So, Paul Newman had a birthday a few days ago - he's now a ripe 83 years old. Becca has the uncanny ability to guess a celebrity's age dead-on, without thinking, so I asked her how old she thought he was. What'd she say? "Who's Paul Newman?" What?! Have we reached a point in society where today's generation does not know who Paul Newman is? I mean, come on! "It seems what we have here is a failure to communicate..." Cool Hand Luke, Paul Newman - he's a classic! But apparently a now-obscure classic. As I was tutoring today, we came across the subject of Newman Projections, and I asked my group what a Newman projection was. I got some blank stares, so I said, "I'm guessing it has nothing to do with the actor Paul Newman..." More blank stares. They didn't know who he was either. What is wrong with today's generation? Rent the movie Long Hot Summer, starring Paul Newman, and he'll make you forget Johnny Depp exists (temporarily, at least).
On a related note, I'm considering filing for separation from Fred. You may not have met Fred, but let me tell you, he's really been pissing me off lately. First of all, I thought he was called George, but no, it's Fred. Secondly, he's just been really lazy, hardly putting any effort into anything at all, and it's not like he's got a lot to do anyway. Thirdly, he's been giving me lip, being quite snarky, and I don't like it. OK, it's been going on for a while now, but it started out simply enough. I've known for maybe the past couple of months that when you go to print something, you have the option of printing a fast normal copy or a fast draft copy, which of course saves ink, and money. So that's what I've been doing. It wasn't a big deal last semester - I barely printed anything out then. But this semester, I have to print out three long lectures a week and poetry handouts and other miscellanea. To save paper as well as ink, I print on both sides. This is where Fred has been pissing me off. He prints the odd pages off without a problem, but when I flip them and ask him to print the even pages, he does a half-ass job. The first few pages come out fine, but then he grabs a whole bunch and spits them out, printing a fraction of a page on each sheet, and then he tells me I'm out of paper. This has happened every time I've had to print something in the past three weeks, and I'm tired of it. Fred's slacking off on his job, and I don't like it. If he does it again, I will file for separation to see if that jars him out of his belligerence. I hope so. I don't want to have to buy another printer.
29 January 2008
Frustrations
27 January 2008
Story Stats
Chapters: 13 , Words: 35,235, Reviews: 58, Hits: 3803
I think this last chapter was my favorite one; I still can't believe I wrote a whole conversation about ramen noodles!
26 January 2008
So I tried my hands at writing a limerick...
And this is what I got:
Escoja
There once was a girl who couldn't choose
Which language she wanted to use.
Instead of a decision
She made it her mission
To use indecision as her muse.
Solution:
Había una niña que amaba
La lengua español y la tomaba
Mais Aujourd'hui elle veut
Parler le français surtout
Y mañana no sé que ella hablará.
This just in:
There once was a girl with some time
Which she spent on a bilingual rhyme
She forced it a bit
To make it all fit
And she hopes you forgive her that crime.
23 January 2008
Which Way?
Two strangers crossed paths in the street.
The girl was on her way to somewhere new,
The boy was lost, so it was fortunate they should meet.
Said the boy to the girl, address in hand,
“Do you know how to get from here to there?”
Said the girl to the boy, after reading the address,
“I do know how to get from here to there.”
She double-checked the address
And drew a map in her head.
When the path was complete,
She turned to the boy and said,
“You continue up Street A,
And then turn onto Street B-”
“Pardon me,” interrupted the boy,
“But which way onto Street B?”
‘Oh, dear,’ thought she, ‘which way indeed?’
She worried her lip; the question was such a bother.
Was it in the direction of the hand she wrote with,
Or was it, in fact, in the other?
Closing her eyes, she made the turn in her mind.
Then she opened her eyes and looked down at her hands:
It was in the direction of the one she wrote with,
And she finally took a stand.
“You turn right onto Street B,
And pass Diner 1, Gas Station 2, and Hotel 3.
When you come to the third light,
You have to make a turn onto Street C-”
“Which way onto Street C?”
Came the exasperated query.
She hesitated to answer, even though
She knew she was making him weary.
Again she pictured herself taking that path,
Letting her hands turn an imaginary wheel.
