Okay, sorry, I wanted to finish before but between being busy and various parties... oh well.
WEDNESDAY: The family Christmas party, with my grandfather, aunt, uncle, cousins, cousin's boyfriend and this year, my brother's girlfriend. It was good fun, as always; we had hot apple cider by the fire and we mingled for a while before opening presents and then playing a few games-- like "pass the package" where the person who answers a Christmas trivia question takes off one layer of wrapping paper from a gift, and the one that finds the final present gets to keep it (I lost).
Then there was the search for the pickle ornament, with a prize for the winner. My cousin won, after much frantic pawing through the tree.
And the Yankee Swap, where we passed around a box and each person took one wrapped gift, and either unwrapped it or exchanged it for an already unwrapped gift. The little bottles of alcohol were very popular, but alas, my mom's gotten increasingly bad at picking desirable non-alcoholic gifts as time goes on, and I wasn't allowed to trade for the alcohol, obviously. End result, I got tissues, which I afterwards gave to Shrewd, who had a cold. My older cousin got the risque tissues, which said "Jingle My Bells" with crotch shots of elves. My mom swears it was an accident...
Then we mostly sat around and talked again until they left and we started to clean up.
THURSDAY: I went to see Ryter, as I had promised to go down with him to help him unpack his mother's apartment (she apparently moved in three years ago and never unpacked). He's been avoiding seeing her one-on-one lately. So I drove all the way back to Durham, met up with Ryter, we got in the car and started to drive-- and got a phone call from her, saying she had forgotten she had an appointment that day and could we reschedule. Grrrr...
So we drove back, and before I could drive home or anything it started to snow. So I spent the night. Which was okay, but... bah. His mom can be vexing at times.
FRIDAY: I drove back early in the morning because my grandmother was coming up in the evening. My grandmother, while a very nice woman, has a tendency to pick fights without realizing she is doing so... especially with my sister. So I came home, slept on the couch for the weekend and tried not to get entangled in arguments. We also opened presents, and thus ended Christmas.
The weekend was mostly spent hiding in my room, but on Monday I drove to see Ryter for New Year's Eve. WE didn't do much on the Eve, just hung out and kept each other up until midnight, toasted, and went to bed. New Year's Day I was supposed to go down to Mass and see family for a big brunch, but the snow was too heavy, so instead we just got ready for his New Year's Party, which was tiki-themed and had a surprising number of the invites show up despite the weather. The only one who didn't was his former Japanese professor. That was fun.
I wound up spending the night again because it was so late when everyone left. Then today we cleaned up after the party before I headed back here.
On the plus side, I cleaned his shower during our preparations. I burned my lungs on the bleach, but the weird scunge is gone. That made me very happy.
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Part 2, Christmas Week
The Christmas tale continues. Here's the first installment.
TUESDAY: Christmas, of course! We woke up at 9 and moseyed downstairs once my mom had passed us. We don't do Santa much anymore, as the Brother is going to be eighteen in a few weeks. My mom does fill the stockings with little gifts, though, like wind-up toys and Christmas candy (Daddy fills her stocking with Lindt chocolates and scented soaps). Inexpensive fun things. This year was kind of lame because Daddy was down watching TV when we woke up, and then we sat around waiting while my mom put breakfast in the oven and they watched MORE TV- and not even something Christmasy, they were watching a robot movie. Grr. But they stopped when Mummy and I finished making breakfast and we opened the stocking gifts, all wrapped in tissue paper. Then, as breakfast cooked, we started the other family presents-- I gave my sister a scarf, my brother a book about numbers, my dad a bottle of special olive oil and my mom a little cosmetic bag for her purse (she needed one, her old one broke) and an organic candy bar.
My parents gave me lots of stuff-- this is what they do instead of buying me stuff I need or want at other times. So I got a Leatherman tool, and plush microbes from ThinkGeek (syphilis, malaria and mono), and Age of Mythology for my computer because I am a myth geek and have wanted it for years but couldn't afford it. And I finally got a new hair dryer to replace the one that broke. Shrewd's making me a scarf but she's been sick and couldn't finish it in time. I don't mind, though. The Brother gave Daddy a collection of Agatha Christie movies, including The Man in the Brown Suit, which is a movie that Daddy taped off the TV years ago, but which was then accidentally taped over by Shrewd. Daddy loved it and was disappointed as hell. He was thrilled, as was Shrewd, who is FINALLY out of the doghouse.
Soon breakfast was done. Christmas breakfast for us is almost as big as dinner. The traditional family Christmas breakfast is an egg casserole (part veggie and sausage, part sausage only, part veggie only), cinnamon rolls hot from the oven, homemade tea breads and fresh-squeezed orange juice. We finished presents after breakfast, then cleaned up the wrapping paper so that the house would be ready when Ryter arrived.
Ryter came soon after, and we talked and helped with dinner until it was time to eat. Dinner was tenderloin with peppercorn sauce and stuffed scrod with Newburg sauce; sweet potatoes, my mother's famous cloverleaf rolls, peas, broccoli, shrimp cocktail, sweet baby carrots and probably something else I forgot. It was wonderful, as my mom's cooking always is, even without the traditional popovers Shrewd usually makes (she was too sick to handle food safely).
Ryter opened my gift and I opened his; I gave him a T-shirt of Emperor Constantine Paleologos and he gave me a collection of Phillip K. Dick novels. My parents also gave him some maps of the White Mountains for hiking in the spring, and he gave Daddy a bottle of rum, for general over-21 consumption. The Brother and Daddy played with their new mini RC helicopters.
After we cleaned up from dinner we played Trivial Pursuit (Daddy and Mummy against the Brother, myself, and Ryter) and my team lost miserably. They got lots of easy questions. We had pie and cheesecake for desert and split up, Shrewd playing with her brand new laptop (boy did she need it), the Brother and Daddy playing Scrabble and Mummy setting up her new vacuum cleaner from my grandmother, while Ryter and I hung out, watched some Bones, and then said our good nights.
It was a marvelous Christmas all around.
TUESDAY: Christmas, of course! We woke up at 9 and moseyed downstairs once my mom had passed us. We don't do Santa much anymore, as the Brother is going to be eighteen in a few weeks. My mom does fill the stockings with little gifts, though, like wind-up toys and Christmas candy (Daddy fills her stocking with Lindt chocolates and scented soaps). Inexpensive fun things. This year was kind of lame because Daddy was down watching TV when we woke up, and then we sat around waiting while my mom put breakfast in the oven and they watched MORE TV- and not even something Christmasy, they were watching a robot movie. Grr. But they stopped when Mummy and I finished making breakfast and we opened the stocking gifts, all wrapped in tissue paper. Then, as breakfast cooked, we started the other family presents-- I gave my sister a scarf, my brother a book about numbers, my dad a bottle of special olive oil and my mom a little cosmetic bag for her purse (she needed one, her old one broke) and an organic candy bar. 
My parents gave me lots of stuff-- this is what they do instead of buying me stuff I need or want at other times. So I got a Leatherman tool, and plush microbes from ThinkGeek (syphilis, malaria and mono), and Age of Mythology for my computer because I am a myth geek and have wanted it for years but couldn't afford it. And I finally got a new hair dryer to replace the one that broke. Shrewd's making me a scarf but she's been sick and couldn't finish it in time. I don't mind, though. The Brother gave Daddy a collection of Agatha Christie movies, including The Man in the Brown Suit, which is a movie that Daddy taped off the TV years ago, but which was then accidentally taped over by Shrewd. Daddy loved it and was disappointed as hell. He was thrilled, as was Shrewd, who is FINALLY out of the doghouse.Soon breakfast was done. Christmas breakfast for us is almost as big as dinner. The traditional family Christmas breakfast is an egg casserole (part veggie and sausage, part sausage only, part veggie only), cinnamon rolls hot from the oven, homemade tea breads and fresh-squeezed orange juice. We finished presents after breakfast, then cleaned up the wrapping paper so that the house would be ready when Ryter arrived.
Ryter came soon after, and we talked and helped with dinner until it was time to eat. Dinner was tenderloin with peppercorn sauce and stuffed scrod with Newburg sauce; sweet potatoes, my mother's famous cloverleaf rolls, peas, broccoli, shrimp cocktail, sweet baby carrots and probably something else I forgot. It was wonderful, as my mom's cooking always is, even without the traditional popovers Shrewd usually makes (she was too sick to handle food safely). Ryter opened my gift and I opened his; I gave him a T-shirt of Emperor Constantine Paleologos and he gave me a collection of Phillip K. Dick novels. My parents also gave him some maps of the White Mountains for hiking in the spring, and he gave Daddy a bottle of rum, for general over-21 consumption. The Brother and Daddy played with their new mini RC helicopters.
After we cleaned up from dinner we played Trivial Pursuit (Daddy and Mummy against the Brother, myself, and Ryter) and my team lost miserably. They got lots of easy questions. We had pie and cheesecake for desert and split up, Shrewd playing with her brand new laptop (boy did she need it), the Brother and Daddy playing Scrabble and Mummy setting up her new vacuum cleaner from my grandmother, while Ryter and I hung out, watched some Bones, and then said our good nights.
It was a marvelous Christmas all around.
Part 1, Christmas Week
So there is a good reason why I didn't write a blog entry the past couple days. My dad "fixed" the wireless connection, so it went from working fine to not working at all for a few days.
So Christmas has come and gone. Well, almost. Christmas is being spread out over six days for me this year. This will take a couple posts.
SUNDAY: Ryter's family party. It was cool. We went down to his grandmother's house and exchanged gifts and sat around and talked. I met his favorite cousin, who is very cool, and stood around feeling awkward most of the time. By the end I was exhausted and ready to go well before Ryter was, but I waited until he was ready to go anyway, because he doesn't get to see his cousin very much.
I also almost got into a politics fight at dinner before I remembered The Rules of Discussion at Social Events: No politics, no sex, no religion. Oops. But I backed out. It's just hard not to get riled when someone's talking about Huckabee taking over the US government. I'm pretty sure I would arrange to do med school in Canada, if degree transfers would work.
MONDAY: Christmas Eve. We cleaned the house and cooked what we could of Christmas dinner, then got a massive quantity of Chinese food, as is tradition. See, my great-uncle was an insurance salesman, and he believed that a good salesman buys from his customers. So on Christmas Eve he would visit every Chinese restaurant he insured and buy food from each. Thus, mountains of food. My dad's carrying on the tradition, with only one restaurant as the others in this town suck.
To be continued...
So Christmas has come and gone. Well, almost. Christmas is being spread out over six days for me this year. This will take a couple posts.
