Awesome.
I went dress shopping today. I need a dress for my friend Michelle's wedding next Saturday (so you know what I'll be doing on V-Day), so I decided to brave the Mall and torture myself with the usual experience of shopping for things in my size.
The awesome news: I've lost six pounds and gone from a 14 to a 12. I don't know how this happened, all I know is that the 14s were all loose on me and the 12s fit me perfectly.
The not-so-awesome-but-still-pretty-good news: My boobs are still way too big to fit into most dresses.
I kept staring at them all angrily. There were a couple of gorgeous dresses that fit me everywhere, except that they pushed my boobs up to my neck and I could barely breathe. DAMNIT. And there was this one pretty dress that had some ridiculous padding in the chest area so that it made it look like I had badly stuffed kleenex in them. Hello, I don't NEED any more.
Oh it was horrible. I mean, I'm not really complaining (OH NO I HAVE BREASTS WOE), it can just be frustrating. And I don't get it. If you're making a dress that fits more curvy figures, why the HELL do you make the bust an A cup? DOES NOT COMPUTE.
There was also the awesomeness of having the zipper on one dress get STUCK on its way down and having to get the saleslady (thankfully she was uber-nice about it) AND my mom into the dressing room to try and get it down. IT WAS STUCK. For like 5 minutes the damned thing wouldn't move. I think we got it off out of sheer willpower.
Anyway. I hate shopping. It's torture and I don't like spending money. Whenever some cheap chick flick touts the supposedly 'universal' truth that all women love to shop, I want to punch somebody in the face. I was very glad, however, to see that SOME of the best stores at the mall are catering to normal-sized women and selling things over a size 8. Very awesome clothes, too. Need moneys.
I love the dress I bought. It was one of the first I tried on, but I decided to keep going for about....oh, 8 or 10 more before I decided that I don't care if maybe it isn't so formal for a night wedding (it's an off-white background with a large sunflower print over it), as everyone's gonna be sloshed anyway and I'll probably never see those people again in my life. All I know is that I look damn good in it (seriously it has this awesome 60's silhouette that I love) and it's very me and I can wear it again.
I seriously need my own stylist, and a tailor/designer. That would be sweet.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Breaking News!
Stop the presses! Stop the presses! Breaking, hugely important mondo news breaking!
Ready?
Wait for it.
Wait for iiiiiit...
OK. First of all, I've decided to kick Gerard Butler off my Freebies List. Gerard, sweetcakes, you're very gorgeous and very sexy, but I just couldn't be with a man who'd stoop to doing a romantic comedy with Katherine 'Rainbow Killer' Heigl. Have you no shame? Have you no dignity?
No! I don't want to hear excuses. You're gone. Off you go. Don't give me that look. You know what you did. Take your cape with you. Mmhmm.
So.
Second, and most important of all, a highly coveted spot on my Freebies List has opened up. Who shall be the lucky man to join the high, exclusive ranks of that pedestal of sexyness, among such wonders as Christian Bale, Eric Bana, Reynaldo Giannechini and...um...whoever the other guy was?
Ladies and Gentlepervs, I present to you the marvel that is Jon Hamm:
I will give you a moment to stare and sigh in a dreamy fashion.
All done? good. OK you can stare some more.
I'm probably late to the Jon Hamm love fest, but please don't hate on me for that. My cheapo latin-american HBO has just now decided to run the first season of Mad Men over again, as preparation for their 'premiering' the second season this Sunday. So I've been catching up, completely hooked from the very first episode.
On a serious note, this show is fantastic, impeccably written and exciting, with gorgeous production values and simply the best drama I've seen in years. It reminds me of the West Wing at its peak, when everything the characters said was pitch-perfect and it completely grabbed and held your attention for 40 minutes. It is seriously a great show.
Mr Hamm is just a perk, you know. His character is a jerk sometimes, of course, so please don't think I'm letting his prettiness erase whatever he does. It just...well, it's just entrancing, really. The man is simply lovely.
And then after last night's episode he showed up on Conan and joked all charmingly about Tina Fey and his own handsomeness and even Conan looked like he wanted to squee.
So yes. Welcome to my Freebies List, Jon Hamm. Fastest rise to the top out of all the other four, so you should totally feel honored.
Now, shall we go into my office?
Ready?
Wait for it.
Wait for iiiiiit...
OK. First of all, I've decided to kick Gerard Butler off my Freebies List. Gerard, sweetcakes, you're very gorgeous and very sexy, but I just couldn't be with a man who'd stoop to doing a romantic comedy with Katherine 'Rainbow Killer' Heigl. Have you no shame? Have you no dignity?
No! I don't want to hear excuses. You're gone. Off you go. Don't give me that look. You know what you did. Take your cape with you. Mmhmm.
So.
Second, and most important of all, a highly coveted spot on my Freebies List has opened up. Who shall be the lucky man to join the high, exclusive ranks of that pedestal of sexyness, among such wonders as Christian Bale, Eric Bana, Reynaldo Giannechini and...um...whoever the other guy was?