It was in the direction of the hand she didn’t write with,
Although she still couldn’t name it at will.
Embarrassed, she turned to her side
And, on both hands, extended her first finger and thumb.
It was in the direction of the one that made the shape of an ‘L,”
And at length she was able to answer, although she felt quite dumb.
“You turn left onto Street C,
And continue past Theater 4.
Once you pass that building,
Your destination will be on your...”
Once more she paused,
Confusion paining her sight.
“It will be on your left. Wait, no!
Yes. No! It will be on your right.”
Her stumbling directions complete,
He thanked her for her time,
And then presumably went off to find
Someone with reason, and not just rhyme.
When he was gone,
She let her frustration show.
Why it was so hard for her,
She just didn’t know.
Shrugging it off, she continued on her way.
Her eyes on her feet and the ground below,
She didn’t notice it until she was already there:
A fork in the road; now which way did she go?
She fretted for a moment, and then a light came on overhead.
Thrusting a hand into her pocket, she pulled out some paper and read:
“At the fork in the road, turn left; the garden is just out of sight.”
Relieved, she tucked the paper way, and promptly turned right.
Story Stats
Chapters: 11, Words: 26,214, Reviews: 42, Hits: 3112.
It seems the only work I'm getting done is the fun stuff. =D
22 January 2008
Death of a Star, In More Ways Than One
I can't believe that Heath Ledger has passed away. I can't get the thought to stick in my head, or when it does, I feel it like a personal bereavement. And that's just crazy because I never met the man, I never knew him. I spent all four years of high school denying that I thought he was cute, because it would have been oh-so-clichéd to like the then-current teenage heartthrob, although I had a very, very tough time denying it because of the 'A Knight's Tale' poster I had taped to my ceiling, the very first poster I ever put up. I can't believe he's gone. He was only 28. 28! That's barely seven years older than me. I just saw him in the newly-released full-length trailer for the Dark Knight, the Batman Begins sequel where he plays the joker. Played the joker; past tense. This must be what it was like when James Dean died; a young actor, a good actor, working steadily to his prime, full of the promise of films to come, more Oscar nods, maybe even an Oscar, and now he's gone. I can't even imagine the loss his ex-fiancé and his daughter feel. Mon dieu! I don't know why this seems so particular, but it is. Here's to Heath Ledger.
Take a look through my eyes...
Here are some of my random observations, insights, and experiences from over the weekend.
Text Messaging Conversation: Saturday, 01/19/08
Darren:
Darren: We got stuck behind McCain in traffic at our voting precinct.
Jessica: Who would you vote for?
Darren: Hillary Clinton is my top choice at the moment.
Jessica: (no text)
Darren: Does that mean I should vote for Obama instead?
Jessica: Dad told me to take a picture of his ass and send it in response, butt I thought I would spare you.
Observation by Jessica, while riding back to Raleigh to see the NCSU Basketball game:
There's a car being towed away on the other side of the road. Why do they call it being towed? Why did they pick that particular appendage? Why the "toes?" Why didn't they pick the fingers? They grip things better. Although I guess it sounds better when you say "I got towed," as opposed to ...something else.
While watching Scrubs with Becca:
On the television, Elliot and Turk are working on a medical report, getting it ready for publication. Turk has to split to spend time with Carla, and Elliot tells him to go ahead and go, she'd work on it that night. As soon as Turk leaves, Dr. Todd pops up and, after a long string of sexual innuendos, says that Turk picked the geekiest medical intern to do his work for him. Elliot indignantly says that she isn't a geek (or a nerd, I forget the actual term). Dr. Todd says oh yeah, what's that thing on your finger? He points to a rubber, thimble-like thing on Elliot's middle finger. She says, somewhat defensively, that it helps her turn the pages, her voice dropping in volume as she realizes how much of a geek she actually is.
As if the scene weren't funny enough, Becca gets all excited and says, "That would be so cool! I want one!" Is Becca a geek? I rest my case. Not that being a geek is a bad thing. It's just not necessarily a good thing.
