Move complete

Omgosh!

Will post more later.

Confession

I'm really really nervous about moving. I don't think I've been this nervous about moving since I was a kid. I'm afraid it's going to cost too much and I'll be plagued by crushing debt for the rest of my life, or it will turn out to be a mistake, or I'll start working and find out that somehow I completely misgauged myself and have to start all over again, or I won't make any friends, or I won't do well, or just generally that it will be horrible and I will be horrible.

*big sigh* Can someone share their confidence with me, because I think I misplaced mine.

Secret of me # 12

My attention span is very short. Imagine that paying attention was like using a machete to hack your way through a jungle of super-fast growing vines. If you're really into it you can make progress. For me every noise, every bit of music or blip from the TV, every flash of color or movement, every itch; it's like dropping the machete.

This is why I DO NOT LIKE "background noise." No music, not TV, no radio. Because, to me "background noise" is "we're going to away your machete and then asking why you didn't make it through the jungle."

Things People Said to Me # 1

When I was in high school I knew a girl. I knew many people but I was in the habit of forgetting them after they left. She moved and I've forgotten her name and her face but I haven't forgotten her or what she said to me.
She was moving and I was sad, I'd liked her and felt like she was a bit of a bit sister to me, which was a rare feeling. I asked her if she would remember me.
She looked at me and said,
"Lori, you're the kind of person that once someone meets you, they can never forget you."

Not Really a Big Deal But...

I've seen this a lot on fan comments and such, that people want Benedict Cumberbatch as the next Doctor Who. I like Cumberbatch, I think he has a fascinating face and he's an excellent actor. That being said, if he ends up as the next Doctor, well, I'm not going to be watching Doctor Who anymore. *shrug*

Favorite Musicians

My favorite musicians are:

Derek Webb

and

JJ. Heller

I don't really know who else I can listen to on repeat for months. I'm not saying I like all their songs, but most of them.

 I also enjoy:

Ingrid Michaelson

Sara Bareilles

Ludovico Einaudi

Confusion

I don't tend to consider myself a slow person, but there are...a great many things in the world that confuse me.

For example, asking a question, but meaning a different question. Such as "Have you seen [this movie?]" when you mean "Do you want to see this movie with me?" How is anyone to know there was a second question there?

Also, when I say "I disagree" or "You're wrong" and people hear all manner of insults. There's nothing wrong with being wrong, or with disagreeing. I'm wrong half the time and I think I'm probably pretty average about the amount of things I'm correct on. And, many many people disagree with me, learning why they disagree informs me, and sometimes it changes my mind, and generally they are free to have their different opinions. I don't understand what the big deal is.

See, that's something else I don't understand.

I don't understand why people think "fair" where two people suffer mistreatment equally is some how just as "fair" and desirable as two people not suffering.

I don't understand why body hair is bad. The argument for hairlessness=hygiene is, as far as I can tell, a sham argument.

I don't understand why peeing is gross, or why we have to do it in isolation, or why we need to pee into clean water.

Or why sweat is bad, or why human smell is bad.

I don't understand why we need to change our clothes every season.

I don't understand why I'm not supposed to wear white after labor day.

I don't understand why knife has to face the plate and or the spoon should be on the other side.

I don't understand why bigger is better, or richer is better.

I don't understand why we need to drive.

I don't understand how an office job is the ideal work.

I don't understand why flawless fruits and veggies are more desirable than ones strait from a garden.

I don't understand why we need bottled water.

I don't understand how a pedicure is a "treat" (now that's unhygienic).

I don't understand why I have to say "I'm fine" when I'm not.

I don't understand why some people kiss when they meet but other people just hug and other people just say hello. Can't we have a standard?

I don't understand how bitter can be bad when many bitter foods are good for you.

I don't understand how we can gauge someone's value or character by their waistline.

I don't understand why we believe politicians every few years when they've always lied in the past.

I really don't understand why people worship or even care about the lives of actors/athletes/musicians.

I don't understand why difficult is bad and easy is good.

I don't understand how ignoring a problem is supposed to make it go away.

I don't understand being competitive about everything.

I don't understand why people yell at service workers.

I don't understand why people think they "deserve" special treatment.

I don't understand why people think that "common sense" shouldn't have to be taught when "common sense" differs depending on the country.

I don't understand why people always want to be in a group, and make other people part of a group. Why do we need groups?

I don't understand...

No, there are a lot of things I don't understand.

Secret of Me # 11

I'm a pretty literal person. 

This is my natural function. Though I'm very emotional, I try to analyze things empirically, and I almost always known why I did something, even if it was rash and emotional. 

I'm specific with what I say, exact in what I mean.

I can be confused (very very confused) and frustrated by people who aren't. 

Not always, I've learned to think ....differently. I've learned (am learning) to see how other people think. I've learned sarcasm. I've learned hyperbole.  I can recognize various nuanced voice inflections, if I'm listening for them.

Learned.

It's not natural. 

And, when I'm in a state of agitation, I'm as literal as I ever was. 

It's great for debates, not so great for fights. 

On the up side for everyone else, I never "play games" with people. 

P.S. Would it be redundant to say I like the way I am?

Secret of Me # 10

I have...

arguments,

animated arguments,

with myself

in my head.

Sometimes, it seems as though parts of my psyche are divergent entities all guiding me to act in a cohesive fashion. I'm not entirely sure it's sane, but I am sure it's good for me.

Here is are a few real examples. 

*me, working out, sweat dripping down my back*

other me: Woohoo! You go! You can do it! You rock! 

me: Hehehehehe. Why, thank you.

*me, opening web page that will suck up my time*

other me: Don't do it, don't do it!

Me: Gah! *closes out page...then opens it again*

other me: This a bad idea and you know it. How will you...

me: Shut up. I'm doing it. Shut up.

*me, after a mistake/bad choice*

other me: God, you suck. I mean, really? You knew this was going to happen. Idiot.

            me: That isn't helpful and isn't going to fix the problem. We're don't insult anymore, remember? It's not productive. We're being productive now.

other me; Fine fine. You don't suck.

