of my coin purse, swerving all the way, and in this manner I passed a parked state trooper.

I have no idea why he didn't stop me...

Anyway, I made it safely to her place, where I proceeded to spend several hours standing around awkwardly and talking to either Bisobrina (when she was available), her biological mother who I had never met before, or some of her female friends with names I promptly forgot except I think one of them was Millie, which I thought was a funny name for a 17-year-old. I left when the female friends had all left en masse to be replaced by the second wave of friends, all male.

It wasn't too bad. I did overhear something interesting, too. See, I was really confused as to why Bisobrina's birth mother was so keen on reentering Bisobrina's life, considering that she gave her up because she was a teen mother and that's not the sort of thing one usually wants to be reminded of. But then I heard her talking to another woman there, and the woman said, "Oh, you must be so pleased to see how well she's doing," and Bisobrina's birth mother replied, "Oh, yes, very much. This is what you always hope for, you know?" and all of a sudden I understood.

I can't imagine someone giving up a child, for any reason, and not second-guessing their choice, or at least feeling a little guilty or worried that the kid's not well taken care of. It must be nice, all these years later, to learn that they were adopted by a doctor's family with an enormous house with an incredible view, and sent to private school, and that they're graduating with good grades and going on to university. It means that she can absolve herself of all guilt and know her daughter was better off. Considering the horror stories told about kids who get dumped into the foster system or adopted and then abused it must have been the biggest relief ever to know that her decision was undeniably for the best.


After the party I went to work. I wore a pair of old slingback flats in, and considering that I had issues with losing them as I walked across the parking lot, I figured this was a bad idea. Luckily, Payless is two stores down. I went in and got a pair of black heeled pumps that were so unbelievably comfortable (for 2 1/2 inch heels, especially) that they were preferable, and I broke them in at work. This may have been a bad idea. Two hours later, I had blisters on the tops of my feet where the shoes rubbed as I walked and my feet were sweating.

So, on my 15 minute break, I raced over to CVS, then Payless, to try to find those socks that don't show over the edges of your shoes. That was much better. I mean, my feet hurt after I got done with work but that can only be expected when the only time you sit down in 4 hours is to put socks on.


You can tell it's summertime because I consider the status of my footwear to be interesting. I think I shoudl stop writing every day...

Friday, June 15, 2007

I'm blue, babba-dee babba-die...

Third day of the Quinquatrus Minores.


Okay, now here's something fascinating.

Apparently there was a whole... well, clan of people living in Kentucky who had a rare hereditary blood condition that turned their blood very dark brown and their skin blue, much the same way our skin is blue when the veins are near the surface. This is a very recessive trait and the four families who were affected by it only got the disorder because their ancestor, Martin Fugate, was a carrier and he happened to marry a woman who was also a carrier, which was a massive improbability but happened anyway. Four of the Fugates' seven children were blue. Normally the gene pool would have reabsorbed the abnormality and they wouldn't have been blue, but it was a tight-knit community of only four families and they intermarried a bit, getting a reputation in the area as the "Blue Fugates."

Thanks to the wonders of modern travel, the Fugates aren't intermarrying with others who have the genetic abnormality at anywhere near the same rate, and the gene is in recession once again. Not that it matters, anyway, there's a pill that can fix it now. Can you imagine taking a pill every day for fear your skin would turn blue again? Plus the pill itself is also a blue dye, so it turns their urine blue.

This story is particularly interesting to me because my X-men stories feature a family with blue skin. I love when my fantastical ideas turn out to have scientific basis. It's a warm fuzzy feeling, much like how I imagine the fundamentalist archaeologists feel when they find evidence of the Great Flood. Except their fantastical ideas came from somewhere other than my overactive imagination...

Thursday, June 14, 2007

"No simulated brains! I want real brains." -Voyager

Today is the second day of the Quinquatrus Minores. It lasts three days total.


So today was a royal pain in the ass.