While watching the Packers-Giants Football Game on Sunday, my musings:
Have you ever noticed how many double entendres there are in Football? Personally, I can't hear the term "tight end," without laughing. I laugh harder if it's called the "tight end position." I laugh even harder if the player in that position is described as keeping a very close or closed tight end. I mean, come on! Pick a better term, people! Also, when Dad played football, he played tight end. After knowing that, I never miss an opportunity to make a crack about tight ends.
20 January 2008
18 January 2008
Photograph Poem
Alone you stand,
Artistry’s perfection,
Clad in searing brilliance.
You amaze the sight.
You are stone made into silk.
You are fire flowing smooth as milk.
Do you remember who it was that gave you life,
Who it was that touched brush to blazing palette
And painted you alive with fire, a mirror of the red sunset?
Born of a shallow groove, or perhaps a flickering stream,
Was it the wind that hollowed you, emptying you grain-by-grain?
Was water your sculptor, carving away your being in a flood of rain?
How long have you endured the gnawing winds in stony silence?
How long have you born time’s constant wear?
How much of you was there that now isn’t there?
In this life we say that beauty is only skin deep, that it’s what’s inside that counts.
But for you, you emptiness born of a wayward stream and an unassuming cleft,
You to whom nothing inside remains; for you, beauty is all you’ve got left.
Is it enough?
15 January 2008
Class Ranking, Finally!
| Class Rank effective at the end of FALL '07 Semester | |
|---|---|
| Rank in Class: | 1 OF 7568 |
| Rank in School/College: | 1 OF 1450 |
| Rank in Dept: | 1 OF 435 |
14 January 2008
I am from me
For my creative writing class, our first in-class assignment was to write a "I am from" poem. My teacher read us several examples that blew my mind away with their complexity and thought. Then she said to take the next seventeen minutes and write one of our own. Here's what I wrote:
I am from myself, in myself
I am two letters, three, seven
Where is but one answer, but yet two
I could say Virginia, born on an old Naval Base
I could say North Carolina, a town between here and the sea
And a third is here, but where is one question
Who I am from is easy: my parents,
Their parents, and theirs before them
Interesting Patrias like...America, Puerto Rico, Cuba, Corsica
Names made of letters a world wide
What I am from is hard: carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, sulfur
Love, joy, togetherness, family
A collection of books spanning Austen to Rowling
Writing, drawing, singing, painting, learning, speaking
A class before this one
A day before today
The moment before now; now too
All this I am from, and still so much more
I am from movies with puppets, Judy Garland, Johnny Depp
I am from a room with no walls, only posters and color
I am from the dust of before, of life lived long ago,
I am from collecting eggs, feeding chickens, hungry goats, cats, dogs, fish
I am from fear, desperation, panic, gloom
I am from courage, calm and light
All this I am from, and one thing is constant:
I am.
Not my best, you can see. It doesn't even rhyme! Hopefully my next work will be better.
Story Stats Part Deux
So, I spent most of last night and a good part of this morning finishing my ninth chapter, and man, am I tired. Memo to self: try to get more than three and a half hours' sleep tonight. In all fairness to me, though, I did try to get five hours sleep, but I just couldn't fall asleep in time. I posted my 9th chapter last night (this morning, circa 4AM), and I've had two very good reviews thus far. I've decided that I'll post my story statistics here after every new chapter because, well, it makes me feel really, really good about myself. So, here they are, the stats after chapter 9:
Words: 18,819 Chapters: 9, Reviews: 31, Hits: 2400
Oh, and before I forget, I have to send my congratulations to Johnny Depp for winning the Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Musical or Comedy.
Make this a bumper sticker
Breeding Ignorance Leads to Breeding: Stop Abstinence-only Sex Education.
(That's my opinion, anyway; I wrote it)
13 January 2008
Pictures Pictures Pictures
It wasn't exactly necessary to write that three times, but that's what I've got: Pictures. Christmas, New Years' Eve, and the random times in between. They're presented in no particular order and you can see them here:
(it makes more sense if you click the 'reverse order' icon at the bottom right)
A Picturesque Poem
So, for my Creative Writing course, I have to bring in a photo that inspires me - and I'll be writing a poem about it in class. I've narrowed down my choices to these fourteen, but I can't decide which one I like best. They all inspire me, speak to me, make me feel both calmed and energetic. Which should I choose???