Really, see, it's totally healthy. ;-)

You see, the key isn't to be sane; really, that's a pretty ridiculous goal; the key is to be functional and healthy. You can be abnormal without being dysfunctional. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Movie Review: Swinging With The Finkels

I just watched Swinging With the Finkels from Redbox. I wanted some brainless fun for a night with a migraine.

20 minutes in and I was already wondering when this movie was going to end.

40 minutes in, and I feel as though I was extremely patient to wait that long, I began skipping ahead, watching a minute or two, and skipping again. I saw maybe 10 minutes out of the last half of the movie.

By and far Martin Freeman was the best thing in this movie, and certainly the best actor, and he didn't even seem very great. If I had never seen anyone in this movie before I'd think they were all terrible actors. As it is I've seen Freeman on a comedy show, on Sherlock, and in The Hobbit. I know he's a good actor because I've seen it. It's almost amazing that the director/producer could actually make everyone seem that bad.

It was like they tried to play the movie strait-funny. Funny but the characters aren't in on it (eg. Stranger than Fiction). Except they failed.

Freeman's comedic timing was the best, he was also the only one with any nuance to his tone or expression. Nothing necessarily wrong with Mandy Moore, though apparently she isn't very good at fake crying.

Also, the Americans in England made it weird.

And, breaking it up into [unrelated] chapters also made it weird. Changing the narrators between the beginning and end made it weird.

The dialogue. It was like Senfeld and Gilmore Girls had a dialogue baby.

It wasn't funny; I think I laughed twice.

Nearly every scene felt incredibly...contrived (eg. the opening. Really? What on earth was the point of the market?)

The movie was just so bad. It had a hilarious premise but it was just so bad and so badly executed I couldn't even finish watching.

If this is a chick flick I'm not a chick (maybe it's not, I'm not entirely sure what it is, but it's romantic comedy only in the Shakespearean meaning of "comedy" as a story where all turns out well in the end and the romance is a fizzle at best), and I'm still puzzling over how this movie received its R rating.

Do yourself a favor, skip this movie. It's not even brainless fun.

Secret of Me # 9

There is only one "term of endearment" 

that I can hear from anyone 

(other than my mother, who really can call me whatever she likes)

without it resulting in a glare from me. 

Not "babe" or "sexy"

not "sweetheart" or "honey"

not "sweety" or "baby"

not "sweet thang" 

No

(god, how I hate them)

There is only one thing that I can be called

that might make me smile.

That would get as good a response from me as my name;

it's "love" 

Yes, you can call me that. 

Life Tip # 9 Skillz

There is no thing 

done with great skill 

that is not also done 

with a great amount of study.

Life Tip # 8 Pearls

Don't throw your pearls before swine.

Practically, 

this means don't comment on Yahoo! articles.

Secret of me # 8

I can read two things at once

I can listen to more than one conversation

I can think many things

But I cannot listen and read

Though to a degree I can read and write, or write and listen

I can think and listen 

But I cannot think and read

I can gear shift, but multitasking is sporadic

And rarely works when the two things are both using the same

center of my brain.

As a youth I often heard my father say how people with ADHD

could multitask 

so much better than the average person

and that they needed

music or tv or radio on to help them accomplish things

But I find I cannot filter noise at all

I need silence.

I do not multitask very well

though I am very easily distracted. 

So, I don't know if he is wrong, or my doctor was wrong

or if something like ADHD manifests much differently

in women than men.

What I do know, is trying to listen to music and study merely 

results

in me watching out the window

while I sing.

Patrick Stewart is *Awesome*

This video is amazing. For every woman who has been hurt, for every woman who has been afraid, for every woman who wondered why no one rescued her, who thought she couldn't rescue herself; for every woman who bears the scars on her heart and quite possibly her body as well, this is like a healing balm.

I wanted to title this PATRICK STEWART IS A MAN!!!! but I thought that might be taken the wrong way, or the caps lock might have been off putting. What I mean is, he is a man in the best iteration of the word, he is a man as men were ought to be.

We need more men like him. We need everyone like him.

I am so proud he exists.

Life tip # 7 Vitamins

The B vitamins, from B12 to folic acid are very good for you. 

You should take them every day.

But remember to eat if you're taking a multivitamin with the metals in it. 

Otherwise you may find yourself divested of the vitamins 

in a most unpleasant manner. 

Secret of me # 7

I'm not entirely sure that I like to read. It's just a really convenient way to satisfy my eternal curiosity.

I had another one, but I forgot it as soon as it came.Oops. 

Words About Women Matter

Do you know what really gets to me? What pisses me off?

I hear it so often: "They were just words." 

Bull shit.

Words are ideas, ideas are words. Without ideas, without thoughts there would be no words. They're not just words. 

And you don't even have to mean them for them to effect you, effect others. 

Words matter.

My first semester of psychology my professor talked about an experiment, one that's been repeated over and over. Subjects watch a video of a crash; hardly a crash, a fender bender. And then they leave. When they come back they're asked to recall the crash. Oh, but they don't say "please tell me about the crash." They change the words, the bump, the crash, the collision, the accident. And the words they use to ask the question change the memories of the subjects. Some recall a mild incident, others think they saw a body. The suspected speed of the vehicles change as well. 

Just from one little word. 

So why is it, that you think it doesn't matter when a woman is called "little girl." It's just words. 

No it's not.

It's a patronizing piece of shit idea being given a voice. 

If it's not your idea, don't spread it.

Why is it that virtually every romantic story I read has the male lead considering how small, how insubstantial, the size of the heroine is. Insubstantial. That word is used. So is small, tiny, insignificant, barely there, wispy. Women are supposed to be insubstantial. And this is written by women. Do they even realize? These words will sink into your mind, they will damage you, like glass you didn't know you were eating.

A stranger calls you baby. It's not a compliment. Whether he means it or not it's part of a cultural consciousness that takes strength and maturity away from women. 