SUNDAY: Ryter's family party. It was cool. We went down to his grandmother's house and exchanged gifts and sat around and talked. I met his favorite cousin, who is very cool, and stood around feeling awkward most of the time. By the end I was exhausted and ready to go well before Ryter was, but I waited until he was ready to go anyway, because he doesn't get to see his cousin very much.I also almost got into a politics fight at dinner before I remembered The Rules of Discussion at Social Events: No politics, no sex, no religion. Oops. But I backed out. It's just hard not to get riled when someone's talking about Huckabee taking over the US government. I'm pretty sure I would arrange to do med school in Canada, if degree transfers would work.
MONDAY: Christmas Eve. We cleaned the house and cooked what we could of Christmas dinner, then got a massive quantity of Chinese food, as is tradition. See, my great-uncle was an insurance salesman, and he believed that a good salesman buys from his customers. So on Christmas Eve he would visit every Chinese restaurant he insured and buy food from each. Thus, mountains of food. My dad's carrying on the tradition, with only one restaurant as the others in this town suck.
To be continued...
Sunday, December 23, 2007
I return.
*Enormous sigh*
Well, it's over. I had my last exam yesterday and I am now at home, helping my mother clean the house. Supposedly it was to be a family affair but Shrewd spent the morning knitting and watching TV with Daddy while the Brother helped by cleaning up his own Legos and robot stuff, which was everywhere. Daddy started the kitchen, went and sat back down to watch TV, Mummy went out and I cleaned a good portion of the downstairs all by myself before Daddy and Shrewd wandered in and asked what they should do... bah.
So yeah, "Welcome home! Now clean the house." And it was pretty bad, too. Mummy and the Brother have been busy and Daddy won't clean unless we make him; Shrewd just recently got home as well. We're talking like mail stacked in every corner of the kitchen and all on the dining room table, robot stuff everywhere, school projects and college applications scattered about... Not to mention the piles of laundry, mostly Shrewd's and dish towels but my small basket as well. It wasn't like, pick up a few things and vacuum.
Plus when I got back my mother had not yet assembled the Christmas village. When I asked why not she said "Well, I had to paint the living room the first two weekends and then it didn't seem worth it for only a few weeks, and your dad didn't want it there because he's been talking about getting a flat screen TV..."
My dad already spends pretty much every hour of the evening parked in front of the TV doing nothing. He only reads if there's nothing on. Now he wants a flat screen despite the fact he has a perfectly good, LARGE TV he only got a few years ago? Bah.
Anyway, she agreed to put it up with my help, so after the house was cleaned we assembled the village. Then after dinner we watched The Nun's Story and then I went and wrapped presents for my dad, who claims he is incapable of doing so properly.
Tomorrow I go to Ryter's family Christmas party; I'll also hopefully get a chance to talk about the Hanukkah festivities as well...
Well, it's over. I had my last exam yesterday and I am now at home, helping my mother clean the house. Supposedly it was to be a family affair but Shrewd spent the morning knitting and watching TV with Daddy while the Brother helped by cleaning up his own Legos and robot stuff, which was everywhere. Daddy started the kitchen, went and sat back down to watch TV, Mummy went out and I cleaned a good portion of the downstairs all by myself before Daddy and Shrewd wandered in and asked what they should do... bah.
So yeah, "Welcome home! Now clean the house." And it was pretty bad, too. Mummy and the Brother have been busy and Daddy won't clean unless we make him; Shrewd just recently got home as well. We're talking like mail stacked in every corner of the kitchen and all on the dining room table, robot stuff everywhere, school projects and college applications scattered about... Not to mention the piles of laundry, mostly Shrewd's and dish towels but my small basket as well. It wasn't like, pick up a few things and vacuum.
Plus when I got back my mother had not yet assembled the Christmas village. When I asked why not she said "Well, I had to paint the living room the first two weekends and then it didn't seem worth it for only a few weeks, and your dad didn't want it there because he's been talking about getting a flat screen TV..."
My dad already spends pretty much every hour of the evening parked in front of the TV doing nothing. He only reads if there's nothing on. Now he wants a flat screen despite the fact he has a perfectly good, LARGE TV he only got a few years ago? Bah.
Anyway, she agreed to put it up with my help, so after the house was cleaned we assembled the village. Then after dinner we watched The Nun's Story and then I went and wrapped presents for my dad, who claims he is incapable of doing so properly.
Tomorrow I go to Ryter's family Christmas party; I'll also hopefully get a chance to talk about the Hanukkah festivities as well...
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I did get to see Loquatia again, at dinner, so today wasn't all that bad.
I've been trying to regulate my caloric intake (the dining halls post nutrition facts this year). While good for teaching me to add large numbers in my head quickly, it is posing many challenges. Yesterday the challenge was my Latin teacher bringing in homemade baklava. Today it was the fact that it was a festival day and the special foods don't list nutrition facts. And then there was the caramel apple pie.I suck at this. But I did at least manage only about 2400 calories yesterday, which considering that I estimate I burn 2800 (lots of walking around) is kind of good. My goal is 2000 a day.
So yesterday I had recitation for Biostats. Determined not to be as confused as last time, I took copious detailed notes on my laptop, step-by-step instructions and a guide in Excel itself. At the end of the class, she handed back quizzes (I got a 59 on mine. Yikes) and I rushed to pack up and get mine before the crush of half the class (of 125) got theirs. I then went to Hoco and to Ryter's for the evening, watched the first season of Heroes and speculated wildly as to the nature of the next season (but it looks like there will be superhero-teen lovin', so it's gotta be fun).Then I got home, opened my computer, received a "YOU HAVE FLAWS ON YOUR DISK" message, clicked "fix" and came back in five minutes...
It rebooted my computer. Completely. What's more, in my rush I neglected to actually save my notes, figuring they would be there when I next opened the laptop. I lost everything.
So I grabbed some stuff off the website and frantically IMed Maritima, who is also in Biostats, and asked her for help. She's basically walked me through half this stuff. My lack of notes made this assignment take me a total of five hours, four of which were spent on one problem which I couldn't figure out at all.
But thanks to Maritima and my willingness to accept defeat on one problem, it was finished in the end. Thank god.
The thing is, I like statistics in itself; I don't like the fact that my TA has a new baby so she doesn't give a shit about teaching us, or grading us. My last assignment? She didn't grade the graph because I put it on a separate page. I mean, come on. Take off a point if it bugs you. But don't just not grade it. She claimed that she couldn't find things so if she had to hunt for it she gave it a 0, but honestly, how hard is it to get to that question where the graph should be and read "See page 3," and turn to page 3, where the graph is?And that's not all she did that on-- I got a sixty, seventy with scaling, and I bet if she had spent more than a minute on each paper I could have gotten at least ten points higher. And she didn't bother to tell me what I did wrong, either. I guess I have to guess.
She says repeatedly that she hates statistics, hates grading, won't come in except for her very limited office hours, and is only doing this for the money because of the baby and because she's a graduate student. Okay. I get that she needs money, but really. This is all my stats professor could find???
Bah...
Meanwhile I am debating how to ask my dad for a small allowance so I can do fun things on the weekends sometimes, or go out to eat once in a while. I mean, he knows I can't work with school stuff, and I do like to do things for fun besides surf Fark, read blogs and pester Ryter. I think I'll ask for $15 a week but hope for $10 and settle for $5 if I must. $5 would mean I get to eat out once a month and go on an (inexpensive) trip once a month. $10 would mean the same but eating out twice a month, or saving it; $15 would mean I could actually save up some money for the holidays. My biggest concern is that the geniuses at UNH decided this year that finals end the week before Christmas. My last one is the 21st. Sure, vacation lasts until the 21st of January but guess what? Stores don't need help in January. They need help in December. If I go to a store and say I can start work on the 26th they'll say, "Sorry, no can do." Last year TJ Maxx really didn't need me after the ninth.
So that means I won't make any money at all over the winter break, and I don't really know what to do. I need a source of income, but I don't have the time to work during the year... The only thing I can think of is baby-sitting, but I hate, hate, hate advertising myself as a baby-sitter, and I don't really know any families in the area. Financially, I am screwed unless Daddy gives me an allowance.He probably will understand. So what is my concern? I bet he ties it to my grades, as in, "Get a B or higher or the money goes away." And seeing as I am in Organic and Biostats, that means that it may very well go away and I'm screwed again.
Maybe if I suggest that I may need to take a year off and work otherwise... The only thing worse for Daddy than failing grades would be skipping a year. Something about "never going back."
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Happy Holidays
Sorry I've been MIA for so long- a whole week is a long time for me to forget to post. But see, I've been very busy, between work and holiday stuff...
Thus far, I've done cashiering and fitting room attending and now there's markdowns, which we have to finish up before the ninth because that's when the store does inventory. Pretty straightforward. I have had a bit of an issue with requesting time off... See, I needed to have tomorrow, New Year's Day, off for a big family party we go to every year. I also needed last night off to go see a concert which I will tell you about later. So on Thursday I reminded my manager of this, and she said, "Oh, why didn't you request time off?"
"I did," I replied. "I mentioned it to [the other manager] when I was hired and he asked me if there were any times I wouldn't be able to work."
"But you didn't get anything in writing?"
"I was supposed to get it in writing?"
Yes, I was. See, they had neglected to tell me that there are special forms to fill out when you want to have certain days off. And it was too late to fill out the forms for tomorrow. Argh... So I basically have to try to get someone to fill in for me but if no one can, my manager did say it'd probably be okay if I didn't come in.
I keep having issues with this stuff, because it's all so different from my last job. See, the daycare I used to work at kept the same schedule every week, and I could not miss work unless I gave them two week's notice or I was infectiously ill, because missing work caused serious ratio issues and there wasn't enough supervision for the kids. Plus, scheduling was all oral. That's because it was small and non-profit, but I can't get used to a normal system.
Oh well. They haven't fired me yet, and everyone says I'm a good worker. AS long as I don't come in plastered some day I should be fine.
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So, cool holiday stuff I've done:
THE CHRISTMAS REVELS
On the 23rd, I went to the Revels with my great-aunt. This particular great-aunt is not your classic stodgy type, but is one of my strongest role models. She's eccentric and kooky and has her doctorate in Italian Studies despite getting it at a time when such things simply weren't done by women, and she's generally great fun. She was a professor of Italian for years, and she's just finished writing a translation of Italian poetry and she's getting it published.
She was kind of the black sheep of her family. The youngest of four sisters, she lived in Italy for a good chunk of her adult life and never married. Radical feminist, rabid liberal, all that fun stuff. But she mellowed a lot after her stroke and with age. Anyway, she lives in Arlington with her (male) life partner/significant other to whom she is not married, and every year she takes one of us grand-nieces or nephew to see the Christmas Revels in Sanders Theatre in Cambridge.