Ladies and Gentlepervs, I present to you the marvel that is Jon Hamm:
I will give you a moment to stare and sigh in a dreamy fashion.
All done? good. OK you can stare some more.
I'm probably late to the Jon Hamm love fest, but please don't hate on me for that. My cheapo latin-american HBO has just now decided to run the first season of Mad Men over again, as preparation for their 'premiering' the second season this Sunday. So I've been catching up, completely hooked from the very first episode.
On a serious note, this show is fantastic, impeccably written and exciting, with gorgeous production values and simply the best drama I've seen in years. It reminds me of the West Wing at its peak, when everything the characters said was pitch-perfect and it completely grabbed and held your attention for 40 minutes. It is seriously a great show.
Mr Hamm is just a perk, you know. His character is a jerk sometimes, of course, so please don't think I'm letting his prettiness erase whatever he does. It just...well, it's just entrancing, really. The man is simply lovely.
And then after last night's episode he showed up on Conan and joked all charmingly about Tina Fey and his own handsomeness and even Conan looked like he wanted to squee.
So yes. Welcome to my Freebies List, Jon Hamm. Fastest rise to the top out of all the other four, so you should totally feel honored.
Now, shall we go into my office?
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Book #9: "Night Sins" by Tami Hoag
And now for something completely different!
Ooh boy. Have you heard of Tami Hoag? I hadn't. I had no idea she's a relatively famous writer of crime/suspense novels. And I had no idea she started her career writing serialized romance novels. And…boy, does it show. I haven't the slightest clue as to what this book was doing in a forgotten corner of our library, or who brought it in. All I know is that I was scanning for my next book and I liked the cover. Hey, my options are limited.
Night Sins is, in essence, the story of a kidnapping and the efforts made to recover him. The plot itself is actually quite good, it's well paced and just intriguing enough, and Tami Hoag has obviously done some careful research of police investigations and procedures. When she's focusing on the actual kidnapping, Hoag is more than a competent writer, and the book is surprisingly gripping and entertaining.
When, however, Hoag decides to focus on her characters, particularly the two leads, a fiercely independent female field agent Megan O'Malley and the dark, dangerous and attractive (of course) chief of Police, Mitch Holt, the book falls into hilarious and ridiculous one-liners and horrible dialogue. It's here that Tami Hoag's romance roots become painfully obvious. They're passages of seriously ridiculous descriptions and hilarious internal dialogue; with Megan , a clearly intelligent and strong woman, being reduced to a simpering idiot repeating the same lines about 'retaining control' while the irresistibly sexy Mitch holds her in his strong, manly arms and whispers "seductive" one-liners that would make any regular woman laugh in his face. For example:
(From when Megan, disheveled and tired first meets Mitch as he's dancing in the police station practicing for some charity event):
"Tall and trim, he had Harrison Ford's looks and an athlete's body. The underwear fit him like a second skin, announcing his gender in no uncertain terms. Megan fought to drag her gaze to less provocative details of his anatomy—his sculpted chest, narrow hips, long legs as muscular as a horseman's..."
Done cracking up yet? I was cringing and laughing as I wrote that out, still unable to believe that someone would actually write like that. Harrison Ford! Yes! And this is just in the first ten pages!
The painful sexual tension keeps building up, and it's very strange how Hoag decides to insert little 'sensual' passages between actual events in the plot, which are more often than not rather bloody and a little disturbing. It's as if she just had to make Mitch and Megan fall for each other and have wild, passionate sex even when it really has no rightful place in the plot. Maybe she's required to write the words "thick, pulsing shaft" (no, seriously) in every one of her novels. The biggest problem, really, is that she's obviously going for making your funny parts tingle and keeping up the tense, exciting feel of the book. Unfortunately, she's terrible at writing truly romantic, sensual scenes, and instead of being swept into it you end up laughing and the mood is clumsily broken.
"When he touched her, she felt like a woman, not a cop. It frightened her to let go of that identity, but there was Mitch, whispering, coaxing…trust me…touching the heart of her need…stroking the most feminine part of her…caressing…loving…trust me…"
Sweet holy ellipsis.
As for the rest of the book, it's not too bad. It's not great, but Hoag populates the book with a nice mix of background characters, and she does a decent job of capturing the feeling of despair and fear that falls on the town when the boy is kidnapped. The story's good, the pace is quick and entertaining, but her characters are such clichés that it's easy to get tired of them. Hoag knows how to get your attention, and you keep reading despite the pain. I ended up feeling vaguely embarrassed and ashamed that I had read this, like the aftermath of binging on chocolate chip cookies. They were delicious, but they do make you hurt afterwards..
On top of that, the book ends on somewhat of a cliffhanger, and it wasn't until the last few pages that I realized Night Sins is only part one of a two-book series. Yep, there's more of this. And of course, I had to find it and read it, because for all of Hoag's weaknesses, you just can't get into a murder mystery without wanting to find out who did it. So it's on to the sequel.