A woman calls a man a dog. She's not just mad. She's expressing a cultural belief that men are uncontrollable, out of control, irresponsible. That word; stunting a whole sex's ability (right, even) to be brave, selfless, heroic. 

You get in a fight and call her a bitch, then want to say "I didn't mean to say it." You said it, so you believed it. Don't apologize for words when you keep the belief in a dark place in your heart, ready for later. Apologize for the belief when you're ready to stop believing the words you said. 

Don't tell me they're just words.

Words matter.

Secret of me # 6

My mother

says

I'm like Merida, from Brave.

I take that as a point of pride.

Most people would also do well to know this about me

when approaching me.

Off the Subject

I just want to say that I like Benedict Cumberbatch and whoever else, Chris Pine, or Taylor Lautner, or Ryan Gosling as much as anyone else.

They're all talented good looking guys, most of them are even very talented at acting, some more than others, but that's beside the point.

I...assume I would not be upset to meet any of them. No more than I would any other talented good looking guy, would make it cool that I already knew their name before meeting them and thus wouldn't have to ask it ten times in one night just to remember.

But, and this relates to my previous  post about fangirls, I am incredibly uncomfortable when I read or see women worshiping these men. And lately, I can't look at a new photo posted on fb or read an article on someone's upcoming movie or check out an interview without the comments section being inundated with such things.

If it was girls, well, I understand a certain level of delusional idiocy. I was never one of those girls as a teen, but I was delusional and stupid about other things.

But it's not! It's grown women! Women writing things I am not going to repeat because they're just ... wrong. 

I will never ever worship any man.

As a teacher I have been on the receiving end of just a little of that undue attention that comes from being a public face and it is acutely uncomfortable.

(I know it's culture to think that if someone is willing to be seen they belong to the public, but that's not true. Everyone has a right to privacy, everyone has a right to respect, everyone has the right to be seen *first* as a person, before they're seen as a face, or an object. Frankly, no one should be seen as an object, and objectifying men doesn't make up for the wrong of women being objectified, it just makes the world doubly as messed up as it was before.)

I cringe for these men, and for the discomfort they have to endure from rabid fans, and the damaging risk it poses to their sense of self. It is not encouraging, it is not helpful. At worst, it is dangerous and destructive, at best to be tolerated and ignored.

I cringe for the women voicing these extreme and disconnected views. I can't help but wonder if they suffer from a mental illness. Whose life is so devoid of joy and meaning that they turn to a pretty face on a screen as their source of personal identity/joy/adoration/holiness?

I'm embarrassed for my sex.
I'm embarrassed on behalf of my species.

Please, stop worshiping strangers, stop lusting after men you don't even know. Like them, respect them, and leave it at that. They, you, and the world will be a better place because of it.

Review of Star Trek Into Darkness

I'll get right to the point. 

This movie kicks ass.

(warning: spoilers ahead)

I really enjoyed Star Trek Into Darkness. It has just enough cheese, and some very good acting. Both Pine and Cumberbatch, wow, they killed it. 

I didn't feel the movie was too long. Rather, I felt like it was too short. 

This movie has the thing that makes all great movies and television shows amazing; the ability to ignite people's imaginations. 

I liked the whiz and bang of the movie, though I would have liked to see a little more heart between the secondary characters.

Also, the humor was good, very good, and much needed in the midst of what could have become a very dark film. Because the truth is, Khan was always a bad guy and a good guy. The villain you love, and Cumberbatch did a great job portraying that. The humor did a great job of cutting that angst. 

Otherwise, I was surprised at the amount of emotion Spock showed at Kirks death, particularly the tears, since at this point they've only known each other for a few years. In the previous Khan movie they'd been friends for more than 15 years. So, with that in mind the tears felt premature. Also, did they do his ears differently? 

I would have liked to hear some kind parting words from Pike to Kirk, and I was surprised that Spock didn't impart them.

Aside from that, I have no complaints. 

This movie is definitely one of the few that will make it to my dvd collection. 

Secret of me # 5

I

...

am not

a fangirl.

There are plenty of people in the media who I find talented or fascinating or even attractive

but I will never ever ever follow them, learn everything about them, stalk them, scream at 

a picture or video of them, watch all their movies, or incorporate some asinine name the gist of which being I worship them into any part of my identity. 

Because

I am not a fangirl.

Life Tip # 6 Advanced Level, Advice

Never refuse to give advice when asked 

(even if you don't feel qualified)

But

Give advice sparingly

(and never without asking)

Secret of Me # 4

I don't have a television. 

Really.

I'm not a weirdo. I don't wear long skirts. I don't forgo technology.

But,

I don't "watch TV." I can't even stand to be in the same room as a TV that's on for "background noise." Or, even when it's not, for more than an hour or two.

Because it's not in the background, it's going into your head, influencing your thoughts and ideas. Unless you are constantly and consciously filtering out all the influence the TV is putting in than you're just letting someone effect your life and thoughts willy-nilly. 

What I watch I choose to watch. I watch you tube, channels I've subscribed to, things that seem fun or interesting, usually skipping or muting the ads. I watch the shows on their online channels, muting the ads as often as possible. I watch through netflix. If I don't like what I'm watching, I stop. I don't just change the channel.

I hate TV. I hate the buzzing sound it makes, I hate the words constantly being pushed into my head. I hate the constant unending assumptions that I, the viewer, need something and they want to tell me what.

I don't need anything you amoral leech. Thank you very much. 

So, I don't own a television.

I've found I'm a much much happier person overall without it.

Life Tip # 5 Never trust

Never Trust a skinny chef. 

The Cat

I think the house cat is going to miss me when I move. Generally follows me around the house or yard when I'm home, and looks for snuggles. He loves when I work in the garden because he can flop on the brick patio or in the grass and I will pet his belly. Poor guy is going to become very needy with just one person around.

Secret of me #3

I love getting dirt under my fingernails. 