12 January 2008
3:10 to Yuma
De facto amendment: I've just returned from watching this film again, and I have to withdraw most of what I said below. This film is really good: good acting, good story, even semi-good accents. I'll be buying it when it comes out.
So I've just got back from watching 3:10 to Yuma and I have to say it's not half-bad. It's about three-quarters bad. Seriously, if they're going to make a western, at the very least they should assume that the audience has seen a western before and has a bit more common sense than the entire cast of the film, except for the stereotypical, out-for-redemption protagonist and the bad-but-tender-hearted antagonist. 
I mean, seriously, can anything be more clichéd? How about the scene where someone gets shot in the belly and then told that they're not going to die? Hello?! Yes, I realized that a bullet wound to the abdomen is not necessarily fatal, but if you take into account the almost certainty of infection, not to mention ruptured internal organs, I think you could call that scene more than a tad unbelievable. Throw into the mix your standard posse of black-hearted bad guys, a willful and impetuous kid just ate up with dumb-ass, and a very accommodating bar-mistress, and you've got your typical western. OK, maybe not so typical. It's not everyday that an American Western stars a New Zealander (or Australian, depending on your source) and a Welshman in the lead roles. Not that I'm complaining. Far from it, actually. Christian Bale is one of my favorite actors, and I don't give a damn what my oldest brother TJ says about him, I think he's great. The only reason he's not on my wall of fame right now is that I respect him too much (not that I don't respect the men on my wall; it's a very complicated process that I really can't explain now). Let me just say that my ideal man is ...stocky. Stocky in the sense that he's muscular, but not defined; big, but not huge. I don't go for the thin-and-lean types. And if anyone has anything to say about Johnny Depp or Sean Bean, zip it. I don't want to hear it. One of the main reasons I loved The Holiday so much was because it starred Jack Black, who I think is perfect, when he's not being an irritating idiot (when his role doesn't call for him to be an irritating idiot). Christian Bale, when he's not dieting himself into oblivion, is a big guy - tall, muscular, big, and very gorgeous. And at the moment, my heart beats only for Russell Crowe. 
He's my ideal man, aside from the whole history of violence thing (his RAP sheet, not the movie starring Viggo Mortensen). He's not too tall, but he's muscular, almost bear-like in some films, usually scruffy, very masculine, and he's got the accent, or maybe it's just his voice, that works for me too. I have to say that the movie picked up at the end, and surprised me - pleasantly. It also features one of my favorite comedic actors, Alan Tudyk, who you might have seen in A Knight's Tale (he was the redhead, and he was the voice of the robot in I, Robot). And, weirdly enough, it has Luke Wilson, for about five minutes. And Russell Crowe's line about a skinny woman being acceptable as long as she had green eyes, well, that was icing on the cake. The cake too. So, all-in-all, not a bad movie, but if you're like me, see it by yourself or you'll end up annoying everyone around you with you repetitive comments, such as "Bull," "Bull Sh*t," and "Shoot the f*cking bastard!" That last one wasn't repeated a whole lot, but it was necessary. I do have one recommendation: they should change the title to 3:10 to Yummy.
10 January 2008
08 January 2008
The Inevitable End
It's here. Vacation is over. I shouldn't be complaining, as I know many many (and another many) people didn't have as long a vacation as I did, not even close. So, I'll just say it's over. There. It's done. Classes start tomorrow, and I am excited...partially. My first class is French II; that will be good. My second class is the one I am most excited about: creative writing. On a site note, I uploaded the seventh chapter of my story (sorry, no link here, but there might be one elsewhere). My story is now over ten thousand words long! Anyway, I'll be writing a bit more tonight, but back to my schedule. After creative writing, I have Biotechnology, and I've mixed emotions. I like learning about biology and biotechnology, but I'm rubbish at actually doing any of it. And the lab is five hours long. That could have something to do with my ambivalent mood. Then I'm done for the day. Wow, that doesn't sound so bad.