The Revels are a musical play/performance put on all through December every year. They change the theme each season and this year, the theme was Germanic Christmases, so they talked about St. Nicholas and his legends and Knecht Ruprecht, his companion. St. Nicholas narrated the performance, and there were traditional songs and dances, including several where the audience sings along, and then the one song and dance right before intermission where the whole audience gets up and goes out into the entrance hall and dances together and sings. It was a lot of fun.
At one point St. Nicholas called up to the stage four audience members and sat them down and asked them if they were naughty or nice, and then insisted that they tell him one thing that they had done that was naughty over the past year. The first two answered with the tamest sins they could imagine- "I eat too many sweets" and "Sometimes I don't do my chores." The next was a little girl, and St. Nicholas coaxed her, saying, "Now remember, what happens in Sanders Theatre, stays in Sanders Theatre" and then looked out over the 200 or so faces in the audience. She said she couldn't think of anything she'd done naughty, and then the last person, a middle-aged man, confessed a real sin, as if Nicholas was real, and we all cracked up and it became a running joke for the rest of the show.
If there's a Revels in your area or you live near Boston, you should go some year. It's funny, the music is beautiful, and the dancing is really neat. The atmosphere in general is wonderful and there's a real sense of community there. It's terrific.
I spent the night at my aunt's house and returned home for work the next day, missing a chance for a lobster dinner with my aunt's significant other's son. This made me sad, but oh well. Not like there's not enough good food around the holidays.
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CHRISTMAS EVE
I didn't think I was supposed to work on Christmas Eve, because I didn't understand that schedules at normal places change every week. So I was two hours late, after getting a call from my boss. I felt really bad about it but there wasn't much I could do, it was an honest, if silly, mistake. But it wasn't that busy anyway, just some frantic husbands looking for jewelry or scarves, and we got out early- at 6 pm- which meant that I was able to go home for some Christmas Eve traditions.
I baked sugar cookies, much to my diabetic father's chagrin, and put some out for Santa. You can tell my parents are sort of abandoning the traditional pretense of Santa because they didn't even bother to bite the cookies like usual. Oh well. Daddy says that we'll get presents as long as we can be considered "schoolchildren," which is partially to set a limit on Santa gifts and partially to tempt Shrewd into going to graduate school. I asked if that means I'm going to get gifts from Santa until I graduate med school at age 26, or until I complete my residency at age 30, but Daddy just made a face at me.
Then we ordered Chinese food. This is a very important Christmas Eve tradition. Mummy cooks all Christmas Eve Day for Christmas, and doesn't want to cook for Christmas Eve, so we need to order takeout- but the Chinese part is a tradition. Years ago my paternal grandmother's brother, my great-uncle, decided to order takeout from one of his customers on Christmas Eve to support the man, and the man happened to own a Chinese restaurant. So my great-uncle walks through the door with "dinner-" more than enough food to feed an army. Christmas Eve, we order enough Chinese food for twenty people- we know that's what the restaurant expects because that's how many fortune cookies we get- and divide it among six eaters (my paternal grandfather spends Christmas with us). That's why I'm not allowed to eat Chinese food all through December- to prepare.
That's Christmas Eve around here- hang the stockings, put out cookies, stuff ourselves with Lo Mein and go to sleep. Great fun.
I had to sleep on Shrewd's floor, though, because I was put on the sofa bed downstairs to allow my grandfather a little more privacy and mattress quality and it kinda ruins the pretense of Santa if you see your parents creep by your bed to stuff your stockings. Shrewd's floor is dirty, crowded, and smells like eel, which is what she was carving up at work that day. She reports that she does not like to skin eels.
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CHRISTMAS DAY
Shrewd and I woke up at 7:00, then waited until 8:30 when Grandpa woke up before we alerted The Brother and then went to go jump on Mummy and Daddy's bed. This, by the way, was a lot better for the furniture when we were 6, 9, and 11 instead of 16, 19, and 21. There was much pretense of being incredibly excited to see what Santa brought, more for the tradition than anything. Once Grandpa and the parents had gone downstairs, gotten some coffee, and established themselves in the family room, we were released, but the usual barreling down the stairs has become much more sedated with our advancing years.
Every year, we each get one big present from Santa, which almost never actually fits in the stocking, and then a bunch of candy and fun little things in the stocking. My big present was somewhat exciting- a digital camera. Awesome. Now I can put pictures up that I actually took, instead of stealing them from online. Then we each opened one non-Santa gift, including the adults that have been adults long enough to not be considered "the children."
We ate our traditional Christmas Breakfast of fresh-squeezed orange juice, egg casserole (half with no sausage, half with no veggies, and another pan with both- my poor mother), sweet rolls and pumpkin bread, and special sugar-free apricot bread for my dad. That last one is a new addition. Oh, and there was chocolate for breakfast, but that's pretty much par for the course around here.
After that, we opened gifts until my great aunt, and her significant other (honestly, "boyfriend" is inadequate but they aren't married, what should I call him?) arrived for Christmas dinner. My mom prepared two main dishes, one the traditional roast for Christmas and the other essentially just for me, because she can't seem to understand that I can eat side dishes. But the turkey was very good.
We finished opening presents after dinner, with our guests, and then we had pies made by my grandfather and played Trivial Pursuit until my great-aunt had to leave. It was a lot of fun. There were several cool gifts, like my mom's new Roomba, which we spent a ridiculously long amount of time watching as it cleaned the room. That thing's pretty sweet. Also cool was my new brown sweater, which my mother gave me, and which she herself admits makes me look sexy. Mothers are not supposed to say these things, it's weird. But I do love the sweater.
I also got these really neat disease plushies, E. Coli, the Common Cold and Strep Throat, which Shrewd is very jealous of, and a lovely new jewelry box that has almost enough space for my earrings. I have a lot of earrings.
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BLUE MAN GROUP
Yes, we went to see Blue Man Group perform last night. It was... AWESOME. Everyone needs to see Blue Man Group once in their life. There was drumming on water and toilet paper and strobe lights and honestly, I can't describe it except to say it was funny and cool and... an experience. That's a good term, an experience.
Afterwards we all went to Finale, a very expensive but wonderful dessert shop. We ordered a couple desserts and split them. I had been there once before, with the Girl Scouts, so it was my idea. Finale is the kind of place you can financially go to only every once in a while, with intervals depending on your income, but probably not more than once a year. Health-wise, I'd recommend at least five years between visits. "Sugar-free" is like a curse-word there.
This kinda sucked for my diabetic father, but I think everyone liked the desserts. but my brother's poor girlfriend seemed a little startled that they were to be shared. I hope we didn't scare her off too bad.
Also with us was my maternal grandmother, who came up only two days after my grandfather left, so I had my own bed for a grand total of two nights. But I'm all set up to sleep in the basement now, since I decided I couldn't handle the total lack of privacy that comes from sleeping in the living room. I have an air mattress and a whole mess of blankets, because the basement is freezing.
Anyway, Grammy came with us to the concert and then afterwards we opened her presents to us, which didn't take very long. She gave each of us kids an iPod Nano, which is pretty cool. Shrewd might exchange hers for a Creative player, but she's not sure yet. So between the digital camera and the iPod I've gotten both of the big gifts that I wanted. Very cool.
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So those are my holidays. I wanted to have a friends party but I never found the time, though I might do one in January before school starts up again. I may or may not be returning to regular posts, but I definitely will start up with normal posting when I return to school on the 16th.
Thus far, I've done cashiering and fitting room attending and now there's markdowns, which we have to finish up before the ninth because that's when the store does inventory. Pretty straightforward. I have had a bit of an issue with requesting time off... See, I needed to have tomorrow, New Year's Day, off for a big family party we go to every year. I also needed last night off to go see a concert which I will tell you about later. So on Thursday I reminded my manager of this, and she said, "Oh, why didn't you request time off?"
"I did," I replied. "I mentioned it to [the other manager] when I was hired and he asked me if there were any times I wouldn't be able to work."
"But you didn't get anything in writing?"
"I was supposed to get it in writing?"
Yes, I was. See, they had neglected to tell me that there are special forms to fill out when you want to have certain days off. And it was too late to fill out the forms for tomorrow. Argh... So I basically have to try to get someone to fill in for me but if no one can, my manager did say it'd probably be okay if I didn't come in.
I keep having issues with this stuff, because it's all so different from my last job. See, the daycare I used to work at kept the same schedule every week, and I could not miss work unless I gave them two week's notice or I was infectiously ill, because missing work caused serious ratio issues and there wasn't enough supervision for the kids. Plus, scheduling was all oral. That's because it was small and non-profit, but I can't get used to a normal system.
Oh well. They haven't fired me yet, and everyone says I'm a good worker. AS long as I don't come in plastered some day I should be fine.
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So, cool holiday stuff I've done:
THE CHRISTMAS REVELS
On the 23rd, I went to the Revels with my great-aunt. This particular great-aunt is not your classic stodgy type, but is one of my strongest role models. She's eccentric and kooky and has her doctorate in Italian Studies despite getting it at a time when such things simply weren't done by women, and she's generally great fun. She was a professor of Italian for years, and she's just finished writing a translation of Italian poetry and she's getting it published.
She was kind of the black sheep of her family. The youngest of four sisters, she lived in Italy for a good chunk of her adult life and never married. Radical feminist, rabid liberal, all that fun stuff. But she mellowed a lot after her stroke and with age. Anyway, she lives in Arlington with her (male) life partner/significant other to whom she is not married, and every year she takes one of us grand-nieces or nephew to see the Christmas Revels in Sanders Theatre in Cambridge.
The Revels are a musical play/performance put on all through December every year. They change the theme each season and this year, the theme was Germanic Christmases, so they talked about St. Nicholas and his legends and Knecht Ruprecht, his companion. St. Nicholas narrated the performance, and there were traditional songs and dances, including several where the audience sings along, and then the one song and dance right before intermission where the whole audience gets up and goes out into the entrance hall and dances together and sings. It was a lot of fun.
At one point St. Nicholas called up to the stage four audience members and sat them down and asked them if they were naughty or nice, and then insisted that they tell him one thing that they had done that was naughty over the past year. The first two answered with the tamest sins they could imagine- "I eat too many sweets" and "Sometimes I don't do my chores." The next was a little girl, and St. Nicholas coaxed her, saying, "Now remember, what happens in Sanders Theatre, stays in Sanders Theatre" and then looked out over the 200 or so faces in the audience. She said she couldn't think of anything she'd done naughty, and then the last person, a middle-aged man, confessed a real sin, as if Nicholas was real, and we all cracked up and it became a running joke for the rest of the show.If there's a Revels in your area or you live near Boston, you should go some year. It's funny, the music is beautiful, and the dancing is really neat. The atmosphere in general is wonderful and there's a real sense of community there. It's terrific.