Secret of me # 2

I am willing to spend upwards of $70 dollars on a good piece of make-up 

but I'm absolutely repulsed by extravagance of bags/shoes/jewelry/whatever

 by Gucci, or Prada, or Louis Vuitton or any other "high end" designer. 

Go figure. I'm only partly practical.

Secret of me # 1

I once 

went through all the mugs in my cupboard 

with a big  plastic cup filled with water and checked to see how much water each mug would hold before selecting the 2 mugs that held the most 

as my favorite coffee mugs.

;-)

Grades!

Yay! I passed Intro Clay with an A and Experimental Psychology with a B(-)!
Woo-hoo!

Life Tip #5 Computer Documents

Don't trust your computer. Always save potentially important documents in at least two places. It would be even better if you printed them. You might be killing trees, but at least there's evidence of your hard work.

Always double save.

Life Tip #4 Weight, Beauty, and Value

I see a lot of girls wondering if they're pretty enough, fearing they're not, wondering if they're thin enough, fearing their not, and the word "healthy" being thrown around all in the mix.

Let me clarify.

This realization comes after year and years of my own pain, my own confusion.

First.

You are already beautiful.

Not just beautiful enough.

You are beautiful. 

You are. Just as you.

When  you exist well, live well, pursue your best self than your very state of being is beautiful. Don't let them lie to you, don't let them trick you into thinking anything else. You're not just beautiful, you're captivating, you're precious, you're lovely. Neither your health nor your weight have anything to do with whether or not you're beautiful.

Second.

Do you eat healthy food? Do you usually get enough sleep? Do you take care of your body and try to avoid and heal injury and illness? Are you physically active? Do you exercise for enjoyment? Do you make efforts to be as emotionally healthy as you can be and to be your best self? If so, CONGRATULATIONS, you are thin enough. In fact, you're perfect. Don't let them lie to you. Health and weight are not the same. There are many many unhealthy people who are very thin. They believe the lie and it will end their lives prematurely. If you are healthy, you are healthy. This "healthy weight" shit has got to end. If  you are consistently healthy your weight will be healthy for you. This is a simple equation. It doesn't even require math.

Third.

For the record, and let me be very clear, neither your weight, nor how closely you fit into the very limited idea of commercial "beauty," nor how healthy you are or are not, nor how well you take care of your body or mind, nor how damaged your body and mind are or have been. Not how much money you have or ever will have. Not your weight. Not your political leanings. None of these things determine your value.

You exist.

You are valuable. 

You deserve dignity.

You have value.

Life is your gift, don't let anyone (not even your own mind) try to trick you into thinking it's a gift you have to give back.

You are not a commodity to be appraised and acquired. Human value is NOT a limited commodity. It never will be.

IT NEVER WILL BE.

You are valuable. You, by existing, have value.

You.

So, yeah, take that with you, and keep your head up. There's a lot of confused and angry people in the world who will try to lie to you, who have believed lies themselves.

But we know better.

Probably not the Nicest Thing

To say I have hard feelings for the TA in my psych class would be a fair understatement.

That is all.

I have changed my mind about the TA. She's letting me submit late papers because my computer ghosted them. I feel like a right bitch thinking so poorly about her when she's being so gracious to me now.

Note to self; don't judge.

New Microsoft Office 2013

Because my old computer crashed over Easter I also had to buy a new version of Microsoft Office. Since I'm a student I was lucky enough to get it for a humane price.

Got to say, I'm loving it.

One of the coolest (though probably least helpful) features is the way the little line (What is that? A cursor? A toggle?) moves across the screen. It's...different. It's totally awesome.

The entire thing seems streamlined and I'm not sure I like that aesthetically, but I can definitely see the benefit in not being distracted by a thousand things (like Photoshop, which can be overwhelming it you end up opening up several features at once). I'm still figuring it out, and luckily it seems quite similar to the previous version of Word so I don't feel like I'm having to relearn the wheel (like the new printer at work which would better serve me if I'd been giving a tutorial/course on it).

I've changed my mind about MS Word. My last two papers didn't save. There's a link to nowhere. That's two papers I have to rewrite. Apparently I no longer know how to save a document.

New Word sucks.

Life Tip #3 Online Relationship Advice

Any relationship advice found on Yahoo! is invalid. Ignore it. Good advice is "encounter each person as an individual, adapt to them individually as much as you can (and expect the same in return) without becoming dysfunctional and without any harm coming to either of you. If you cannot do this or they cannot do this, this is not the right person for you. Move on."

Statements that begin with "men are/think" or "women are/think" are, largely, incorrect. And, if not incorrect, deeply tragic.

Life Tip #2 Being Your Best Self

It has come to my attention that a lot of people are throwing out the term "be yourself" pretty liberally. That and "never change." I'd like to address that.

Now, I'm very much for being you, hopefully you can see that if you look at my other blog, but we're hitting some disparities here.

You should always strive to be your BEST SELF. Not just yourself.

And, you should change. You will change. Change is the nature of all living things. Only the dead are unchanged. Don't give up the choice of what about you will change to the forces of time and nature.

I read a "secret" (you know, that post secret thing) where a young guy says "everyone thinks I'm an asshole, but I'm not going to change, because an asshole is who I am."

Well...that sucks.

This is where our society (and apparently our teens) have gotten so confused.

Remember when you were six and you were still eating your boogies or you wouldn't let anyone clean your face or you always wet your bed? Remember? If "not changing" was the best thing you'd still have a dirty face, and still be picking your nose and licking your fingers, and still be peeing your bed. Why did you have to change? It was "natural," right? It was "you," right?

But it wasn't your best you.

You know the kid at the daycare who bites? And the one who steals the other kids' snacks? The kid who screams for hours after his mom leaves? Do we let them do this? Do we encourage little Johnny to keep biting and the kids who scream or slap him when he does to keep screaming and slapping? No, we don't. Why? Just like this self-described "asshole" in the post secret, he's just being "himself." Why then, do we tell him to apologize or encourage pro-social behavior? Why do we stop the other kids from screaming and hitting him?