I mean, I got to go eat sushi with Shrewd, which was cool, but also led to the whole problem...

So this morning, my mother woke me up by sticking her head into my room, because there's no privacy in this house, and informing me that the Brother had the car. I promptly fell back asleep, not really caring that much, since I expected I could get a ride from my sister when I went to the gym.

However, at about 11:30 The Brother returned home, having finished his finals. I talked to him a little, then he got a phone call, and informed me that he had to go volunteer at the elementary school or something. I said, "Do you need the car?"

"No," he replied, "I'm getting a ride."

"Okay, I was going to go to the gym later, that's why I asked. Sure you don't need it?"

"No, I'm good."

I went out to sushi, went to the gym, got back, and The Brother said, "Oh, you're home. I needed the car. Missed a Spartans parade."

"Oh, god, really? Man, I'm sorry. You should have said something."

"Nah, it's okay. I have more time to do my English project. I didn't really tell you to get back, s'not really your fault."

This all seems straightforward, right?

Then, Daddy gets home. He asks why the Brother isn't at Spartans. The Brother says he didn't have the car.

Daddy proceeds to yell at me for ten minutes. Did I point out that it wasn't my fault? Yes. Did I point out that there was absolutely no logic in blaming me for his failure to inform me that he needed the car when I asked him? Yes. Did it matter? Not a whit. Apparently I am, in fact, my brother's keeper and I am supposed to keep track of his schedule so he doesn't miss anything. Like I don't already answer the damn phone for him all the time.

Then Shrewd sided with Daddy, at least partially, and said that I should have known better than to think that I could get a straight answer out of anyone in this house. So basically it's all my fault because I assumed that "No I don't need the car" meant "No I don't need the car."

My father's selective hearing is on full-blast today. For example, the following conversation:

Daddy: [Shrewd], would you mind terribly if your mother and I went out to eat tonight?

Shrewd: Oh, sure, I mean, I have food here, but...

Daddy, to my mom on the phone: [Shrewd] wants us to eat dinner here.

Ryter suggested I dye my hair a funky color. I tried to explaining that I don't actually want more attention, just to not be yelled at for something I didn't do wrong. Grr...

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

I owe my mom like $500 right now.

Today is the Quinquatrus Minores, a festival sacred to Minerva/Athena of the Flute-players. On this day the tibicines, flute-players, went through the city in a procession that ended at the Temple of Minerva.


Yesterday was Ryter's birthday, so I headed up to visit him, complete with my gift of wood for Jesus (his lizard, not the Messiah. You know, the name hay-ZOOS works better when you're talking than writing). The gift was technically for Ryter but Jesus was the one who would benefit from it.

The lizard's very cute. He's spiky and looks grumpy lots of the time but cute-grumpy and he's very gentle, peaceful, and friendly, and he seems to really like Ryter. He eats right out of his hand already.

I also gave Ryter cupcakes that spelled out "Happy Birthday" because this one time we were talking about birthdays at school as a kid, and he mentioned that he never got to have cupcakes with his classmates because he has a summer birthday. So I decided that while I was not going to be able to provide him a chance to eat cupcakes with snot-nosed youngsters, that was probably for the best anyway and eating cupcakes with Loquelo, Nonaestima, me, and a bearded dragon observer was probably just as good if not better.


Today was my first day of work. It was okay, but a little boring. There was the obligatory awkward sexual harassment video, followed by a short film on How To Be An Obnoxious Salesperson. Then they stuck me out on the floor and said I was to greet people, assist as needed, try to push the stuff, and meanwhile look around and try to memorize the contents of the store.

But hey, eight bucks an hour, and the other people working there seem really nice, and I do know the merchandise there pretty well, since every time I went to the mall for job applications I stopped in, and my manager actually said I looked familiar, which was both interesting and kinda sad. Okay, really sad. Really, really, really...

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

No entry today, I have work tomorrow and I got back late.