I spent the night at my aunt's house and returned home for work the next day, missing a chance for a lobster dinner with my aunt's significant other's son. This made me sad, but oh well. Not like there's not enough good food around the holidays.
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CHRISTMAS EVE
I didn't think I was supposed to work on Christmas Eve, because I didn't understand that schedules at normal places change every week. So I was two hours late, after getting a call from my boss. I felt really bad about it but there wasn't much I could do, it was an honest, if silly, mistake. But it wasn't that busy anyway, just some frantic husbands looking for jewelry or scarves, and we got out early- at 6 pm- which meant that I was able to go home for some Christmas Eve traditions.
I baked sugar cookies, much to my diabetic father's chagrin, and put some out for Santa. You can tell my parents are sort of abandoning the traditional pretense of Santa because they didn't even bother to bite the cookies like usual. Oh well. Daddy says that we'll get presents as long as we can be considered "schoolchildren," which is partially to set a limit on Santa gifts and partially to tempt Shrewd into going to graduate school. I asked if that means I'm going to get gifts from Santa until I graduate med school at age 26, or until I complete my residency at age 30, but Daddy just made a face at me.
Then we ordered Chinese food. This is a very important Christmas Eve tradition. Mummy cooks all Christmas Eve Day for Christmas, and doesn't want to cook for Christmas Eve, so we need to order takeout- but the Chinese part is a tradition. Years ago my paternal grandmother's brother, my great-uncle, decided to order takeout from one of his customers on Christmas Eve to support the man, and the man happened to own a Chinese restaurant. So my great-uncle walks through the door with "dinner-" more than enough food to feed an army. Christmas Eve, we order enough Chinese food for twenty people- we know that's what the restaurant expects because that's how many fortune cookies we get- and divide it among six eaters (my paternal grandfather spends Christmas with us). That's why I'm not allowed to eat Chinese food all through December- to prepare.That's Christmas Eve around here- hang the stockings, put out cookies, stuff ourselves with Lo Mein and go to sleep. Great fun.
I had to sleep on Shrewd's floor, though, because I was put on the sofa bed downstairs to allow my grandfather a little more privacy and mattress quality and it kinda ruins the pretense of Santa if you see your parents creep by your bed to stuff your stockings. Shrewd's floor is dirty, crowded, and smells like eel, which is what she was carving up at work that day. She reports that she does not like to skin eels.
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CHRISTMAS DAY
Shrewd and I woke up at 7:00, then waited until 8:30 when Grandpa woke up before we alerted The Brother and then went to go jump on Mummy and Daddy's bed. This, by the way, was a lot better for the furniture when we were 6, 9, and 11 instead of 16, 19, and 21. There was much pretense of being incredibly excited to see what Santa brought, more for the tradition than anything. Once Grandpa and the parents had gone downstairs, gotten some coffee, and established themselves in the family room, we were released, but the usual barreling down the stairs has become much more sedated with our advancing years.
Every year, we each get one big present from Santa, which almost never actually fits in the stocking, and then a bunch of candy and fun little things in the stocking. My big present was somewhat exciting- a digital camera. Awesome. Now I can put pictures up that I actually took, instead of stealing them from online. Then we each opened one non-Santa gift, including the adults that have been adults long enough to not be considered "the children."We ate our traditional Christmas Breakfast of fresh-squeezed orange juice, egg casserole (half with no sausage, half with no veggies, and another pan with both- my poor mother), sweet rolls and pumpkin bread, and special sugar-free apricot bread for my dad. That last one is a new addition. Oh, and there was chocolate for breakfast, but that's pretty much par for the course around here.
After that, we opened gifts until my great aunt, and her significant other (honestly, "boyfriend" is inadequate but they aren't married, what should I call him?) arrived for Christmas dinner. My mom prepared two main dishes, one the traditional roast for Christmas and the other essentially just for me, because she can't seem to understand that I can eat side dishes. But the turkey was very good.
We finished opening presents after dinner, with our guests, and then we had pies made by my grandfather and played Trivial Pursuit until my great-aunt had to leave. It was a lot of fun. There were several cool gifts, like my mom's new Roomba, which we spent a ridiculously long amount of time watching as it cleaned the room. That thing's pretty sweet. Also cool was my new brown sweater, which my mother gave me, and which she herself admits makes me look sexy. Mothers are not supposed to say these things, it's weird. But I do love the sweater.
I also got these really neat disease plushies, E. Coli, the Common Cold and Strep Throat, which Shrewd is very jealous of, and a lovely new jewelry box that has almost enough space for my earrings. I have a lot of earrings.------
BLUE MAN GROUPYes, we went to see Blue Man Group perform last night. It was... AWESOME. Everyone needs to see Blue Man Group once in their life. There was drumming on water and toilet paper and strobe lights and honestly, I can't describe it except to say it was funny and cool and... an experience. That's a good term, an experience.
Afterwards we all went to Finale, a very expensive but wonderful dessert shop. We ordered a couple desserts and split them. I had been there once before, with the Girl Scouts, so it was my idea. Finale is the kind of place you can financially go to only every once in a while, with intervals depending on your income, but probably not more than once a year. Health-wise, I'd recommend at least five years between visits. "Sugar-free" is like a curse-word there.This kinda sucked for my diabetic father, but I think everyone liked the desserts. but my brother's poor girlfriend seemed a little startled that they were to be shared. I hope we didn't scare her off too bad.
Also with us was my maternal grandmother, who came up only two days after my grandfather left, so I had my own bed for a grand total of two nights. But I'm all set up to sleep in the basement now, since I decided I couldn't handle the total lack of privacy that comes from sleeping in the living room. I have an air mattress and a whole mess of blankets, because the basement is freezing.
Anyway, Grammy came with us to the concert and then afterwards we opened her presents to us, which didn't take very long. She gave each of us kids an iPod Nano, which is pretty cool. Shrewd might exchange hers for a Creative player, but she's not sure yet. So between the digital camera and the iPod I've gotten both of the big gifts that I wanted. Very cool.
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So those are my holidays. I wanted to have a friends party but I never found the time, though I might do one in January before school starts up again. I may or may not be returning to regular posts, but I definitely will start up with normal posting when I return to school on the 16th.
Friday, December 22, 2006
A Crisis of Whatever
Oh, hey, it's Saturnalia! I haven't been checking my Roman calendar much lately, so I didn't mention it earlier, but Saturnalia started on the 17th. Saturnalia was a festival honoring the god Saturn/Cronus, the father of the great Olympians.
The festival lasted from the 17th to the 23rd, and consisted of some public religious rites, but also a school holiday, the making and giving of small presents, and a special market. They legalized gambling for the week, even for slaves, but that wasn't saying much since gambling wasn't exactly rare the rest of the year. There was much feasting and merriment.
They also basically excused slaves from punishment and let them treat their masters with disrespect, and the masters either served their slaves a banquet, ate with them, or allowed them to have one before the masters' own. Everyone wore casual clothes, not togas, so it further blurred the master/slave boundary. One person was elected master of ceremonies and directed the partying in his circle.
Saturnalia is a source of many Christmas traditions common in the middle ages- masters and servants switching places for the day, a master of ceremonies, that sort of thing. This major holiday was probably why it was decided that Jesus was born in late December, despite there being pretty much no evidence of any time of his birth- I mean, at his birth, even if you believe in him, he wasn't known to be a prophet of messiah or whatever you think he is. So they didn't really record anything. But the early Christian leaders weren't stupid, they knew that the best way to get people to stop celebrating the pagan holidays was to replace them with events that happened at the same time and were kinda similar in nature. Luckily, there were a lot of holidays that fell at around the same time, in different non-Christian religions, so lots of birds with one stone.
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Speaking of Christianity, interesting thing happened today. I was working at the register and a customer noticed my necklace- my prayer box necklace that my little cousin gave to me- and started asking me about it. "What's in your little box?" she asked. "My daughter has one like it."
"Oh, it's a prayer box," I explained. "You write your prayers on little slips of paper and put them inside."
"Ah, yes, that's what my daughter's is too- but hers is a little different. where did you get it?"
"My little cousin gave it to me for Christmas one year," I answered, omitting the fact that said little cousin is almost a teenager at this point.
"Oh... Are you Catholic? Do you know if those are mostly a Catholic thing? I heard they might be."
Uhm... okay. Here's the thing. First of all, I'm not positive what religion my aunt, uncle, and cousins are, just that it's Protestant and I don't think it's Baptist. I want to say Methodist, but that's irrelevant. The thing is, my cousin is really active in her church and sings in the choir and all- and I know that whole family looks down on ours. I mean, my aunt was a born-again Christian, and my mother- her sister- is an atheist. Meanwhile Shrewd knows more about what she doesn't beleive in than what she does (though I don't think she considers herself atheist anymore) and I'm... well, I'm complicated. Now, I don't think that my cousin understands that I'm not Christian, because I doubt that's the sort of thing my aunt and uncle would talk to her about. She at least should know that I'm not as religious as her family is. But I still kinda felt like giving someone a prayer box is essentially saying, You should put your faith in my God and my religion, and be more religious, like me. It's a bit like giving a cross pendant. A lovely gift, if you know for sure that the person is a Christian and will appreciate wearing their religion around their neck.
But I beat the system. I wear the box and I even put prayers inside of it, though they aren't serious prayers for the health and happiness of my family- those I say myself, since anything important ought to be said in person, and not written down. Right now my box contains prayers for success in school and for a Prince Charming to come along. Things that I could accomplish on my own with minimal divine intervention if I had the nerve and made enough effort. Still, they're prayers. They're just to a radically different god than the one the box was originally made for.
Anyway, back to today, and the conversation. It kinda went downhill from there. I told the woman, "Oh, my cousin is Protestant. It's not just a Catholic thing," thinking, It's not just a Christian thing, and she said, "Oh, good... Are you religious yourself?"
Uhm, lady? I don't even know you, I'm the girl who's ringing up your wrapping paper at 25% off. Why are you getting into a theological discussion?
"Oh, no, not really... My dad's Congregationalist, but we never really go to church," I answered, deciding that I would not explain the complexities of religion in my family to a total stranger, nor would I let her know that I was not only not Catholic, but not Christian at all, since she seemed the sort to smile sympathetically, offer some story about how Jesus saved her, and inform me of services at her church of choice with an excellent pastor who could "help me through my religious turmoil."