Because he's not being his best self.

It's a tragedy when someone looks at themselves, and believes that by being stagnate, by holding on to qualities that hurt themselves and others, they're somehow being "true" to themselves.

When I was younger I used to have panic attacks- they sucked. I also didn't trust men. I corrected everyone's grammar. Sounds lovely, doesn't it? But I realized that though having panic attacks might be natural, it wasn't best. And while I had good reasons not to trust men, it wasn't conducive to my happiness or to that of others. And while the language was falling down around me, correcting everyone only made other people feel stupid and resentful and it didn't stop bad grammar from happening.

So, I change. I learned to be better. And it was a good thing.

So, how about this;

Don't be yourself, be your best self.

Life Tip #1 Insulting Yourself

Here's a little bit of info that I know changed my life when I learned it (really learned it).

When you insult yourself, people tend to believe you. After all, it's coming strait from the source.
Humility and self-self-flagellation are not the same thing.

Boston Bombing

Today two bombs went off during the Boston marathon. Last I knew three were dead, several critical, around 130 wounded.

My heart breaks for all those effected. My heart breaks for Boston.

This was evil. Tragic, and evil. Done by people who have given themselves to evil.

But there is also still good in the world; kindness, trustworthiness, valor. Cling to those things.

Seek justice, refuse fear, cling to virtue

and sleep in peace.

My heart and prayers go out to all tonight.

Matt Long Throwing Demo

Had the privilege of going to a demo yesterday. Master potter Matt Long was the one doing the demo. I guess he's teaching at the University of Mississippi right now, as well as doing his own work. As the only novice potter in the group I was quite enamoured by what he was doing.

He often designs his pieces using slip, and, what appears to me, strong control over a goo-like medium.

He also made a really wonky looking teapot. Not bad-wonky, he did it on purpose. Though my mind kept thinking that it wasn't so practical for actually drinking tea, but he'd said that in the beginning, that practicality for drinking tea was not his purpose in making it.

What I find amazes me about potters, is that many of them seem much more like "smiths" than artists. It's like a smith that has full use of all the artistic vocabulary. Far more than the art girls I see wandering the halls. These men (and I'm sure there are women, too) own the words, these words are part of their everyday vocabulary, and yet the physical appearance doesn't match the assumed stereotype. These men do hard work, they get dirty, they don't exist in an existential land of finery. I love it! I wonder if it's just the 3-D mediums, or only some 3-D mediums or if it's "men" taking art for themselves (and there's nothing wrong with that).

I can see how mediums like clay can really draw in men, because it requires an understanding of math and chemistry as well as a physicality that mediums like painting don't. And, I've heard before, though it was mentioned again today, that it can satisfy different interests inside of you. Pottery (and perhaps glass, and wood, and metal) are multidisciplinary.

I'm also struck by how gentle and confident their hands are, and they seem perpetually patient. I have a hard time conceiving of potters screaming.

I wonder, do men feel free from the expectation of appearance, or is it that once they've come to a point where they're regularly selling their work that whether or not they look like people expect no longer matters to them?

Matt long also said a couple things I thought were kind of awesome while he was working on the wheel (and who can talk and do that at the same time? I can't even listen to music and do pottery) so I'm going to quote him now;
"You can do whatever you want to do if you're willing to do whatever it takes to get there."

"Happiness is worth a lot, so is your health."

"Why try so hard to ascribe concept to a coffee cup when its' a damn good coffee cup and people are going to love it?"

He sells his porcelain clay if you want to buy it. It seemed very obedient but I am too new at clay to know if that was a quality of the clay or of the potter's skill.

I also enjoyed hearing him talk about his home and family and enjoying life in Mississippi. Overall it was a very good demo and really really amazing to see him work and to see the way such a small community of individuals interact.

Here are a few more pictures from the event:

Review of the $64 Tomato by William Alexander

I got this book from my local library a few days ago (in lieu of returning the other books). I may not make it through the *whole* book because I have 100+ pages of psych reading to do in the next few days but I wanted to give a review of it because the quality is evident.

Picture of the book The $64 Tomato by William
Alexader, picture from NPR

Let me explain through a personal anecdote;

Yesterday, I went to my experimental psychology class; bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to study t-tests and one way ANOVAs. The professor spent most of the class talking about what could and could not constitute observational research. It was...I'm not going to say a waste of my time, no learning is a waste of my time, but it wasn't what I was expecting or interested in. Well, I thought, now would be a perfect time to read a bit more in that Expensive Tomato book. So, I pulled out the book, laid it open on my text book like a dirty magazine I didn't want to get caught with, and began reading. At one point, I read a line and began to choke. Now, I'm a front-row student, in an auditorium class, and it would be rude, and draw lots of attention, if I were to suddenly double over laughing while the professor is pointing out the downsides of archival research. So, instead I found myself snorting and choking, trying to hold in peels of joviality, and looking for all the world like I was having problems with breathing.

Later, when I was free from the class, and the day's restraints, I went to a pub, bought a beer, and read some more where no one would mind the occasional peal of laughter.

This is a wonderful book.

The writing is superb. This is what writing should be like. And yet, it has a fun wit, a hopefulness, and a fondness for life that most literary works thoroughly lack. It definitely leans more towards A.J. Jacobs territory in (memoir)humor, which I can't complain about since I also love .A.J. Jacobs books. Laughter is medicine for the soul, laughter and information, who could ask for better than that?

I find the sexual innuendo in the book to be wonderful and tactful and tactless at the same time. Being relatively low on the sexual activity scale myself, I find I have the humor of a 13 year-old boy, so this suited me quite well.

The fondness with which he speaks of his wife and his family and his life are deeply refreshing and encouraging.

I also find the information about gardening to be fun and interesting as I'm growing a garden of my own (I may not want to know what my own "overhead" is). He describes the highs and lows of that glorious and gorry dance called "gardening" with a comforting sense of awe, determination, and self-deprication.