Monday, June 11, 2007


Today is the Matralia, a holiday to honor the goddess Mater Matuta. The matrons of the town would offer cakes baked in earthenware pots to her, and they carried their neices and nephews (not their own children, those of their sisters) in their arms and prayed for their welfare.



Well, sorta. I'm working the cash register at the Discovery Channel store, which is going out of business and needs help for the big "get rid of everything" sale. So this is only until early or mid August, but it's a job, and the hours are flexible so I can work part-time if I get another job.

Plus, eight bucks an hour. Schweet.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

"Disclaimer: Any resemblance to actual robots would be pretty cool."

My entire day was consumed by mowing the lawn and then trying to regain energy after mowing the lawn. I wish we had a riding mower, except that really, really wouldn't work since the backyard is on a 45 degree angle and I would tumble to my doom, to be discovered by my parents later, who would then have to pull the riding mower off my crumpled body. And you know that's not a fun way to spend a Sunday.

Saturday, June 9, 2007

Minor rantings...

My entire family was supposed to go to the Cape this weekend, but alas, torrential rains in the morning prevented that; I had just settled down on the couch in the hopes of watching Dogma without having my dad sitting in the room and making jokes about my choice of film, regardless of the fact that he saw it before I did, when my parents came back form breakfast or something and Daddy plopped down in his big chair and that was the end of that.

I was really, really hoping I'd get some time to myself. I wanted to clean the house without people around. You know, I got halfway through cleaning the kitchen today and took an hour break, and when I returned there was a whole new set of pots to clean? And then, no sooner had I cleaned the counter tops than Shrewd went and made bread, flouring the counter top as she went, and then Mummy made dinner and the kitchen's most likely a complete mess again. You know, just once, just ONCE, I would like to clean the kitchen one day, come down the next morning, and see a clean kitchen. Just ONCE. Plus I can't clean the family room at all when Daddy's home because his butt's glued to that easy chair and he complains if I walk in front of the TV, and the Brother (who admittedly isn't home until tomorrow, but still) messes up the living room the second he comes home from school, by dumping his stuff in there, and Shrewd's using that for her computer anyway.

And I'm sure that Shrewd will read this and come tell me off for complaining that the house is messy when I'm kind of messy myself, but the truth is, I clean up my stuff within 24 hours or so provided it does not get buried under mountains of other crap. Like my laundry, which I dumped on the couch, folded, and set aside for to bring upstairs when I went. When I went to bring it upstairs, it had been sat on multiple times and buried under other, unfolded laundry. This sort of thing happens a lot and the truth is, it depresses me, and does not make me feel particularly inclined to keep my things neat.

You know what? I do have an opinion on something, and it's not an opinion that I borrowed from my mother or a friend or anything. It's something that's just uniquely me. I don't like to have to wash a pot in order to cook dinner; I'm of the opinion that the washing of dishes should occur AFTER the meal, not before. I don't like people to sit on my laundry or abandon their own laundry on the couch, unfolded, or take my stuff out of the dryer, not inform me of the action, and then proceed to let people sit on it and knock it on the floor for quite some time before I realize it's mine and practically have to wash it again. I'm sick of sticking my hands on counter tops and removing it to find jam or olive oil on it and I'm really sick of my feet sticking to the floors. I hate pulling my sister's hair from the drain before I shower, and then pulling my own out afterwards, and the fact that there are twenty well-formed red hairballs in the corner of the tub.

I'm not a neat freak, my room is terribly cluttered. Books, papers, stuffed animals and pillows are scattered on the floor. Clutter's fine, especially if it's clutter in one person's individual space. What I'm sick of is butter on my mail and peanut shells sticking to my feet as I walk. I get that they're busy, but I don't care, I should be able to read a magazine that doesn't have a polka-dotted oil stain on the cover!

And dear GOD I should be able to clean a kitchen and have it last as at least reasonably clean for longer than two hours.

I've been home for three weeks and I'm already sick of the place. It's going to be a long summer.

Friday, June 8, 2007

"We should fear the coming reign of the Idaho Global Domination."