Stay tuned for the next review, of Guilty as Sin.
Yes, even the title is ridiculous.
Ooh boy. Have you heard of Tami Hoag? I hadn't. I had no idea she's a relatively famous writer of crime/suspense novels. And I had no idea she started her career writing serialized romance novels. And…boy, does it show. I haven't the slightest clue as to what this book was doing in a forgotten corner of our library, or who brought it in. All I know is that I was scanning for my next book and I liked the cover. Hey, my options are limited.
Night Sins is, in essence, the story of a kidnapping and the efforts made to recover him. The plot itself is actually quite good, it's well paced and just intriguing enough, and Tami Hoag has obviously done some careful research of police investigations and procedures. When she's focusing on the actual kidnapping, Hoag is more than a competent writer, and the book is surprisingly gripping and entertaining.
When, however, Hoag decides to focus on her characters, particularly the two leads, a fiercely independent female field agent Megan O'Malley and the dark, dangerous and attractive (of course) chief of Police, Mitch Holt, the book falls into hilarious and ridiculous one-liners and horrible dialogue. It's here that Tami Hoag's romance roots become painfully obvious. They're passages of seriously ridiculous descriptions and hilarious internal dialogue; with Megan , a clearly intelligent and strong woman, being reduced to a simpering idiot repeating the same lines about 'retaining control' while the irresistibly sexy Mitch holds her in his strong, manly arms and whispers "seductive" one-liners that would make any regular woman laugh in his face. For example:
(From when Megan, disheveled and tired first meets Mitch as he's dancing in the police station practicing for some charity event):
"Tall and trim, he had Harrison Ford's looks and an athlete's body. The underwear fit him like a second skin, announcing his gender in no uncertain terms. Megan fought to drag her gaze to less provocative details of his anatomy—his sculpted chest, narrow hips, long legs as muscular as a horseman's..."
Done cracking up yet? I was cringing and laughing as I wrote that out, still unable to believe that someone would actually write like that. Harrison Ford! Yes! And this is just in the first ten pages!
The painful sexual tension keeps building up, and it's very strange how Hoag decides to insert little 'sensual' passages between actual events in the plot, which are more often than not rather bloody and a little disturbing. It's as if she just had to make Mitch and Megan fall for each other and have wild, passionate sex even when it really has no rightful place in the plot. Maybe she's required to write the words "thick, pulsing shaft" (no, seriously) in every one of her novels. The biggest problem, really, is that she's obviously going for making your funny parts tingle and keeping up the tense, exciting feel of the book. Unfortunately, she's terrible at writing truly romantic, sensual scenes, and instead of being swept into it you end up laughing and the mood is clumsily broken.
"When he touched her, she felt like a woman, not a cop. It frightened her to let go of that identity, but there was Mitch, whispering, coaxing…trust me…touching the heart of her need…stroking the most feminine part of her…caressing…loving…trust me…"
Sweet holy ellipsis.
As for the rest of the book, it's not too bad. It's not great, but Hoag populates the book with a nice mix of background characters, and she does a decent job of capturing the feeling of despair and fear that falls on the town when the boy is kidnapped. The story's good, the pace is quick and entertaining, but her characters are such clichés that it's easy to get tired of them. Hoag knows how to get your attention, and you keep reading despite the pain. I ended up feeling vaguely embarrassed and ashamed that I had read this, like the aftermath of binging on chocolate chip cookies. They were delicious, but they do make you hurt afterwards..
On top of that, the book ends on somewhat of a cliffhanger, and it wasn't until the last few pages that I realized Night Sins is only part one of a two-book series. Yep, there's more of this. And of course, I had to find it and read it, because for all of Hoag's weaknesses, you just can't get into a murder mystery without wanting to find out who did it. So it's on to the sequel.
Stay tuned for the next review, of Guilty as Sin.
Yes, even the title is ridiculous.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Book #8: 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' by Khaled Hosseini
I am way behind on my review for this book, so unfortunately my memories of it aren't as clear as I would like them to be. Thankfully, the book made such an impact on me that I have yet to forget how powerful a read it was, how moving and beautiful a story it told.
Khaled Hosseini is perhaps better known for his breakout novel, The Kite Runner. It's the story of two boys living and growing up in war-torn Afghanistan, their friendship torn apart by the fact that each is from a different religious faction. With the Kite Runner, I finally understood the complexity and the magnitude of everything that had, and was still happening in that far-off country I had only heard about in the news. I think that (and this might be true for most Westerners) we have become almost numb to the constant reports of so many dead and so many attacks coming from Afghanistan, so that we almost come to forget that there are human lives being torn apart, friendships and families destroyed in a senseless struggle for power. Hosseini, with his simple yet touching prose, brought it all home in his first novel; though the story was fiction and the book had some flaws, he gave us a penetrating, honest look into Afghanistan, probably the first for many readers.