And the voice, though the narrator is male, is one that I relate to without fail (it could be the writing is that good, it could be that all English majors think a little alike, it could be I wouldn't have picked up the book except that it struck a fraternal cord in me).

I find myself sad that I can't just put the book on my shelf to go back and pick up and read whenever I need information or a laugh. I find myself wanting to highlight the really witty or profound parts so I can quote them on facebook.

I may not have finished the book, but I already know the quality of it; very very high.

I give it a 4.6 of 5 stars.

Burheim Forest

It's been a long day, a long week (emotionally). I could complain, but I bought a paper journal for that. I plan to burn it once it's full.

I spent some hours at Berheim forest today. Though, really, it feels more like an extensive park. Not that I'm complaining. I love it and have wanted to go back since I visited last summer for my painting class. It was just what my trite heartsickness needed. That and a healthy dose of JJ Heller music and some dripping out of that internal vitriol into the journal.

My latest art project is horrible. Horrible...might be too kind of a word. The only way it could be worse is if it were a blob of over-wet clay, or made to poorly resemble a penis. It's not done, I wasted all my clay on it. Critique is tomorrow.

Have I mentioned I'm a perfectionist?

So, when other people think "aw, shucks," my brain almost automatically goes to 'why is suicide a bad option?' (answer; "Because it always is. Any permanent solution to a temporary problem is a VERY BAD OPTION)

Now, I would call this a fit of pique, but that would be like calling a tsunami a "bit of a wave."

There's a reason I don't trust my own emotions, especially at first. This is pretty much why. I'm high affect intensity.

Get this, perfectionist and high affect intensity. Yeah, I know.

Now, 5 years ago an episode like this would have resulted in me being sucked into the miry black pit of despair for days, or giving up all together.

Now, I got to my car and cry, mope around for a few hours in the forest, and pick myself back up with a plan. That plan is to beg my professor to let me sit out of critique tomorrow and just start over, even if that means my last piece isn't fired.

There's more to the plan, but there was more to me being upset and that's just for me to know.


A picture of Bernheim from the Ky toursim website

Berheim was lovely, even without much color, or warmth. Actually, I loved the cold weather because I didn't spend the entire time terrified of ticks. Ticks are, to me, what spiders are to most. They are, literally, the stuff of my nightmares. Anything to reduce the likelihood of those disease infested blood suckers attaching their armoured bodies to me is good in my book.

That said, the grasses were lovely, the pond was lovely, the gnarled twisted trees were lovely, the ground cover was lovely. It was nice. I saw birds I don't usually see. I got to read a bit in my psychology book, which made me feel productive, which is vital to making me feel not depressed and despairing.

I got to practice being mindful and in-the-moment.

The silent peaceful moment.

It was nice. I needed it. I hope to go back soon.

The evening ended with a chat on the phone with a friend and a red ale at the local micro-brewery.

This week has been rough on my psyche. I could complain, but I won't.

Review of a Dresen File Audio Book; Changes, by Jim Butcher, read by James Marsters

When I decided that it would be a good idea to listen to an audio book while I was on the stair machine, I was pretty excited. I mean, what's there not to be stoked about when you're both being active and getting to see a story inside your head? I picked up Changes because I already love the Dresden Files.

Do you hear me? I love them. They're witty and interesting, they flow along quickly, they're shockingly believable. The author does a great job of following the rules that his universe sets out and of suspending disbelief. The voice is awesome... Yeah, I love the books. I'm also fan of James Marsters. I had a crush on him for about half a decade. I lost that crush when I realized he'd spent his time on Buffy looking like a cross between a redneck and an undead hipster, and that he has a terrible British accent (and I promptly outgrew him), but I still like to watch all the shows and movies he's in, and see convention footage and I thoroughly enjoyed him in Smallville and on Torchwood.

Sooooo, I thought that this would be a perfect marriage, Butcher and Marsters.

I was wrong.

I squealed in glee to hear "sexy voice" voicing Harry Dresden...until I realized the voice didn't change. It...it didn't change. This, this was not a dramatic reading. This was a strait reading. A boring boring strait reading of an awesome text.

By chapter three I was starting to screech "What?! Come on man! Use those acting chops!" as I gasped out an inconsistent stucco on the stair machine.

By chapter 4 I gave up. I couldn't do it. Marsters' reading had successfully reduced a series that mesmerises me into something that could put me to sleep. I put the CD back in its case (very glad, now, that I'd never given into that whim and spent money on buying a Marsters' read Dresden book) and took it back to the library.

Just because we're grown ups doesn't mean we don't appreciate a good dramatic reading of a story. If we didn't the Lord of the Rings movies wouldn't be so very popular.

Overall, I give the reading a 2 out of 5 stars. It could have been blander, it could have been read at a really inconsistent pace, which it wasn't. But, I didn't like it, and didn't enjoy it. Hard core Marsters' fans will love it. I think most everyone else will be a bit disappointed. Ah well. You win some you lose some.

The book itself gets a 4.2 out of 5 stars. That's only because there are some truly life changing books out there, but this one is still pretty awesome.

Review for Burning Alive by Shannon K. Butcher

Yes, I read a romance novel. So sue me. I spent an hour perusing books in the library trying to find one where the plot didn't make me snort and a few pages I could actually make it through.

The positives;
It's an ambitiously detailed story. No pwp here.
The dialogue is better than the dialogue of the other romance novels I'd been perusing.
It's not pwp.
The "voices" of the characters are reasonably consistent.

The negatives:

Let's start with the cover. The cover above is the one on the book I read. It is a horrible photomanip. What are the spikes on his arms? Oh, wait, are those supposed to be the branches of the tree that does down only one side of his body? And his hair is supposed to be either wavy or curly (can't remember) but it's not that mullet. Also, he's supposed to have a silver choker on through most of the book. Did we forget that super important part?