In fact... Next thing you know she's standing there talking about this Christian camp thing that she went to, and how "most of the people who go there have already had some horrible event in their lives, but really, you shouldn't wait that long," and I'm thinking, Right, because there's no way that a 19 year old could have already had horrible events, like, you know, a suicide attempt, and she's telling me how the experience changed her forever and made such an impact on her life and I should look into it, really, if I want to get in touch with my faith...
Meanwhile I'm trying to figure out when she's going to leave. I was trying to be nice and smiley and friendly but honestly, it was getting hard. I mean, come on... Maybe I should have just said "Oh, I'm not Christian," but I think that would have dragged out the conversation longer, and ended up with her suggesting that I correct my "crisis of faith" at her church. Because honestly, that's what everyone says. I say I'm not Christian. They ask what religion I am. I say I have a collection of beliefs that are hard to explain and that don't fit into an organized faith. They assume that means I'm looking for a faith, specifically theirs, and start suggesting that I check out their church/temple/whatever.
But honestly? I am actually pretty religious. My faith is mine alone, but I adhere to my beliefs stronger than many Christians and Jews I know (I'd say Muslims too but this is New Hampshire, we have like ten Muslims total, and fewer of any of the other religions). And the important things- a strong moral code that fits with most of my society's customs, a sense of right and wrong, and a general sense of personal self-worth and acceptance of life and my place in it- that's all covered. I'm not in the market for a new faith, though I am in the market for followers, that'd be awesome. Starting a cult is twenty-third on my list of Things To Do To Ensure Immortality Among Geeks, and that's a joke, so no hate mail, please.
I talked about this for a long time with my sister and what we concluded was this: One of the central themes of our morality training as children is that it doesn't matter what you believe, so long as you're a good person. For me, being a good person is defined as following the five most basic morals in the world: Don't kill, love/protect/nurture your family, honor your vows, respect your fellow man, and care for your body and your soul. #4 is pretty significant here- because part of it's definition is "don't judge if you disagree."
I respect the beliefs of even the crazy uber-Christians. I agree with some of their beliefs, even. But the fact that I respect them is cheapened by the fact that they don't respect me, and think I am incapable of creating my own belief system without a church to guide me. So it doesn't matter what they believe- as long as they're a good person... which means that it doesn't matter what they believe, as long as they respect me. And everyone else.
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Oh, and I bought Harley Quinn. She is AWESOME. And bald. She's a bald Barbie. That makes her AWESOMER.
The festival lasted from the 17th to the 23rd, and consisted of some public religious rites, but also a school holiday, the making and giving of small presents, and a special market. They legalized gambling for the week, even for slaves, but that wasn't saying much since gambling wasn't exactly rare the rest of the year. There was much feasting and merriment.
They also basically excused slaves from punishment and let them treat their masters with disrespect, and the masters either served their slaves a banquet, ate with them, or allowed them to have one before the masters' own. Everyone wore casual clothes, not togas, so it further blurred the master/slave boundary. One person was elected master of ceremonies and directed the partying in his circle.
Saturnalia is a source of many Christmas traditions common in the middle ages- masters and servants switching places for the day, a master of ceremonies, that sort of thing. This major holiday was probably why it was decided that Jesus was born in late December, despite there being pretty much no evidence of any time of his birth- I mean, at his birth, even if you believe in him, he wasn't known to be a prophet of messiah or whatever you think he is. So they didn't really record anything. But the early Christian leaders weren't stupid, they knew that the best way to get people to stop celebrating the pagan holidays was to replace them with events that happened at the same time and were kinda similar in nature. Luckily, there were a lot of holidays that fell at around the same time, in different non-Christian religions, so lots of birds with one stone.
---------------------
Speaking of Christianity, interesting thing happened today. I was working at the register and a customer noticed my necklace- my prayer box necklace that my little cousin gave to me- and started asking me about it. "What's in your little box?" she asked. "My daughter has one like it."
"Oh, it's a prayer box," I explained. "You write your prayers on little slips of paper and put them inside.""Ah, yes, that's what my daughter's is too- but hers is a little different. where did you get it?"
"My little cousin gave it to me for Christmas one year," I answered, omitting the fact that said little cousin is almost a teenager at this point.
"Oh... Are you Catholic? Do you know if those are mostly a Catholic thing? I heard they might be."
Uhm... okay. Here's the thing. First of all, I'm not positive what religion my aunt, uncle, and cousins are, just that it's Protestant and I don't think it's Baptist. I want to say Methodist, but that's irrelevant. The thing is, my cousin is really active in her church and sings in the choir and all- and I know that whole family looks down on ours. I mean, my aunt was a born-again Christian, and my mother- her sister- is an atheist. Meanwhile Shrewd knows more about what she doesn't beleive in than what she does (though I don't think she considers herself atheist anymore) and I'm... well, I'm complicated. Now, I don't think that my cousin understands that I'm not Christian, because I doubt that's the sort of thing my aunt and uncle would talk to her about. She at least should know that I'm not as religious as her family is. But I still kinda felt like giving someone a prayer box is essentially saying, You should put your faith in my God and my religion, and be more religious, like me. It's a bit like giving a cross pendant. A lovely gift, if you know for sure that the person is a Christian and will appreciate wearing their religion around their neck.But I beat the system. I wear the box and I even put prayers inside of it, though they aren't serious prayers for the health and happiness of my family- those I say myself, since anything important ought to be said in person, and not written down. Right now my box contains prayers for success in school and for a Prince Charming to come along. Things that I could accomplish on my own with minimal divine intervention if I had the nerve and made enough effort. Still, they're prayers. They're just to a radically different god than the one the box was originally made for.
Anyway, back to today, and the conversation. It kinda went downhill from there. I told the woman, "Oh, my cousin is Protestant. It's not just a Catholic thing," thinking, It's not just a Christian thing, and she said, "Oh, good... Are you religious yourself?"
Uhm, lady? I don't even know you, I'm the girl who's ringing up your wrapping paper at 25% off. Why are you getting into a theological discussion?
"Oh, no, not really... My dad's Congregationalist, but we never really go to church," I answered, deciding that I would not explain the complexities of religion in my family to a total stranger, nor would I let her know that I was not only not Catholic, but not Christian at all, since she seemed the sort to smile sympathetically, offer some story about how Jesus saved her, and inform me of services at her church of choice with an excellent pastor who could "help me through my religious turmoil."
In fact... Next thing you know she's standing there talking about this Christian camp thing that she went to, and how "most of the people who go there have already had some horrible event in their lives, but really, you shouldn't wait that long," and I'm thinking, Right, because there's no way that a 19 year old could have already had horrible events, like, you know, a suicide attempt, and she's telling me how the experience changed her forever and made such an impact on her life and I should look into it, really, if I want to get in touch with my faith...
Meanwhile I'm trying to figure out when she's going to leave. I was trying to be nice and smiley and friendly but honestly, it was getting hard. I mean, come on... Maybe I should have just said "Oh, I'm not Christian," but I think that would have dragged out the conversation longer, and ended up with her suggesting that I correct my "crisis of faith" at her church. Because honestly, that's what everyone says. I say I'm not Christian. They ask what religion I am. I say I have a collection of beliefs that are hard to explain and that don't fit into an organized faith. They assume that means I'm looking for a faith, specifically theirs, and start suggesting that I check out their church/temple/whatever.
But honestly? I am actually pretty religious. My faith is mine alone, but I adhere to my beliefs stronger than many Christians and Jews I know (I'd say Muslims too but this is New Hampshire, we have like ten Muslims total, and fewer of any of the other religions). And the important things- a strong moral code that fits with most of my society's customs, a sense of right and wrong, and a general sense of personal self-worth and acceptance of life and my place in it- that's all covered. I'm not in the market for a new faith, though I am in the market for followers, that'd be awesome. Starting a cult is twenty-third on my list of Things To Do To Ensure Immortality Among Geeks, and that's a joke, so no hate mail, please.
I talked about this for a long time with my sister and what we concluded was this: One of the central themes of our morality training as children is that it doesn't matter what you believe, so long as you're a good person. For me, being a good person is defined as following the five most basic morals in the world: Don't kill, love/protect/nurture your family, honor your vows, respect your fellow man, and care for your body and your soul. #4 is pretty significant here- because part of it's definition is "don't judge if you disagree."
I respect the beliefs of even the crazy uber-Christians. I agree with some of their beliefs, even. But the fact that I respect them is cheapened by the fact that they don't respect me, and think I am incapable of creating my own belief system without a church to guide me. So it doesn't matter what they believe- as long as they're a good person... which means that it doesn't matter what they believe, as long as they respect me. And everyone else.
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Oh, and I bought Harley Quinn. She is AWESOME. And bald. She's a bald Barbie. That makes her AWESOMER.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Ugh, I want to go to bed.
Yesterday was my first day of work. It was pretty standard- sign a bunch of forms, watch some training videos, get a tour of the store... Then they stuck me at the fitting room, which isn't as easy an assignment as it sounds, because besides sorting the clothes that are returned and getting them ready to go back, they also have the fitting room person put security tags on new items and hang them up to go out to the racks. So always busy.
Mummy, Daddy, and the Brother met me after work and we went Christmas tree shopping. The very first tree the guy grabbed for us was absolutely perfect, so the trip was easier than most. Then we checked out the inside of the nursery there, and Daddy saw a miniature key lime tree that came up to my hip and produced real, edible fruit. He was raving about it. Mummy was all set to buy it for him but I had to remind her that a) the tree requires to be placed by a window that gets direct sunlight, of which we have almost none, and b) the chances that Daddy would actually remember to take care of it are pretty slim. Ah, reality checks. Always fun.
After the tree was up and Mummy had gone to work lighting it, I made dinner for everyone (I always cook dinner one of the first three nights after I come home) and then after our 9:00 meal (oops) we watched the movie I mentioned yesterday.
Then today, I woke up at noon, wandered downstairs for breakfast with every intent of going back upstairs afterwards to finish that biology paper that was due today, and the next thing I knew I was hanging wreaths out the windows, then decorating the tree, then planning dinner, then at Home Goods getting a set of burgundy glasses with my dad, god knows why, he drinks burgundy maybe once or twice a year, then I was getting groceries- and then at 5:30 pm I realized as we drove back with the groceries that I still had a paper to finish.
Oops.
It didn't take very long, though, and I was still able to be roped into helping with dinner again. Except we had rotisserie chicken, and no one thought to explain to me in my rotisserie virginity that it takes forever. We had dinner at 10:00. Tomorrow, I intend to serve dinner before my normal bedtime.