Today is the Vestalia, a festival to honor Vesta/Hestia, goddess of the hearth. On this day the Vestal Virgins drew water from a sacred spring and made sure the water did not touch the ground, which would contaminate it; to do this, they had a special narrow-bottomed vessel. They would take salt specially made from brine brought in a salt pan and ground up, then baked in a jar and cut with an iron saw. Ears of grain gathered on the 7th, 9th, and 11th days of May were used for flour, and that, the salt, and the water were used to make the mola salsa, the holy cake, which was used in the celebrations.

Women would then make offerings to Vesta in her temple with simple food sacrifices, and would enter the temple barefoot. Men weren't allowed to enter Vesta's temple, save the Pontifex Maximus.

The day was also holy for bakers and millers, and they would adorn their millstones and the animals that turned them with garlands of violets and small loaves of bread.


I went to visit Ryter today. Since the bumper incident he needed to go get a rental car, so I took him over to the Enterprise place, where they gave him a shiny Nissan Altima, complete with optional stick shift and an ignition that only requires the key to be inside the car somewhere, it doesn't need it to be in the ignition itself.

The part I was jealous of was the CD player (my car doesn't have one), but his old car had that too.

It took him a while to get used to the Car of the Future, partially because it took a call to his dad yo figure out that the stick was optional, so at first we were wondering what kind of crazy rental place gives a person a standard without checking to make sure they could drive one first. But it worked out, and his rental is very nice, and I trust he'll fight the urge to wreck it just because it's a rental.

We tested it by going and getting the crickets to feed Ryter's bearded dragon, which he's getting Sunday. We also went to IHOP, since I asserted that I hadn't been there in forever, and I tried every kind of syrup, even Boysenberry. Mmm... syrup...

Nonaestima, who is Loquelo's housemate and a friend, came over and we went out for ice cream, then watched Futurama for a while. It was a fun day.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

"It's my way of thanking you for not reporting my countless violations of safety and minimum wage laws!"

Today I saw a broken window and a "No parking" blockade in front of it. I assumed, naturally, that the window was broken because someone attempted to park in it.


Besides doing a little job hunting, I didn't do anything interesting today, so instead here's a conversation:

Ryter: Circuit City is so sketchy.
Basiorana: It is?
Ryter: There's like dead sections.
Basiorana: That's weird. Like unused sections, or ones with corpses of problem employees?
Ryter: The latter would be awesome.
Ryter: "This was Todd. He didn't give 110%."
Basiorana: I would totally shop there. Imagine the service you'd get.
Ryter: It would be like if Klingons worked retail.
Ryter: "IF YOU SELL A PLASMA SCREEN, YOU GO TO STO-VO-KOR! And get commission. 12%."
Ryter: "STO-VO-KOR!"
Basiorana: Bwahahaha.
Basiorana: Except I can't imagine Klingons give good customer service.
Ryter: "I want to see the manager." "What seems to be the trouble?" "Kang over in computers bit me."
Basiorana: I love Klingons.
Ryter: I love Klingons, and I love Jesus. If only there were a way to combine the two...
Basiorana: Oh my god, I want to photoshop that.

Someday, I must photoshop a Klingon Jesus.

Klingons For Christ!

Wednesday, June 6, 2007


Today was really, really hard. First I didn't want to get out of bed, and I lay there for about an hour. Then I did get out of bed and every muscle in my body screeched in audible, PAINFUL protest. I dressed for the gym and lumbered downstairs, intending to watch a little ER then go to the gym, then job hunt.

Four hours later, I was still stuck on the couch, though I had at least gotten my laundry in and started icing my knee, which was the angriest body part.

I did finally get to the gym, at 3ish, and as I was making the rounds, it occurred to me that maybe the reason why I was so sore was because I hadn't skipped a session at the gym since the weekend, and over the weekend I walked a lot and lifted hand weights, so my muscles haven't really had a chance to heal at all.