The book. Okay, I understand the need for suspended disbelief, I really do, but you have to establish the rules of your world, and do it as fast as possible. I feel as if the author said "rules, I don't need no stinking rules!" and the story really suffers for it.
We start off with a character who seems like she could be interesting, I mean, she's been having these terrible dreams about being burnt alive and this dude looking on and laughing about it and then there's the dude. Cue freaking out. Reasonably so. Except, the guy comes over, and he and his friends manhandle her elderly friend (who's name...Miss Mable I think, got really old after about the 20th time it was said. She's not a Miss, she's 80, and we don't live in the 70's. I mean, apparently the main character didn't even know the woman's first name, which is lame for a caregiver) and her "cool" friend.

Also, the "panic attacks" that she kept experiencing were not at all like panic attacks as I know them, which always pisses me off, when books project panic attacks in ways that are not real to life. First of all, it's not just about breathing, it's about this overwhelming FEAR response, and eventually the fear of the fear. It's an ugly fear cycle that sucks you down in some of kind vicious black undercurrent. I was also bothered because having a panic disorder and being a coward are not the same thing, and yet, in this book, they seemed to be.

Trust and sexual tension didn't build too fast, but it was still unbelievable. The lack of voicing concerns even when the situation gave the opportunity for it was also irritating. The love interest (Blane?) was irritating both in his aggression, his conviction to leave the heroine (I may have misspelled that word) completely in the dark, and then tell her everything, and then mind-f*** her.

The heroine (again, possibly misspelled) was also bothersome in that she didn't...think like a normal person. There was just a lot (like the vampires/witches) that wasn't explained. A lot that presumed on the reader having extensive supernatural knowledge. And, then, I had this moment where the protagonist (there I can spell that word) was all like "I'm psychic? I didn't know it! I mean, that can't be possible, I've only been having these visions for years which I was totally sure were real and I'm being chased by fire, and man, I saw you coming, like, two years before I met you. But I can't be psychic. I just know the phone is going to ring sometimes." And then, "Woah! I can lift a big rock! I haz soopurpowrz!" It was such a disgustingly ...marrysue? moment that I almost put down the book. If the author's bid, and I'm sure it was, was to give the readers a moment where they thought they could be the protagonist, that was it. She chose something that almost everyone experiences and said it was really special, except the effort was really transparent and so it felt like a gimmick.

The mythology was troublesome. It was like the author tried to throw an entire book series' worth of mythology at us in one book. The bit about "they're what you call demons" was irritating. If they are what we call demons, call them demons, don't give them a new name. If they're like what we call demons but different, or our understanding of them is fundamentally flawed, explain. Each chapter seemed to add new mythology without explaining, or with barely an explanation of, the old. The stuff about breeding the protagonist stank of a number of other mythos, and felt tagged on. The main characters themselves seemed to be a mix of Feehan's Carpathians and another author I've read but am too tired to recall, some kind of eternal guardian... Anyway, it's not that taking things from leaders in the genre is bad, it's not, but it has to feel like your own work, or the nod to the inspiration has to be obvious.

I stopped reading after the friend committed suicide, which was already probably 50 pages later than I should have. The sex scene was not sexy. The bathroom scene was kind of sexy but totally different than all the other sexual tension scenes.

This brings me to another point. The voices were fairly consistent but the characters themselves were not. The male protagonist especially often changed gears or attitudes without so much as a by your leave to the readers. Not cool. And, for a guy who is really really really old, he has pretty modern (read; selfish and kinky) ideas about sex.

I never finished the book, I wasn't going to waste my time on another 100 pages when more than 200 hadn't been enough to keep me reading.

I really wanted this to be a good book. But it wasn't.
If I was giving it a rating it would get a 2.5 of 5 stars. It could have been worse.

New Computer and Some New Goals

So, my other computer died on the day I got this new computer. That is, yesterday. So, I have a new doorstop and a new laptop.

I have some goals for this new computer. First, I want to keep it as pristine as possible. Only the most neccessary programs (eg, Word, iTunes, my GPS updater, minesweeper...). I'm going to seriously reconsider whether I should do any of the "fixing" updates that Windows was always doing on my
old computer. I think it may just slow things down. I also want to continue to back everything up and/or save everything on my external hard drive.

Also,  I don't want to go to Yahoo on this computer. I don't want it in my computer history. I don't want it anywhere. It's a trash site. It's like the Enquirer of online sites. Except it's taken seriously. It's like US Weekly, the Enquirer, and the New York Times had a disgusting mutant internet baby. That baby is Yahoo.

And, the Yahoo comments section mostly makes me lose my hope in humanity. I gave up television because it was a negative and time-sucking influence on me. I plan to do the same with Yahoo.

My other goal is to go to the store and buy a real physical journal. One just for journaling, not writing story ideas or taking notes or writing directions or shoping lists, though those are all good things. That's because I want to be free to write non-incriminating stuff on this blog and I find it very hard to only write some things. Like speaking, I want to write everything. Everything is going to come out at some point, so I have to filter where certain things go. And, since blogger doesn't let me limit my viewers (that I know of, tell me if I can), and I'm too lazy to write on three blogs (also, can't even remember the last time I wrote on LiveJournal; got tired of everyone talking about the communities and having no idea how to get into the "in" groups), this will be perfect. I can write all the angsty stuff on paper, aka secret, when I'm in the angsty moment, and then I can write the less angsty stuff here, where the world will read it. Yay for solutions!

Easter '13

Happy Easter everyone.
Easter is definitely my favorite holiday. I love the preparation. 40+ days of fasting culminates in a lot of excitement about Easter!

Should I ever have the opportunity to celebrate Easter in my own fashion, rather than following my parents' interestes, I will make it into an all day event. Palm Sunday will be celebrated. Good Friday will not be skipped. The meal will be savory and wonderful, full of variety. There will be eggs painted. I will find other activities, too. Music will play in the background. It will be awesome.

A celebration befitting the day we commemorate what it is that makes Christianity special.