It's important to set goals for yourself, you know.
Mummy, Daddy, and the Brother met me after work and we went Christmas tree shopping. The very first tree the guy grabbed for us was absolutely perfect, so the trip was easier than most. Then we checked out the inside of the nursery there, and Daddy saw a miniature key lime tree that came up to my hip and produced real, edible fruit. He was raving about it. Mummy was all set to buy it for him but I had to remind her that a) the tree requires to be placed by a window that gets direct sunlight, of which we have almost none, and b) the chances that Daddy would actually remember to take care of it are pretty slim. Ah, reality checks. Always fun.
After the tree was up and Mummy had gone to work lighting it, I made dinner for everyone (I always cook dinner one of the first three nights after I come home) and then after our 9:00 meal (oops) we watched the movie I mentioned yesterday.
Then today, I woke up at noon, wandered downstairs for breakfast with every intent of going back upstairs afterwards to finish that biology paper that was due today, and the next thing I knew I was hanging wreaths out the windows, then decorating the tree, then planning dinner, then at Home Goods getting a set of burgundy glasses with my dad, god knows why, he drinks burgundy maybe once or twice a year, then I was getting groceries- and then at 5:30 pm I realized as we drove back with the groceries that I still had a paper to finish.
Oops.
It didn't take very long, though, and I was still able to be roped into helping with dinner again. Except we had rotisserie chicken, and no one thought to explain to me in my rotisserie virginity that it takes forever. We had dinner at 10:00. Tomorrow, I intend to serve dinner before my normal bedtime.
It's important to set goals for yourself, you know.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
I had really good ravioli for lunch today
It's the Agonalia Indigeti, today, which was celebrated four times a year (January, March, May, and December). The thing about the Agonalia is all the Romans knew was they were to publicly sacrifice a ram. They didn't know why, or to whom. Just that they were supposed to do it. Which makes it one of the more ridiculous holidays.
It's also the Septimontium, a festival celebrating the wall that was built around all seven hills of Rome.
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Two nights ago I blogged about people criticizing overweight people and telling them to just "diet and exercise" like it was the easiest thing in the world. I guess now I'm going to tell the other extreme. Have you ever read a pro-ana website? It's ridiculous. You think, god, these girls can't be for real; even if they think about it, surely they won't admit it. You tell me you're 5'9" and 100 lbs, and all you ate today was a half an apple and a bite of turkey, and you're so mad that you had to gain ten pounds because your boyfriend told you he'd break up with you if you didn't start taking better care of yourself? Honestly.
The trouble with either eating disorder- overeating or undereating- is that in this modern day and age, you can find someone who celebrates your unhealthy body. There are support groups for overweight people, telling them to celebrate themselves as Big Beautiful Women, ignoring the fact that they are at a greater risk of many illnesses. "Society is being spiteful," they say, "and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't diet away our lovely extra pounds."
My father always said the most basic, universal standard of beauty was health. That's why most guys like girls who are thin, but not thin enough that their bones show in weird places. That's why big boobs and some junk in the trunk is sexy. And that's why the number one standard of beauty is good skin. You will never find a website support group saying "Society is being spiteful, and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't wash our skin once a day to chase away our lovely acne."
Health and weight, though, poses a problem. What's healthy? Used to be weight was a sign that you ate well enough, so weight was beautiful. Now, most people in this country can get a decent amount to eat, but we've discovered the health problems associated with being fat, so thin is in. None of this changes the fact that absolutely no fat is as unhealthy as a lot of it is. Beauty is being at your ideal weight. Not too thin or too heavy. And your ideal weight is not what you think would be a good weight to be, but rather what your doctor tells you it should be. My doctor tells me to lose a few pounds. Thus, I'm overweight. If your doctor tells you you could stand to put some meat on your bones, you could.
Look, there is nothing sexy about a preteen body with bones jutting out at weird angles. These girls set ridiculous goals and then proudly boast their accomplishments before deciding that that was easy enough, they can go further, further... And when someone tries to intervene, they say, "Society is being spiteful," they say, "and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't force-feed ourselves until we swell up like a balloon." Or my favorite, "They're just jealous of my body."
It seems that whatever your body type, they're jealous of it. They want to be big and beautiful, and be able to eat whatever they want without caring that they're heavy. They want to be supermodel thin, and look like the girls in the fashion magazines. Well, kids, I hate to break it to you. I don't want to look like that. I want to have muscles; a toned stomach, nice arms, great legs. I also want to hide my ribcage and keep my breasts. I want to look- and feel- healthy. I know what that means for me. Do you?
Weight is not about self-image, honestly. If you listen to your doctor, and stick within what he recommends, you're fine. I'm sick of people criticizing society for not letting them stay at an unhealthy weight. Yes, it's your body, and your choice. But if your eating habits are incredibly, obviously unhealthy- or if you're in a chat room telling everyone that you're anorexic or that you're a compulsive eater, then people have the right to point it out, if they're nice about it. Especially your doctor- he doesn't just have the right, he has the responsibility.
-----------------------
That said: Being thin does not mean you're anorexic. Plenty of people are a little underweight because of their metabolism, but anorexia is when they're not trying to stay at a doctor-recommended weight. And while I've never been on this side, as far as I can tell, the only thing that compares to the challenge of loosing weight it gaining it if you have a fast metabolism. There are people who eat until they feel like they're going to explode and they can't stay at a healthy weight. There is a physical limit to how much people can eat, and these people have to push themselves past it every day. I feel bad for them. I swear that's not even a joke, can you imagine having to eat, eat, eat once your stomach already felt hard and dense as a rock? Besides, when you gain weight, you feel gross and sluggish even if your body needs it, because it's just not used to the change.
I admit, I make anorexia jokes about girls who are very thin. I'd never do that if I really thought they were ill, but that doesn't make it any more fair that I joke about anorexia but get mad if people joke about weight. The trouble is, we live in a world where a joke about someone being bone-skinny is not seen as being nearly as mean as making a joke about them being overweight. But I'm getting better. I don't make those jokes nearly as much. It's been nearly two months, I think, since I made one, besides the occasional benign "you're so skinny" comment or getting mad at a girl if she claims she's fat when her diameter is half of mine, which is really more of a "remember who you're talking to" comment than anything else.
I'm not perfect. I know what I should do, and I try, but I make a LOT of mistakes. Which is why I have so few friends.
-----------------------
Meanwhile, one of those few friends- actually, a guy that I barely consider my friend anymore, since I haven't seen him since graduation and wasn't really planning to make an effort to see him again,informed me today that he wants to meet so he can give me my Christmas present. Uhm... what? We barely spoke all senior year, we haven't really been what I'd classify "friends" since the beginning of junior year... why is he giving me a gift? Honestly, does he even know me well enough to get me something I'd like? Meanwhile this means (it was expressly implied) that I have to get
him a gift, too. And I haven't a CLUE what to get him (See gift idea #1 at right). I don't usually buy my friends Christmas gifts except for Mistake, because I've known her for so long she might as well be family. But I mean, if asked, I would have described Mack as my best friend last Christmas, and I didn't get him a gift, at least not one specifically tailored to him. And this year, it's a small gift for Mistake as always, and nothing for the rest of them unless it's something they can eat. I might bake cookies or something. The point is to make a gift they won't feel bad about accepting if they didn't get me anything, and I don't expect them to get me anything.
So it's actually more of a problem than a benefit for me. Because he doesn't know me well enough to get me something I need, so I'm guessing it's either something that's obviously related to something I'm interested in, or it's just a really bad gift.
And what do I get for him? I haven't a clue what he's interested in, and I'm not about to spend more money on him that I spend on a girl I've been friends with since kindergarten, so that leaves me with a pretty small budget. Grr...
I might check the stocking-stuffer bin at the Discovery Store to see if they have anything really inexpensive that's still cool. Dammit, though, this complicates life!
-----------------------
Exam #1 is over. Bio is out of the way. Loquatia and I studied together, and we explained to each other what we didn't understand, so it was really helpful. I think I did okay. My guess is 90%, maybe 85% if we were studying something wrong or if he's really picky.
And I got an 81% in Bio lab, and an 80% in Chem lab, both a lot better than I feared, so that's good.
Tomorrow: Latin. Not too much of a concern. Then Chem on Thursday, which is a concern- a HUGE concern.
And I still need to pack up for the break. Hmm.
Well, study-break's over. Back to work for this grade slave.
It's also the Septimontium, a festival celebrating the wall that was built around all seven hills of Rome.
-----------------------
Two nights ago I blogged about people criticizing overweight people and telling them to just "diet and exercise" like it was the easiest thing in the world. I guess now I'm going to tell the other extreme. Have you ever read a pro-ana website? It's ridiculous. You think, god, these girls can't be for real; even if they think about it, surely they won't admit it. You tell me you're 5'9" and 100 lbs, and all you ate today was a half an apple and a bite of turkey, and you're so mad that you had to gain ten pounds because your boyfriend told you he'd break up with you if you didn't start taking better care of yourself? Honestly.
The trouble with either eating disorder- overeating or undereating- is that in this modern day and age, you can find someone who celebrates your unhealthy body. There are support groups for overweight people, telling them to celebrate themselves as Big Beautiful Women, ignoring the fact that they are at a greater risk of many illnesses. "Society is being spiteful," they say, "and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't diet away our lovely extra pounds."
My father always said the most basic, universal standard of beauty was health. That's why most guys like girls who are thin, but not thin enough that their bones show in weird places. That's why big boobs and some junk in the trunk is sexy. And that's why the number one standard of beauty is good skin. You will never find a website support group saying "Society is being spiteful, and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't wash our skin once a day to chase away our lovely acne."Health and weight, though, poses a problem. What's healthy? Used to be weight was a sign that you ate well enough, so weight was beautiful. Now, most people in this country can get a decent amount to eat, but we've discovered the health problems associated with being fat, so thin is in. None of this changes the fact that absolutely no fat is as unhealthy as a lot of it is. Beauty is being at your ideal weight. Not too thin or too heavy. And your ideal weight is not what you think would be a good weight to be, but rather what your doctor tells you it should be. My doctor tells me to lose a few pounds. Thus, I'm overweight. If your doctor tells you you could stand to put some meat on your bones, you could.
Look, there is nothing sexy about a preteen body with bones jutting out at weird angles. These girls set ridiculous goals and then proudly boast their accomplishments before deciding that that was easy enough, they can go further, further... And when someone tries to intervene, they say, "Society is being spiteful," they say, "and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't force-feed ourselves until we swell up like a balloon." Or my favorite, "They're just jealous of my body."