In A Thousand Splendid Suns, Hosseini does the same, but in a much more powerful way. This time, he focuses on the group that is perhaps the most affected by the wars in which they have little or no say at all: the women of Afghanistan. Hosseini, his style much more mature and elegant than in the Kite Runner, tells the story of two very different women: Mariam and Laila. The first part of the book focuses on Mariam, an illegitimate girl raised by a bitter, sad mother. Mariam is visited every now and then by her father, Jalil, a wealthy man whom she adores. She is a happy child until she discovers that her father and his family are ashamed of her, when she isn't allowed into his house after he breaks a promise to take her somewhere. She is heartbroken, and remains a sad and tragic figure as she is later forcefully married to a much older man. Mariam, a poor, uneducated girl, accepts her life as the isolated wife of an abusive, religiously conservative man, because she knows nothing better. Or rather, she believes she deserves nothing better. All she knows is that she must live the life she has been given, and that to fight it would be useless.
Hosseini leaves Mariam for a while to tell us of Laila a young girl, who lives down the street from the reclusive Mariam and her husband. Unlike the older woman, Laila has a loving family and a progressive father who believes women have the right to be educated and to work. Laila falls in love with a young man named Tariq, but just before they can be together, Afghanistan is thrown into a cycle of civil wars and invasions that would sink it into a constantly changing, constantly dangerous world in which death is always just around the corner. I won't spoil the how, but I'll just say that eventually Laila's and Miriam's lives are brought together.
It's here that Hosseini connects their two stories, and the women's relationship, tense at first, is the most honest and touching part of the entire book, and I admit it brought tears to my eyes. Laila finally allows Mariam to see that there is more to the world than suffering and sadness, resignation and numbness. The love that grows between them, like a mother and daughter, is beautifully written by Hosseini, their lives being affected but not much changed by the constant warfare in Afghanistan. As women during the reign of the Taliban, they are not allowed to know or to see anything, but Hosseini constantly connects their lives to what is going on in the larger world. They are in many ways helpless, but they learn to survive by their strength and love alone.
I think this last is why I found this book to be much more real and powerful than The Kite Runner. It's so rare to hear of war from the point of view of women, let alone Afghanistan, and even more rare to see it done so well as Hosseini does. The two women are so carefully drawn that you come to understand them completely, and there is never a moment when they seem unrealistic; they feel real, and their story has the most impact because of it. It's never manipulative or cloying: it's honest.
A Thousand Splendid Suns is a story full of sadness and tragedy, but there are moments of true beauty and happiness in the lives of Mariam and Laila, and these are just as heart-wrenching and powerful. I absolutely loved reading this book, even when it had me sobbing into my shirt in the middle of the night.
Khaled Hosseini is perhaps better known for his breakout novel, The Kite Runner. It's the story of two boys living and growing up in war-torn Afghanistan, their friendship torn apart by the fact that each is from a different religious faction. With the Kite Runner, I finally understood the complexity and the magnitude of everything that had, and was still happening in that far-off country I had only heard about in the news. I think that (and this might be true for most Westerners) we have become almost numb to the constant reports of so many dead and so many attacks coming from Afghanistan, so that we almost come to forget that there are human lives being torn apart, friendships and families destroyed in a senseless struggle for power. Hosseini, with his simple yet touching prose, brought it all home in his first novel; though the story was fiction and the book had some flaws, he gave us a penetrating, honest look into Afghanistan, probably the first for many readers.
In A Thousand Splendid Suns, Hosseini does the same, but in a much more powerful way. This time, he focuses on the group that is perhaps the most affected by the wars in which they have little or no say at all: the women of Afghanistan. Hosseini, his style much more mature and elegant than in the Kite Runner, tells the story of two very different women: Mariam and Laila. The first part of the book focuses on Mariam, an illegitimate girl raised by a bitter, sad mother. Mariam is visited every now and then by her father, Jalil, a wealthy man whom she adores. She is a happy child until she discovers that her father and his family are ashamed of her, when she isn't allowed into his house after he breaks a promise to take her somewhere. She is heartbroken, and remains a sad and tragic figure as she is later forcefully married to a much older man. Mariam, a poor, uneducated girl, accepts her life as the isolated wife of an abusive, religiously conservative man, because she knows nothing better. Or rather, she believes she deserves nothing better. All she knows is that she must live the life she has been given, and that to fight it would be useless.
Hosseini leaves Mariam for a while to tell us of Laila a young girl, who lives down the street from the reclusive Mariam and her husband. Unlike the older woman, Laila has a loving family and a progressive father who believes women have the right to be educated and to work. Laila falls in love with a young man named Tariq, but just before they can be together, Afghanistan is thrown into a cycle of civil wars and invasions that would sink it into a constantly changing, constantly dangerous world in which death is always just around the corner. I won't spoil the how, but I'll just say that eventually Laila's and Miriam's lives are brought together.