____________________________________________________________________________

The day itself was very nice. I managed to get to the 9:15 service (though, sadly, I missed the music) and sat with my community group. I like sitting with them, and where, before, I thought I would never want to sit with a group or participate in church as a social event, I can definitely say that it feels nice to sit with and worship with people who I know, and like, and trust.

The sermon was very good. And, it was then that I realized whe music and sermon were short; baptistms!

Wow, to be baptised on Easter. Intense.

Then to the parents for supper (dinner? lunch? the afternoon meal?) and later to home.

I...got in!

Today I found out that I was accepted to the Art Therapy Graduate program at George Washington University. I had been trying to get a hold of them. Apparently, they'd been trying to get a hold of me, too. I was told that my UofL email wasn't working (why do I feel like that has happened before? but I even looked it up on the UofL system to double check...).

Well, I finally got that email, and they accepted me!

Of course, I'm saying yes.

Guess I'll be in D.C. sometime soon.

I can't wait to become an art therapist.

I'm definitely finding I need to shift my plans. Since I hadn't heard back from them I'd, reasonably, started to make plans in my mind for attending EVMS. I imagined what kind of housing I could have, looked up where grocery stores were and how to get to the beach, considered the likelihood of dating a bright eyed doctor. Now I get to make new plans, have new ideas.

In the end I was accepted by 5 schools, which is shocking to me, even now. Pleasant, but shocking.

I am grateful that I have learned to try my best and not give up, even if I have not yet learned to expect a positive outcomes from it. I'm glad I tried, I'm glad I didn't give up.

I feel a bit light headed. Nervous and excited to start this new turn in the path of my life.

_____________________________

For the record: both EVMS and GWU appear to be great schools. Both have excellent teachers and a good history and both are well connected with the local military. Both appear to have great internships. I was impressed with all the professors and thought they all asked very good very challenging questions. I think, however; that GWU (and DC, by extension) seemed...really nice. I left kind of feeling like "yeah, I could go here. I could live here."  So, while both schools seemed very nice (and I want to give a shout out to Springfield, which also seemed quite nice), and of a very high quality, and I don't want anyone to think that one is better, I just think D.C. is probably better for me.

Why I don't Tell People my Age

Really, I don't care about how old I am. I don't care about how old I look. This may be because I don't look older than I am, it may not. That being said, I don't have a problem with my age, or telling people, but I don't offer that information without being asked.

Today was an example of why. My students asked me if I had kids. Nope. How old was I? 29. Do I have a husband? Nope. No husband. Will I be married next year? Nope, no boyfriend. Why?!

They asked why.

I shrugged and said "No one has asked."

An older gentleman in my class took off his class ring and offered it to me. I laughed. Everyone laughed.

I hate giving my age. Because when you're 29 and single people want to know why. And if I had an answer to that which didn't rip out my heart with a spoon, I would give it.

And change it.

Ah well. 30, you're just around the bend, and then people will hear my age and think I must be a freak that no one married me. So, I think I'll just enjoy 29 while I have it.

Repeat of Yesterday

Yes, I am, in fact, coming to the conclusion that Blogger is for babies. Or, families, rather. So, where do people who want to blog about not babies go? I suppose I will just continue to post here. Maybe I will find myself misinformed. Maybe there are a lot of single ladies posting about not babies and blogger has just ignorantly decided to only show me family blogs every time I hit that "next blog" button.

Ah well.

Blogger is for Babies?

Did I miss something? Is Blogger for couples and families? Because, that's all I came across when hitting the "next blog" button, and mostly it was families with babies, parenting blogs, and parents' blogs. So...what's up?

I'm tempted to think this is part of the ongoing world-wide conspiracy to make me feel like the only human female who is both single and without children.

Luckily, I'm not that paranoid. ;-)

Maybe.

Paranoia

Well, I'm not doing what I should be doing. I have two exams to do online. Not doing either of them. instead I'm on facebook, and my friends have clearly caught the paranoia bug. I feel that just as much as the next person, I do not trust the govt. or mega-corporations, or television, but when people start talkinng about new world orders I just feel a massive instinct to take a big step back from them. It could have to do with me not being comfortable discussing things with no solution. I don't want to talk about how horrible things are without talking about a way to make them better. Just bemoaning our state does nothing. How about we live well, do our best to live within our means (or accept the indentured-servitude of not living within our means), serve others, be intelligent and kind, and the rest of the world can burn. But frankly, if we live like that, it probably won't.

Adendem; She was talking about some imminent Tribulation/End of the World stuff. Should have known. I just, should have known and said nothing, like every other intelligent person did.

Dreams for Daughters

Right now I am single...

But I hope that one day I have a daughter.

I hope I have a daughter so I can teach her how lovely it is to love God. I hope I have a daughter so I can teach her that the love of a man is wonderful but loving the Father lasts forever. I hope I have a daughter so I can teach her that there is vanity in all the beautiful wonderful things of this life, except for loving God. I hope I have a daughter so when the world tells her she must be more and must be less and must have a man who feels strongly for her in order to be complete, when her friends run after flags in the wind and none of the texts or videos or advertisements she sees make her any happier for seeing them, when she's not sure who she is and just wants to be loved, that I can teach her that she is whole and complete and loved and lovely above all else in God and that when she puts him first she won't have to be desperate for the things of this world because every good thing she experiences will just be icing on the cake.



I hope I have a daughter.

And if I never do, I hope I live like she's learning from me anyway.

Good News

Well, since late December my life has been very hectic. I applied to nine graduate schools and was invited to interview at all nine. I participated in six interviews. I've been accepted for admission to four and declined for admission by one, and I'm still waiting on one. All this since, roughly, Christmas. I've also had Uni classes during the day, teaching classes in the evening, and this month an online class to boot, as well as everyday things. My life has been pretty much non-stop. Today is the first free day I've had in a month, where there was something I didn't have to do. I'm happy and overwhelmed. I'm...actually doing this. I'm more surprised than I should be, but a big part of me thought that trying my hardest and putting my best foot forward wasn't going to be good enough. I think I may have been wrong. ~.^