I don't think I'll go to the gym tomorrow. However, I probably will have to either clean or mow the lawn again, so I'm not exactly getting a day off from exercise. I got like this last summer, too-- I become obsessed with working out every day, sometimes for longer than recommended. The thing is, I'd infinitely rather exercise than diet given a choice between the two. But that's not how it works, really, so instead I wind up exercising too much and eating crap, so I ultimately feel crappy.

But I didn't eat crap tonight, I cooked dinner, combining various weird cravings I was having in the grocery store to result in balsamic chicken in a greek salad, with balsamic vinegar and oil as dressing instead of greek dressing. And diet caffeine-free coke with lime slices in it, because they don't make caffeine-free coke with lime. I never understood that.


I don't know. I'm still sore, but thankfully the mental funk has cleared somewhat, so I'm doing a little better.

The problem is that for whatever reason, I can't say no when someone asks me to do something (unless it's unreasonable), and I can't voice an opinion without needing evidence to back it up, and I have no confidence in anything, really. My lack of confidence made me cry, because I couldn't even say something that I knew would be positively received, but was simply a little difficult to get out. I was petrified it would come out wrong, like those things always do for me.

"I and my decapitated popsicle will now retire upstairs, THANK YOU VERY MUCH"

So I have discovered that it's very hard to drive home when you're crying for the last 45 minutes of the hour-long trip.

And now, I'll make you wonder, and start at the beginning.

Let's see... My Day, by Basiorana. After a quick trip to the gym and a shower, I headed over to the school to meet with my old guidance counselor, who was thrilled to see me, showed me the image of me she stitched into her quilt (the little tiny pencil in my hair was priceless), then gave me information to pass along to Shrewd and the Brother about jobs while offering nothing for me.


Anyway, I proceeded to drive up to Dover for my therapy appointment, and after that, headed over to Ryter's. I was driving along a long, straight stretch of road at about 50, 55 mph in a 35 mph zone and I passed a cop. Thinking, Aww, damn..., I slowed and kept going, watching as he did a U-turn and followed me to the highway on-ramp, whereupon he turned on his lights and I immediately pulled over.

I got a warning. I mean, he put me into the system and nothing came up, I'm sure, so I got a verbal admonishment and was sent on my way. I've been driving kind of slow since then; I was always kind of proud of the fact that I'd never been stopped by a cop for anything and that's no longer the case, which I find mildly depressing, but I didn't get a ticket or even a written warning so that's good, at least. Ryter mentioned that he'd noticed the Durham police are able to devote much more time to catching speeders once school gets out, so I'll be especially careful this summer.

I met up with Ryter, anyway, and we went to go get stuff for his new lizard tank. He's getting a bearded dragon, got it approved by his landlady and everything. He's really excited, it's cute. He's going to name it Jesus (Hay-SOOS, not JEE-sus), for Jesus shall be his name (He said it, not me...). We got the tank and all, stashed it in the back of the car securely, and then went to get more climbing wood at another pet store, a few towns over. We had just passed the exit we would have taken to go back to his house when the skies opened up in terrible, torrential rain. Ryter decided we might as well keep going, and I didn't object.

We got to the parking lot, headed in, and a few seconds too late Ryter noticed that the lot was flooded. He realized this because his car was in a very, very deep puddle. Like, caulk the wagons and float across kind of puddle. After a few tries, the car moved and he parked. "On three, we run," he declared, and on three, I sprinted out of the car and over to the covered sidewalk, where a man was waiting to inform me that the front bumper of Ryter's car was currently floating in the waters of the Giant Puddle of Doom.

Much rain, bumper-fetching and bumper-cramming-into-the-back-seat later, the water-swept part was secured in the car, and we went to the pet store. Shoes squishing, I also stopped by Fashion Bug to grab a dry shirt for when we got back to his apartment. And, on the way back, it started to hail, too, so I was suddenly petrified I'd come back to see my car damaged or something. And, tornado watches, flashes of lightning, nonstop thunder... Yeah, not so fun.