It's here that Hosseini connects their two stories, and the women's relationship, tense at first, is the most honest and touching part of the entire book, and I admit it brought tears to my eyes. Laila finally allows Mariam to see that there is more to the world than suffering and sadness, resignation and numbness. The love that grows between them, like a mother and daughter, is beautifully written by Hosseini, their lives being affected but not much changed by the constant warfare in Afghanistan. As women during the reign of the Taliban, they are not allowed to know or to see anything, but Hosseini constantly connects their lives to what is going on in the larger world. They are in many ways helpless, but they learn to survive by their strength and love alone.
I think this last is why I found this book to be much more real and powerful than The Kite Runner. It's so rare to hear of war from the point of view of women, let alone Afghanistan, and even more rare to see it done so well as Hosseini does. The two women are so carefully drawn that you come to understand them completely, and there is never a moment when they seem unrealistic; they feel real, and their story has the most impact because of it. It's never manipulative or cloying: it's honest.
A Thousand Splendid Suns is a story full of sadness and tragedy, but there are moments of true beauty and happiness in the lives of Mariam and Laila, and these are just as heart-wrenching and powerful. I absolutely loved reading this book, even when it had me sobbing into my shirt in the middle of the night.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
I have no idea what you're talking about...
....So here's a figgy with a pancake on her head.
(for those who aren't in the know: http://www.carrieisgett.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/pancake-bunny.jpg)
Saturday, January 24, 2009
A request for help!
Guys, I need help.
To anyone who reads this, please comment with ideas or suggestions.
See, we're throwing a bachelorette party for a good friend of mine from high school. And we need to figure out what we're gonna do for 3-4 hours that isn't eating, drinking, or possibly watching a stripper.
So, please comment with any suggestions for games, contests or the like. We have 5 prizes to give out and zero ideas. Have you been to a bachelorette party, or at least (if you're a guy) heard of one that was particularly cool? What did you do during it? Everything I'm looking at online looks totally cheesy and embarrassing, and not in a good way.
The party's next Saturday. We're going with a 'Moulin Rouge' theme. Any ideas would be MOST welcome.
To anyone who reads this, please comment with ideas or suggestions.
See, we're throwing a bachelorette party for a good friend of mine from high school. And we need to figure out what we're gonna do for 3-4 hours that isn't eating, drinking, or possibly watching a stripper.
So, please comment with any suggestions for games, contests or the like. We have 5 prizes to give out and zero ideas. Have you been to a bachelorette party, or at least (if you're a guy) heard of one that was particularly cool? What did you do during it? Everything I'm looking at online looks totally cheesy and embarrassing, and not in a good way.
The party's next Saturday. We're going with a 'Moulin Rouge' theme. Any ideas would be MOST welcome.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A little bit of everything
Good frakking LORD but it was cold last night!
I was wearing THREE pairs of socks, my sweats, a cami and a t-shirt, had a sheet, TWO flannel blankets AND my comforter on top of me and I was STILL freezing. I had to wrap myself up into a cocoon and I finally fell asleep only to wake up 8 hours later sweating because it was so hot in my room. Stupid crazy Honduran weather.
It was like 52F. And I know some of you will just say 'weaaaak' but as I've said before, this house is made for heat and is very, very drafty, and has basically no insulation. No heating, of course, and we're on top of a hill getting all the wind we can. Not to mention that my windows (single panes, lots of drafty holes in them) face the mountain and are completely open to the wind. Wonderful in summer, horrible for the freak days when the weather gets all crazy like this. Anyway, point is, it was really fucking cold. My water was fridge-cold when I woke up this morning, which just never happens.
Anyway, the sun is out, it's windy and 72 degrees, and hopefully the cold front won't be so bad tonight.
Speaking of last night, how AWESOME was Lost? I was really excited, and it was totally worth the wait. It was back on prime form; exciting, mysterious, freaky, confusing as hell and just really well done all around. Two episodes weren't enough--I WANT MORE. I think just the feeling that this is finally going somewhere helps immensely, and no one was even annoying. Sayid is still fabulously hot.
Mmmmmmmmmm.
*Ahem*. Yes! Hurrah for the return of a good drama!
In other TV news, my HBO is FINALLY showing reruns of the first season of Mad Men, in preparation for the second one. I don't get why this stupid station is so far behind, it can't take that long just to add some fucking subtitles to a show, can it? But anyway, it's there, and I'll finally get to see it. Saw the first episode last night and damn, I was hooked. And Zoey from West Wing? So awesome.
Hmm. Oscar Nominations were this morning. I hate that I've only seen ONE of the nominees (Dark Knight). I swear this isn't by choice. Honduran theaters only bring in the shittiest of American block busters, so there's absolutely no chance to watch smaller movies until they come out on DVD, and by the time that happens all the awards are over. And I really get into awards. Bleh. I can't wait to move somewhere with a wider range of movies.