It seems that whatever your body type, they're jealous of it. They want to be big and beautiful, and be able to eat whatever they want without caring that they're heavy. They want to be supermodel thin, and look like the girls in the fashion magazines. Well, kids, I hate to break it to you. I don't want to look like that. I want to have muscles; a toned stomach, nice arms, great legs. I also want to hide my ribcage and keep my breasts. I want to look- and feel- healthy. I know what that means for me. Do you?Weight is not about self-image, honestly. If you listen to your doctor, and stick within what he recommends, you're fine. I'm sick of people criticizing society for not letting them stay at an unhealthy weight. Yes, it's your body, and your choice. But if your eating habits are incredibly, obviously unhealthy- or if you're in a chat room telling everyone that you're anorexic or that you're a compulsive eater, then people have the right to point it out, if they're nice about it. Especially your doctor- he doesn't just have the right, he has the responsibility.
-----------------------
That said: Being thin does not mean you're anorexic. Plenty of people are a little underweight because of their metabolism, but anorexia is when they're not trying to stay at a doctor-recommended weight. And while I've never been on this side, as far as I can tell, the only thing that compares to the challenge of loosing weight it gaining it if you have a fast metabolism. There are people who eat until they feel like they're going to explode and they can't stay at a healthy weight. There is a physical limit to how much people can eat, and these people have to push themselves past it every day. I feel bad for them. I swear that's not even a joke, can you imagine having to eat, eat, eat once your stomach already felt hard and dense as a rock? Besides, when you gain weight, you feel gross and sluggish even if your body needs it, because it's just not used to the change.
I admit, I make anorexia jokes about girls who are very thin. I'd never do that if I really thought they were ill, but that doesn't make it any more fair that I joke about anorexia but get mad if people joke about weight. The trouble is, we live in a world where a joke about someone being bone-skinny is not seen as being nearly as mean as making a joke about them being overweight. But I'm getting better. I don't make those jokes nearly as much. It's been nearly two months, I think, since I made one, besides the occasional benign "you're so skinny" comment or getting mad at a girl if she claims she's fat when her diameter is half of mine, which is really more of a "remember who you're talking to" comment than anything else.
I'm not perfect. I know what I should do, and I try, but I make a LOT of mistakes. Which is why I have so few friends.
-----------------------
Meanwhile, one of those few friends- actually, a guy that I barely consider my friend anymore, since I haven't seen him since graduation and wasn't really planning to make an effort to see him again,informed me today that he wants to meet so he can give me my Christmas present. Uhm... what? We barely spoke all senior year, we haven't really been what I'd classify "friends" since the beginning of junior year... why is he giving me a gift? Honestly, does he even know me well enough to get me something I'd like? Meanwhile this means (it was expressly implied) that I have to get
him a gift, too. And I haven't a CLUE what to get him (See gift idea #1 at right). I don't usually buy my friends Christmas gifts except for Mistake, because I've known her for so long she might as well be family. But I mean, if asked, I would have described Mack as my best friend last Christmas, and I didn't get him a gift, at least not one specifically tailored to him. And this year, it's a small gift for Mistake as always, and nothing for the rest of them unless it's something they can eat. I might bake cookies or something. The point is to make a gift they won't feel bad about accepting if they didn't get me anything, and I don't expect them to get me anything.So it's actually more of a problem than a benefit for me. Because he doesn't know me well enough to get me something I need, so I'm guessing it's either something that's obviously related to something I'm interested in, or it's just a really bad gift.
And what do I get for him? I haven't a clue what he's interested in, and I'm not about to spend more money on him that I spend on a girl I've been friends with since kindergarten, so that leaves me with a pretty small budget. Grr...
I might check the stocking-stuffer bin at the Discovery Store to see if they have anything really inexpensive that's still cool. Dammit, though, this complicates life!
-----------------------
Exam #1 is over. Bio is out of the way. Loquatia and I studied together, and we explained to each other what we didn't understand, so it was really helpful. I think I did okay. My guess is 90%, maybe 85% if we were studying something wrong or if he's really picky.
And I got an 81% in Bio lab, and an 80% in Chem lab, both a lot better than I feared, so that's good.
Tomorrow: Latin. Not too much of a concern. Then Chem on Thursday, which is a concern- a HUGE concern.
And I still need to pack up for the break. Hmm.
Well, study-break's over. Back to work for this grade slave.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
"Your Deeds Today Will Be Your Memories Tomorrow"
Today is the Fili Saturni, a festival to honor the sons of Saturn/Cronus- Jupiter/Zeus, Neptune/Poseidon, and Pluto/Hades.
----------------------
I am sick. My throat kills and I generally feel like I'm falling apart. This also means that while I am STARVING, I can't actually eat, because my throat's too sore. This is NOT COOL. I need chicken noodle Ramen...
I was trying to choke down lunch today (luckily there was scampi, which was soft and oily so easy to handle) with Libentra, and we were approached (in the cafeteria, mind you) by an overly bubbly salesgirl who was offering a promotional deal to the first 100 girls who signed up. The deal was for a spa in Portsmouth, and it was for a hair analysis, style consultation, design cut, shampoo, and style, deep conditioning treatment, scalp massage, eyebrow shaping, manicure, pedicure, hand paraffin treatment, face-framing highlights, color gloss (no idea what this is, sounds like they spray-paint you, or maybe your car), light therapy treatment, skin analysis, and ultra sound corrective facial.
So it's pretty pricey, right? I mean, that's a lot of stuff. I know a manicure is like $15 and a facial can be like $60... No. It was $38. For the whole thing (well, excluding tips). I mean, like, damn. Good deal. So I'm thinking I know quite a few ladies who wouldn't mind some of this stuff, like my mom, my sister, and some of my friends (Candida would mind horribly, but besides her), and since it's Christmastime and all, I figured, eh, why not, and I bought it.
Now, naturally, I'm sitting here debating the choice... because I never make a impetuous decision without debating it six ways from Sunday after the fact. But I have decided not to regret this choice. I refuse. At least not until I call the spa to make an appointment and discover that I've been scammed or something. But they have a website, which validates the offer somewhat...
Meh. Worst happens, the salesgirl uses the credit card number and robs me, and then discovers that it's got a $500 limit on purchases so it was a waste of time.
That's NOT my Christmas present, though. That's just a nice thing I want to do for people. I still have Christmas shopping to do. I can't really do it yet, though, because I want to make sure I have a job and figure out how much I'll be earning before I start spending money. And yes, I know that I'm broke and I shouldn't have bought the spa thing, but honestly, it's probably worth it and more.
Oh, and by the way, if anyone knows someone who highlights their hair (with something besides henna), someone who might want to get face-framing highlights for free, let me know. Or, you know, if you feel you particularly deserve something on the above list (and are female). I haven't a clue what some of them are, anyway, you're welcome to those.
----------------------
A new word, which I am trying to get into common usage: mythologic, n. 1. The alternative form of logic, involving much leaping, that is used in mythology. 2. An oxymoron.
This is due to two conversations I was in today, in myth class and then in latin, both unrelated but along the same vein. The first discussed the logic of Leda having sex with a man and a swan in the same night, but all four of her children- two from each father- being born from eggs. Even the mortal ones. That was in myth class.
In Latin, we're translating Ovid's "Midas" from the Metamorphoses, and in the discussion of the god Dionysus and his role, the professor mentioned the story about Semele, Dionysus' mother, dying, and how Zeus sewed the unborn Dionysus into his thigh. One of the brighter (sarcasm here) students, a young man named for a city, asked, "Wait- is that logical? Like, could that happen biologically?"
Yes, honey. It's really possible for a man to deliver a child by sewing him into his thigh. Riiiiiight. Can we get some sex ed in here, stat!?
----------------------
I was saddened somewhat by the news that Blue Eyes won't be continuing in Latin next semester. Not that I'm definitely going into the class he would have taken anyway. Blue Eyes, by the way, is the young man who sits next to me in class. His eyes are very, very blue (hence the moniker). You will find that while I name friends and girls I talk about a lot by Latin names, like "Tacita" or "Libentra," I give Native-American-esque names to the guys that I'm not friends with but talk about semi-frequently. Hence names like "Blue Eyes." Or "Incredibly Hot Guy," who's in most of my classes and lives on my floor.
By the way, Blue Eyes is a nice guy, who has actually occasionally tried to talk to me, which is why I'm kinda saddened that he doesn't like Latin enough to continue. It's not just for the eyes. I'm not shallow... all the time.
---------------------
Well, that's about it for today, I guess. I have a lab report to finish and then the pre-lab, and I have to work on that miserable poem. I'm about halfway done at this point, I think. I still need Libentra to check it over, though, and scan it to let me know if it sounds iambic enough. That poem shall be the death of me.
16 Days until Break!
----------------------
I am sick. My throat kills and I generally feel like I'm falling apart. This also means that while I am STARVING, I can't actually eat, because my throat's too sore. This is NOT COOL. I need chicken noodle Ramen...
I was trying to choke down lunch today (luckily there was scampi, which was soft and oily so easy to handle) with Libentra, and we were approached (in the cafeteria, mind you) by an overly bubbly salesgirl who was offering a promotional deal to the first 100 girls who signed up. The deal was for a spa in Portsmouth, and it was for a hair analysis, style consultation, design cut, shampoo, and style, deep conditioning treatment, scalp massage, eyebrow shaping, manicure, pedicure, hand paraffin treatment, face-framing highlights, color gloss (no idea what this is, sounds like they spray-paint you, or maybe your car), light therapy treatment, skin analysis, and ultra sound corrective facial.
So it's pretty pricey, right? I mean, that's a lot of stuff. I know a manicure is like $15 and a facial can be like $60... No. It was $38. For the whole thing (well, excluding tips). I mean, like, damn. Good deal. So I'm thinking I know quite a few ladies who wouldn't mind some of this stuff, like my mom, my sister, and some of my friends (Candida would mind horribly, but besides her), and since it's Christmastime and all, I figured, eh, why not, and I bought it.
Now, naturally, I'm sitting here debating the choice... because I never make a impetuous decision without debating it six ways from Sunday after the fact. But I have decided not to regret this choice. I refuse. At least not until I call the spa to make an appointment and discover that I've been scammed or something. But they have a website, which validates the offer somewhat...
Meh. Worst happens, the salesgirl uses the credit card number and robs me, and then discovers that it's got a $500 limit on purchases so it was a waste of time.
That's NOT my Christmas present, though. That's just a nice thing I want to do for people. I still have Christmas shopping to do. I can't really do it yet, though, because I want to make sure I have a job and figure out how much I'll be earning before I start spending money. And yes, I know that I'm broke and I shouldn't have bought the spa thing, but honestly, it's probably worth it and more.