Plus we got back to his apartment and the power went out, which displeased him greatly. But we set up both the terrarium and his bookcase, then went out and bought a chess game in a lull to occupy ourselves (he checkmated me in three moves, then in four moves-- I fail, but hey, I voted for Pretty Pretty Princess), but as soon as we got back, the power went back on.

None of this has anything to do with why I started to cry on the way back home, though. I'll go into it more when I'm not so tired, but suffice it to say that I'm very frustrated for my inability to ask for things I want. Need, yes, I'll ask for that. Want, not so much. It's driving me crazy.

Monday, June 4, 2007

Nothing induces a desire to diet like watching extreme weight loss shows.

I had a weird dream last night, in which I was slowly losing my vision. I thought, in the dream, that it was just a question of my sight getting blurry, but someone explained to me that I was also not seeing in as many wavelengths of light as was normal. This was then proved to me when I started to be unable to see objects and even people. At one point I took out my contact lenses and looked at them, only to learn they were broken in several places. I stumbled around without them for a while until I realized I was dreaming-- always a good sign-- and made a new pair appear in my pocket. I have no idea, by the way, why I didn't simply fix my eyes.


I went over to the high school today to try to find the job list. They didn't have anything I was interested in-- just yardwork and baby sitting. I figured I would also see my old guidance counselor while I was there, since she asked about me when she saw my mom and she stitched a picture of me into her quilt and all. But she wasn't there, either, so I'm going to see her at 10:15 tomorrow. And I'm going to the gym. And I have to leave town to head up to Dover by 11. I'd better head to bed soon...

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Look who's back

I got back from the Cape today. I have to say, I really feel different when I'm down there. Normally, I'm really self-conscious about my body, and would never dream of wearing, say, a tank top and a miniskirt. And yet my bathing suit covers about the same area (well, one of them, the others are essentially tank tops and panty bottoms) and when I'm at the Cape, in the park, I'll wear it around all day, even if I don't intend to swim. It's comfortable and I'd wear less clothing all the time if I had the confidence for it. Well, within reason, I'd still maintain a level of class. Hmm. Maybe I need to be living in a trailer to dress like trailer trash, I don't know, but I think it has more to do with the fact that a) no one cares, and there's no one I would consider my peer in the park-- most people are elderly or parents with young children, and b) I've always done it.

Anyway, I had a good weekend. I had a lobster dinner on Friday and a lobster roll on Saturday, both at Young's in Rock Harbor, best lobster rolls ever. I saw Pirates, the third one, and I honestly didn't think it was as bad as everyone said; then again, I'm used to complicated alliances and lots of characters and love scenes in the middle of battles. I mean, I read X-men.

This will be our last summer on the Cape, though, which is kinda sad but not unexpected. We don't go down there enough any more to make it worthwhile, and it's kinda expensive. I'll miss it, but what can you do. Besides, the place isn't even the same any more. There was a little cottage next to the park that was nice and small and humble, hidden partially behind sand dunes so the beach wouldn't wash away and take it with it. Now that little cottage has been turned into a two-story balconied monstrosity that destroys the view and the coastline.

There's a lot of little things like that. Dennisport's not the same. Although I hear the park itself is getting Wi-Fi, which would be pretty dang sweet.

Friday, June 1, 2007

I HATE it when the light is green and the person's still sitting there not doing anything....

It's the second day of the Ludi Tarentini. It's also a blue moon, so hopefully you all did something that you only do once in a blue moon. Shrewd said she loved me. I couldn't think of anything.


I just wanted to let people know that I'm not going to be online again until Sunday night. We're going to Cape Cod to set up the trailer for the summer, and there's no connection there. I only clarify this because I think there are people out there who would assume that my not posting an entry implies my death...


The bugs are out now, and they are driving me BONKERS. I need bug spray. Gah.

But it's late and I want to go to the gym tomorrow before we leave, so I'm signing off now...