The only movie I really want to watch is 'Slumdog Millionaire', as I love everything that Danny Boyle has ever done and I have such a crush on him. Will have to wait. And I'm pretty damned sick of hearing of Benjamin Button. I haven't seen it, but I hear it's crap, and I just don't like Brad Pitt that much. And I just randomly hate the name 'Benjamin Button'. Bugs me to no end.
Anyway. Have to write two book reviews, make some cookies, work on my friend's (not mine) bachelorette (what? wtf? why does spell check not think bachelorette is a word? fuck you, sexist spell check) party decorations and other small things like that.
Off to nurse my cramps and read. Toodles.
I was wearing THREE pairs of socks, my sweats, a cami and a t-shirt, had a sheet, TWO flannel blankets AND my comforter on top of me and I was STILL freezing. I had to wrap myself up into a cocoon and I finally fell asleep only to wake up 8 hours later sweating because it was so hot in my room. Stupid crazy Honduran weather.
It was like 52F. And I know some of you will just say 'weaaaak' but as I've said before, this house is made for heat and is very, very drafty, and has basically no insulation. No heating, of course, and we're on top of a hill getting all the wind we can. Not to mention that my windows (single panes, lots of drafty holes in them) face the mountain and are completely open to the wind. Wonderful in summer, horrible for the freak days when the weather gets all crazy like this. Anyway, point is, it was really fucking cold. My water was fridge-cold when I woke up this morning, which just never happens.
Anyway, the sun is out, it's windy and 72 degrees, and hopefully the cold front won't be so bad tonight.
Speaking of last night, how AWESOME was Lost? I was really excited, and it was totally worth the wait. It was back on prime form; exciting, mysterious, freaky, confusing as hell and just really well done all around. Two episodes weren't enough--I WANT MORE. I think just the feeling that this is finally going somewhere helps immensely, and no one was even annoying. Sayid is still fabulously hot.
Mmmmmmmmmm.
*Ahem*. Yes! Hurrah for the return of a good drama!
In other TV news, my HBO is FINALLY showing reruns of the first season of Mad Men, in preparation for the second one. I don't get why this stupid station is so far behind, it can't take that long just to add some fucking subtitles to a show, can it? But anyway, it's there, and I'll finally get to see it. Saw the first episode last night and damn, I was hooked. And Zoey from West Wing? So awesome.
Hmm. Oscar Nominations were this morning. I hate that I've only seen ONE of the nominees (Dark Knight). I swear this isn't by choice. Honduran theaters only bring in the shittiest of American block busters, so there's absolutely no chance to watch smaller movies until they come out on DVD, and by the time that happens all the awards are over. And I really get into awards. Bleh. I can't wait to move somewhere with a wider range of movies.
The only movie I really want to watch is 'Slumdog Millionaire', as I love everything that Danny Boyle has ever done and I have such a crush on him. Will have to wait. And I'm pretty damned sick of hearing of Benjamin Button. I haven't seen it, but I hear it's crap, and I just don't like Brad Pitt that much. And I just randomly hate the name 'Benjamin Button'. Bugs me to no end.
Anyway. Have to write two book reviews, make some cookies, work on my friend's (not mine) bachelorette (what? wtf? why does spell check not think bachelorette is a word? fuck you, sexist spell check) party decorations and other small things like that.
Off to nurse my cramps and read. Toodles.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Book #7: 'On Writing' by Stephen King
I really didn't mean to read another Stephen King book for the Cannonball Read. It would be too easy. It would only take me about a week to rack up 10 more books on my list, and I thought that that was just too damn easy. This is supposed to be a challenge, man. No more King books, I said. But I couldn't resist. It was on sale!
This won't be a very long review, as I said everything I needed to say about Stephen King in my review of Everything's Eventual. To recap: Hate him or love him, there is no denying that King has an innate talent for storytelling, and for the most part his books make for deeply entertaining, satisfying reads. I'd been wanting to buy On Writing for a long time now, but I just couldn't be bothered to buy the hardback edition and had only found paperback copies in Spanish, which just wasn't gonna fly. So when I found it at the bookstore I just snatched it up and immediately started reading it.
On Writing is the first book on the craft that I've ever read, and I'm very happy that I did. I've always had an aversion to anyone giving advice on writing, mostly because I don't think you have any right to lecture people on how to write well when you yourself haven't written anything worthwhile in your life. It would be like reading a dieting book written by a man who weighed 300 pounds. But I like Stephen King, I like his writing style, and I was perfectly willing to listen to an author who has not only mastered the art of writing but made millions doing it.
The book is divided in two parts; the first is a short autobiography that outlines King's road to becoming a writer. Though it doesn't have much to do with writing itself, King is great at making even the most mundane stories entertaining, and it's interesting to read about his struggles with becoming a writer. It certainly helps form a clear picture of an author—how he started out, how he works, why he writes what he does. It's self-deprecating and very funny in parts, and it's a great set up for the second half of the book. Here, King talks briefly about the basic tools an amateur needs to become a writer, with sections devoted to such things as vocabulary, grammar and writing dialogue. He provides a lot of helpful examples, but what I liked best is that King is always encouraging, continually pushing his belief that any competent writer can become a good writer if they try hard enough. It’s helpful stuff even if you don't plan to be a professional writer, and I think his advice could be applied to any kind of writing you want to do.