But let me tell you about today. At five or so, I went down to the 24-hour desk to retrieve a package (which yielded my Full Monty soundtrack - awesome music, although now I'm listening to Josh Groban's Noel, which, yes, is Christmas music, but I never tire of Christmas music. Later I'll listen to my peter pan soundtrack, and if you want a snippet of that, click here, but you'll have to skip to the end, that's where the good stuff is). The woman behind the counter was just handing me the package and returning my student ID when the lights went out. Completely out. A generator kicked in a moment later, providing dim safety illumination. Returning to my room, I discovered Becca on her phone, in the dark. The poor people across the hall were moving in! Too bad it happened just after the sun set. The power outage was pretty widespread - all of West Campus (that's me), and parts of central campus, and I think Wolf Village too. Anyway, this led to a change in plans, as you might have guessed. Rebecca and I joined her friends on a walk to Mission Valley for dinner, and then a movie. Most of them went to see Charlie Wilson's War, but I really didn't want to see that, and National Treasure was already playing, so I went and saw I Am Legend.
I Am Legend was good. It affirmed how I really, really don't like watching creepy or suspenseful, thrilling films in a dark theater by myself, or just generally by myself. No thank you. It gave me the creeps, but I watched it. Most of it. I confess I did liberally cover my eyes. I even teared up. Twice. Will Smith acted wonderfully, as usual. He's one of my favorite actors, and he's quite hot too, so that adds to his and this movie's appeal. And that's all I really have to say about that.
As you might have guessed, the power was turned back on. Apparently a transformer (not the toy) blew and that caused some pretty widespread power outages. But, they fixed it, and the lights are back.
07 January 2008
Atonement, ...almost
So, if you remember, or maybe you don't, that I wrote a rather heated post about how I didn't think Atonement would be coming to any theater within a thousand-mile radius. Imagine my surprise when my friend texts me on Friday and says it was playing at a theater near campus, when did I want to go? So, we set the time - today, the 4:10 showing, and she picks me and Rebecca up and we ride over to Cary. We get there, meet her friend, find our seats, and watch the film. First of all, I have to say that the acting was superb. Really really good. 
I can't tell who I want to win the best actor golden globe and Oscar more: Johnny Depp, or James McAvoy (he's the guy in Atonement). Really, really good acting. Keira Knightley is dazzling, as usual, and gives a stellar performance. The movie itself is good - one minute it makes you laugh in amazement, and the next you're on the edge of your seat waiting to see what happens next. It's about this thirteen-year-old girl, Briony Tallis, who sees something between her older sister Cecilia (played by the stunning Keira Knightley), and the Cambridge graduate - family-hired gardener Robbie (played by James McAvoy). Young Briony doesn't know how to interpret what she saw, and ends up telling a horrible lie that sends Robbie, full of the passion of young love and the promise of becoming a doctor, to prison. The movie follows Briony, Cecilia, and Robbie as Briony seeks her Atonement.
Does she get it? I can't say. I really can't. Know why? I'll tell you. Five minutes before the conclusion of the film, the fire alarm in the theater went off. There wasn't a fire, but the film shut off immediately and the house lights came on. Someone came and spoke to us, told up that they'd get the film up and running momentarily, and here was a free movie pass for our trouble. That was good. Then about fifteen minutes later, someone else comes back and says that they can't get the system back up, they won't be able to finish showing our film, but here's another free pass and we're welcome to get a refund for out ticket at the box office. So, two free passes and a refunded ticket later, we started polling people, seeing if anyone knew how our movie ended. No one did. So, we went over to Barnes and Nobles and found the book. We learned how the story ended, kind of. The author writes in a very ambiguous and misleading manner, so it's hard to tell what really happened. I eventually figured out what happened and now can only begrudge the last five minutes of film I missed and not the end of the plot. I did buy the book, because the movie was so good, and I'll start reading that soon. Would it be worth it to go back and watch the first two hours of the film again, just to see the last five minutes? Maybe. Heck, I have a free pass, why not? We'll see. You should go see it, if you can. It's a really really good movie. I have to own it when it comes out on DVD, it's that good.
06 January 2008
Funny, but NO.