Oh, and by the way, if anyone knows someone who highlights their hair (with something besides henna), someone who might want to get face-framing highlights for free, let me know. Or, you know, if you feel you particularly deserve something on the above list (and are female). I haven't a clue what some of them are, anyway, you're welcome to those.
----------------------
A new word, which I am trying to get into common usage: mythologic, n. 1. The alternative form of logic, involving much leaping, that is used in mythology. 2. An oxymoron.
This is due to two conversations I was in today, in myth class and then in latin, both unrelated but along the same vein. The first discussed the logic of Leda having sex with a man and a swan in the same night, but all four of her children- two from each father- being born from eggs. Even the mortal ones. That was in myth class.
In Latin, we're translating Ovid's "Midas" from the Metamorphoses, and in the discussion of the god Dionysus and his role, the professor mentioned the story about Semele, Dionysus' mother, dying, and how Zeus sewed the unborn Dionysus into his thigh. One of the brighter (sarcasm here) students, a young man named for a city, asked, "Wait- is that logical? Like, could that happen biologically?"
Yes, honey. It's really possible for a man to deliver a child by sewing him into his thigh. Riiiiiight. Can we get some sex ed in here, stat!?
----------------------
I was saddened somewhat by the news that Blue Eyes won't be continuing in Latin next semester. Not that I'm definitely going into the class he would have taken anyway. Blue Eyes, by the way, is the young man who sits next to me in class. His eyes are very, very blue (hence the moniker). You will find that while I name friends and girls I talk about a lot by Latin names, like "Tacita" or "Libentra," I give Native-American-esque names to the guys that I'm not friends with but talk about semi-frequently. Hence names like "Blue Eyes." Or "Incredibly Hot Guy," who's in most of my classes and lives on my floor.
By the way, Blue Eyes is a nice guy, who has actually occasionally tried to talk to me, which is why I'm kinda saddened that he doesn't like Latin enough to continue. It's not just for the eyes. I'm not shallow... all the time.
---------------------
Well, that's about it for today, I guess. I have a lab report to finish and then the pre-lab, and I have to work on that miserable poem. I'm about halfway done at this point, I think. I still need Libentra to check it over, though, and scan it to let me know if it sounds iambic enough. That poem shall be the death of me.
16 Days until Break!
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
"A Different World Cannot Be Built By Indifferent People"
Today is the Egyptian feast of Hathor-Sekhmet. As in, Egyptian celebration of the fertility goddess Hathor. So pretty standard fertility rites. Knock yourselves out.
--------------------------
I have this really bad habit of eavesdropping, which is to say that I have a bad habit of not not listening, and consequently overhearing stuff that was not intended for my ears. This is especially true for when my roommates have phone conversations in the room when I'm studying. It's not that I'm trying to overhear, I just do.
Anyway, normally nothing of interest is said, but last night Loquatia was talking on the phone with her mother, and she described this movie she'd seen in sociology about transgendered people, and I got the distinct impression that she was seriously questioning the tenets of her Christian faith regarding them. She was calling to ask her mother what Christians were supposed to think about people who despite their biological gender, considered themselves the opposite gender from a very young age. As in, long before it could be a result of rebelliousness or something.
This struck me for two reasons: first, that she needed to call her mother to know what to think. That's the only problem I have with religion: some followers believe that all their thoughts have to be dictated by the faith. But more important, I think, is that she was thinking about transgenderation to begin with. That's why we're at college- to learn and to broaden our horizons. If Loquatia could come out of school with doubts about the validity of anti-transgender claims, then clearly her education was worth it. Whatever the pastor may say.
--------------------------
Countdown to Christmas Break: 17 Days.
I'm working on my final project for Myth, the epic poem in iambic pentameter. It's due Now, "And you did in distress no more sing sweet" may be iambic pentameter (or close), but it's lousy grammar... See, I wrote the whole thing first, a seventy-line poem about Orpheus and Eurydice, in something vaguely resembling pentameter, at least, if not iambs. Now I'm going through and carefully correcting each line to the proper meter. So "Who swiftly to Hades Hermes did take" becomes "Who swift to Hades Hermes Guide did take" and the aforementioned line was originally the much more logical-sounding "And you in sadness no more did sing sweet."
Writing seventy lines of poetry in rhyming couplets took me half an hour. Correcting the first nine of those lines to something close to iambic pentameter took me an hour and a half.
It's gonna be a fun week.
--------------------------
Some bright individual has either abandoned an egg salad sandwich in a particularly secretive spot, or exploded a stink bomb on the main stairwell. It smells SO BAD. Nasty. I really hope they live in this dorm, so they have to deal with the effects of this prank like the rest of us...
--------------------------
Loquatia is listening to a Christian Radio talk show, right now, and they're telling a story- it's for kids, but she grew up on it and she loves it. It's weird, though. They're telling the story of this family that gets robbed on Christmas Eve and how they "pull together with the spirit of Christmas" and sit around reading the Bible about the birth of Jesus.
Now, I dunno about you, but if I had a family and was robbed on Christmas Day, I'd give my kids a hug and call up Auntie Shrewd or someone, tell her what happened, get the turkey out of the fridge (because no one would steal a raw turkey, I mean, come on) and go celebrate at her house, then replace the gifts a few days later. I certainly wouldn't expect my kids to sit around while I told them Nativity stories.
This is why I don't like Christian talk radio.
Speaking of the birth of Jesus, I have decided that I want to see The Nativity Story, when it comes out in theaters. I'm not Christian but I like that story, and it looks like they took an interesting approach to it, focusing on Joseph and Mary's views of the situation rather than rambling on about the glory of God. The problem is that I haven't a clue who I'd go with: I don't go to movies alone, and my usual movie buddy, Shrewd, most likely doesn't want to go to a Christmas movie. Also, whoever I go with would have to deal with my after-movie discussion, so that rules out anyone who is particularly sensitive to having a heathen discuss their faith. Which rules out my dad, who is just now starting to regret not raising us Congregationalist. I think it was the conversation Shrewd and I had about selling our souls to the Devil.
Maybe my mom would go with me.
------------------------
Now I have to go read for Myth. We're supposed to read Book 1, 2, and 3 in the Iliad. One problem: We weren't given the Iliad. We were given the Odyssey. So I have to go buy a book. And I'm doing that now, because the talk radio has switched to someone ranting about how we'd all go to hell if not for the grace of God, and we don't deserve anything that God gives us, and how we're all inherently a bunch of lustful, slothful, greedy liars. The latter part may be true, but honestly, I can only take so much preaching...
--------------------------
I have this really bad habit of eavesdropping, which is to say that I have a bad habit of not not listening, and consequently overhearing stuff that was not intended for my ears. This is especially true for when my roommates have phone conversations in the room when I'm studying. It's not that I'm trying to overhear, I just do.
Anyway, normally nothing of interest is said, but last night Loquatia was talking on the phone with her mother, and she described this movie she'd seen in sociology about transgendered people, and I got the distinct impression that she was seriously questioning the tenets of her Christian faith regarding them. She was calling to ask her mother what Christians were supposed to think about people who despite their biological gender, considered themselves the opposite gender from a very young age. As in, long before it could be a result of rebelliousness or something.
This struck me for two reasons: first, that she needed to call her mother to know what to think. That's the only problem I have with religion: some followers believe that all their thoughts have to be dictated by the faith. But more important, I think, is that she was thinking about transgenderation to begin with. That's why we're at college- to learn and to broaden our horizons. If Loquatia could come out of school with doubts about the validity of anti-transgender claims, then clearly her education was worth it. Whatever the pastor may say.
--------------------------
Countdown to Christmas Break: 17 Days.
I'm working on my final project for Myth, the epic poem in iambic pentameter. It's due Now, "And you did in distress no more sing sweet" may be iambic pentameter (or close), but it's lousy grammar... See, I wrote the whole thing first, a seventy-line poem about Orpheus and Eurydice, in something vaguely resembling pentameter, at least, if not iambs. Now I'm going through and carefully correcting each line to the proper meter. So "Who swiftly to Hades Hermes did take" becomes "Who swift to Hades Hermes Guide did take" and the aforementioned line was originally the much more logical-sounding "And you in sadness no more did sing sweet."
Writing seventy lines of poetry in rhyming couplets took me half an hour. Correcting the first nine of those lines to something close to iambic pentameter took me an hour and a half.
It's gonna be a fun week.
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Some bright individual has either abandoned an egg salad sandwich in a particularly secretive spot, or exploded a stink bomb on the main stairwell. It smells SO BAD. Nasty. I really hope they live in this dorm, so they have to deal with the effects of this prank like the rest of us...
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Loquatia is listening to a Christian Radio talk show, right now, and they're telling a story- it's for kids, but she grew up on it and she loves it. It's weird, though. They're telling the story of this family that gets robbed on Christmas Eve and how they "pull together with the spirit of Christmas" and sit around reading the Bible about the birth of Jesus.
Now, I dunno about you, but if I had a family and was robbed on Christmas Day, I'd give my kids a hug and call up Auntie Shrewd or someone, tell her what happened, get the turkey out of the fridge (because no one would steal a raw turkey, I mean, come on) and go celebrate at her house, then replace the gifts a few days later. I certainly wouldn't expect my kids to sit around while I told them Nativity stories.
This is why I don't like Christian talk radio.
Speaking of the birth of Jesus, I have decided that I want to see The Nativity Story, when it comes out in theaters. I'm not Christian but I like that story, and it looks like they took an interesting approach to it, focusing on Joseph and Mary's views of the situation rather than rambling on about the glory of God. The problem is that I haven't a clue who I'd go with: I don't go to movies alone, and my usual movie buddy, Shrewd, most likely doesn't want to go to a Christmas movie. Also, whoever I go with would have to deal with my after-movie discussion, so that rules out anyone who is particularly sensitive to having a heathen discuss their faith. Which rules out my dad, who is just now starting to regret not raising us Congregationalist. I think it was the conversation Shrewd and I had about selling our souls to the Devil.
Maybe my mom would go with me.
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Now I have to go read for Myth. We're supposed to read Book 1, 2, and 3 in the Iliad. One problem: We weren't given the Iliad. We were given the Odyssey. So I have to go buy a book. And I'm doing that now, because the talk radio has switched to someone ranting about how we'd all go to hell if not for the grace of God, and we don't deserve anything that God gives us, and how we're all inherently a bunch of lustful, slothful, greedy liars. The latter part may be true, but honestly, I can only take so much preaching...
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