The book is short and straight to the point; King doesn't want to teach you how to write, he wants to teach you how to write better. He doesn't give you a lot of rules, just a lot of helpful tips to try out, all delivered with his particular sense of humor and no-nonsense style. This was a great read, definitely one of my King favorites, and I'd highly recommend it to anyone who wants to become a better writer.
This won't be a very long review, as I said everything I needed to say about Stephen King in my review of Everything's Eventual. To recap: Hate him or love him, there is no denying that King has an innate talent for storytelling, and for the most part his books make for deeply entertaining, satisfying reads. I'd been wanting to buy On Writing for a long time now, but I just couldn't be bothered to buy the hardback edition and had only found paperback copies in Spanish, which just wasn't gonna fly. So when I found it at the bookstore I just snatched it up and immediately started reading it.
On Writing is the first book on the craft that I've ever read, and I'm very happy that I did. I've always had an aversion to anyone giving advice on writing, mostly because I don't think you have any right to lecture people on how to write well when you yourself haven't written anything worthwhile in your life. It would be like reading a dieting book written by a man who weighed 300 pounds. But I like Stephen King, I like his writing style, and I was perfectly willing to listen to an author who has not only mastered the art of writing but made millions doing it.
The book is divided in two parts; the first is a short autobiography that outlines King's road to becoming a writer. Though it doesn't have much to do with writing itself, King is great at making even the most mundane stories entertaining, and it's interesting to read about his struggles with becoming a writer. It certainly helps form a clear picture of an author—how he started out, how he works, why he writes what he does. It's self-deprecating and very funny in parts, and it's a great set up for the second half of the book. Here, King talks briefly about the basic tools an amateur needs to become a writer, with sections devoted to such things as vocabulary, grammar and writing dialogue. He provides a lot of helpful examples, but what I liked best is that King is always encouraging, continually pushing his belief that any competent writer can become a good writer if they try hard enough. It’s helpful stuff even if you don't plan to be a professional writer, and I think his advice could be applied to any kind of writing you want to do.
The book is short and straight to the point; King doesn't want to teach you how to write, he wants to teach you how to write better. He doesn't give you a lot of rules, just a lot of helpful tips to try out, all delivered with his particular sense of humor and no-nonsense style. This was a great read, definitely one of my King favorites, and I'd highly recommend it to anyone who wants to become a better writer.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Why Adam West is the best Batman Ever
Sorry, Christian Bale. You know I adore you, but..
Does YOUR Batman have an assorted line of OCEANIC REPELLENT BAT SPRAYS? FOR BARRACUDAS? That make SHARKS EXPLODE? SHARK REPELLENT BAT SPRAY?
DOES HE?
I don't think so!
TAKE THAT, NOLAN! YEAAAAAAAAAH!
(ps: Bat. Ladder. It has a LABEL. FUCK YEAH!)
Does YOUR Batman have an assorted line of OCEANIC REPELLENT BAT SPRAYS? FOR BARRACUDAS? That make SHARKS EXPLODE? SHARK REPELLENT BAT SPRAY?
DOES HE?
I don't think so!
TAKE THAT, NOLAN! YEAAAAAAAAAH!
(ps: Bat. Ladder. It has a LABEL. FUCK YEAH!)
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Book #6: "The Witch of Portobello" by Paulo Coelho
I'm going to come right out and say this at the very start, so as to leave no doubt in the matter: I hated this book. Hated it. It took all of my willpower to make myself finish it, to keep myself from throwing the book at the corner out of sheer frustration.
I don't know if the Paulo Coelho mania is a phenomenon outside of Honduras. If it isn't, then lucky you. But in recent years here he's become the go-to author immediately named by people who have never read more than two books in their lives when they're asked who their favorite authors are. Go to any local bookstore and you're likely to find not only shelves full of his books, but shelves devoted to books of Paulo Coelho quotes.. I picked up a copy of "The Alchemist" a couple of years ago, and couldn't make it past the first three pages of cheesy, bizarre writing, and I had given up on him until I decided to try another of his books in the spirit of the Cannonball Read. I received 'The Witch of Portobello' as a gift, and it's a good thing I can't remember who gave it to me, as I'd probably use it to hit that person on the head. Repeatedly.
The titular 'witch' is a woman named Sherine Khalil, who later dubs herself "Athena", a rather bold move that pretty much tells you everything you need to know about this detestable woman. We hear her story through a series of 'interviews' someone has gathered after she has been found brutally murdered. This is pointed out in the first pages of the book, and we spend the rest of it hearing from people who met Athena and were affected by her in her personal quest for spirituality.