So, we're back in Raleigh. I have a headache and my stomach is all discombobulated, but other than that things are OK. I'll be posting pictures shortly, but for now, I have to tell you this hilarious episode that just occurred. Rebecca was sitting on her bed, opening a new bottle of lotion. She was trying to get some out to smooth over her hands, but the pump was empty. So, she's pumping and pumping and nothing's happening. As if the spectacle wasn't funny enough, watching her pumping away furiously, she says, "It won't come!" At my look and my laugh, she realized the double meaning of her words. Cottoning on to the joke, she says, "Maybe if I'm gentle with it..." So, she stops wailing away at the pump and gives a smooth, gentle touch, and guess what: It came.
Sorry, I know that's gross, but it was so funny at the time!
05 January 2008
Sweeney Todd
02 January 2008
Stats
So far the story I posted on FanFiction.net has received 1271 hits! They count chapters individually, so the real number is closer to 200, but out of those 200 people, 21 have added my story to their alerts lists, meaning they receive an alert when I update. How cool is that!?!
01 January 2008
Happy New Year!
It was, it is, it will be. How's that for all-inclusive? We spent yesterday getting the house cleaned up and then making food for the late-night festivities. I stood out of the way (I'm really good at that). When most everything was ready, we got cleaned up, I layed out all of the games we could play (Balderdash was the most prominent), and then we waited for our guests to arrive. We didn't have to wait long, as TJ, Susan, and Mrs. Goad arrived within a few minutes. We sat around the table, talking for a bit, and then we adjourned to the garage to play ping pong. TJ versus Susan, TJ winning at 21 to 19. Then Mom versus Dad, with Dad winning with 21 to 19. I sense a pattern. Then Becca versus me, with Becca winning 21 to a score that wasn't 19. We played a few more rounds, and I got my camera out, catching some really cool action shots with the ping pong ball in mid-air and the players in strategic poses. Then I had to play again. I played against Susan and, surprisingly, I won, but I think she was just being nice. After that, it was time to go back in and play Apples to Apples. Dad won five rounds right off the bat, then TJ, then Rob. I was the last person to score anything, and I came in second to last place. (Did you hear that, Kim?) Dad won. Then we played imagine if, just for fun, no scoring. TJ was ready to fall asleep, so we went back and played ping pong to wake him up and to warm up, and to kill time because we had maybe half and hour until midnight. We tried to play a real game, Becca and Me against Susan and TJ, but within six or seven volleys, our game disintegrated into a wild frenzy determined to keep not one, but two ping pong balls moving across the table. That was fun! Then back inside, with less than ten minutes to midnight, we broke out the Champagne and sparkling cider, gathered round the TV and drank in the new year. We popped poppers, sending brightly covered streamers everywhere in the haze of popper-smoke. Then we talked for a bit, and then our guests went home. I went out to play with the dogs (it was their new year too!), and when I came back inside, everyone had gone to bed. There was an unfinished bottle of Champagne on the counter, so I asked Mom and Dad what I should do with it. They said I could cork it and put it in the fridge or I could drink it. Dad said that the unopened bottles of Champagne didn't count as leftovers; I couldn't finish them. As if. So, as I'm sitting on the couch, watching BBC America, glass of Champagne in my hand, I get the weird craving for a roasted marshmallow. Into the kitchen I go, grabbing a candle, some marshmallows, a match, and a fork, and the nearly-empty (but not quite!) Margarita pitcher, and I settled back on to the couch. Marshmallow speared on a fork, roasted over a candle-flame is surprisingly better than one might imagine. It really is quite good, if you like marshmallows (sorry to those who don't), and I do. So, after finishing the bottle of Champagne, the pitcher of margaritas, the bottle of sparkling cider, and two episodes of Sex in the City, I retired, not even the least bit buzzed. Leo returned for some late-night ribbon chasing and cord chewing, until he decided that wasn't fun anymore, and left. And now, today, I've awoken (not just now, I've been awake for a while, and yes, an hour counts as a while) to the delicious smell of roasting ham. I love ham. I absolutely love ham! The black-eyed peas are on the boil, the ham's roasting, and who knows what else. See, I was right, it is going to be a great New Year!