Sherine was born in Rumania but was adopted by a couple of rich Lebanese parents. As she grows older, Sherine, or as she decides to call herself, Athena, becomes a restless, confused woman seeking for answers and for a meaning in her life. She has a series of meaningless relationships before she meets up with her birth mother, a Rumanian gypsy, who lets her in to a world of rituals, dances, and quests to reach the spirit of the "Great Mother". You have no idea how I cringed every time I read those two words.
The plot is flimsy at best, serving only as an excuse for Coelho to expound on the virtues of some bizarre New Age/ Wiccan beliefs that only seem to turn Athena into an insufferable pedant we're supposed to believe is charming and alluring. So we're forced as readers to not only get through painfully long treatises on 'the true meaning of love' and 'reaching for your center' but to get to know a truly annoying and ridiculous main character who speaks in riddles that we're supposed to think are profound and spiritual, but only sound pretentious and ridiculous. Athena is one of the most insufferable characters I've ever read about, and the rest of the characters gravitate around her for reasons I couldn't even come close to understanding. I can only suppose that because every single supporting character is clichéd and incredibly boring, they had nothing better to do than to listen to someone as horrible as Athena as she constantly mocks them or belittles them, thinking herself somehow above the rest of the mortals. I never understood what the hell was the big deal about her, or why Coelho seems to adore her completely.
The dialogue is horrible and hokey, and I can only blame part of this on a really bad translation. "Love just is", one character says, and I could only roll my eyes at the page. And there's countless other little quips of wisdom throughout the book, and I'd quote some here but for the fact that I never want to open this book again. Trust me, it's painful.
To cap it all off, the book ends with a pathetic 'twist' that finally made me throw the book across the room. Thankfully I was finished by then.
I honestly can't begin to fathom who the intended audience for this book is. My best guess is rich bores with nothing to do but follow some ridiculous quest into paganism because they're bored with the rest of the world and need to feel closer to the rabble. Or perhaps die-hard fans of Paulo Coelho of the type I've met, who are just pretentious enough to spout off Coelho quotes like they're some sort of wisdom. I don't know. All I do for sure is that it was a torturous read, needlessly long and terribly annoying. It took me almost a whole month to get through it, and I can only look on the experience with disgust.
The only good thing I can gather from it is that at least now I know that I'll never pick up another Paulo Coelho book for as long as I live.
I don't know if the Paulo Coelho mania is a phenomenon outside of Honduras. If it isn't, then lucky you. But in recent years here he's become the go-to author immediately named by people who have never read more than two books in their lives when they're asked who their favorite authors are. Go to any local bookstore and you're likely to find not only shelves full of his books, but shelves devoted to books of Paulo Coelho quotes.. I picked up a copy of "The Alchemist" a couple of years ago, and couldn't make it past the first three pages of cheesy, bizarre writing, and I had given up on him until I decided to try another of his books in the spirit of the Cannonball Read. I received 'The Witch of Portobello' as a gift, and it's a good thing I can't remember who gave it to me, as I'd probably use it to hit that person on the head. Repeatedly.
The titular 'witch' is a woman named Sherine Khalil, who later dubs herself "Athena", a rather bold move that pretty much tells you everything you need to know about this detestable woman. We hear her story through a series of 'interviews' someone has gathered after she has been found brutally murdered. This is pointed out in the first pages of the book, and we spend the rest of it hearing from people who met Athena and were affected by her in her personal quest for spirituality.
Sherine was born in Rumania but was adopted by a couple of rich Lebanese parents. As she grows older, Sherine, or as she decides to call herself, Athena, becomes a restless, confused woman seeking for answers and for a meaning in her life. She has a series of meaningless relationships before she meets up with her birth mother, a Rumanian gypsy, who lets her in to a world of rituals, dances, and quests to reach the spirit of the "Great Mother". You have no idea how I cringed every time I read those two words.
The plot is flimsy at best, serving only as an excuse for Coelho to expound on the virtues of some bizarre New Age/ Wiccan beliefs that only seem to turn Athena into an insufferable pedant we're supposed to believe is charming and alluring. So we're forced as readers to not only get through painfully long treatises on 'the true meaning of love' and 'reaching for your center' but to get to know a truly annoying and ridiculous main character who speaks in riddles that we're supposed to think are profound and spiritual, but only sound pretentious and ridiculous. Athena is one of the most insufferable characters I've ever read about, and the rest of the characters gravitate around her for reasons I couldn't even come close to understanding. I can only suppose that because every single supporting character is clichéd and incredibly boring, they had nothing better to do than to listen to someone as horrible as Athena as she constantly mocks them or belittles them, thinking herself somehow above the rest of the mortals. I never understood what the hell was the big deal about her, or why Coelho seems to adore her completely.
The dialogue is horrible and hokey, and I can only blame part of this on a really bad translation. "Love just is", one character says, and I could only roll my eyes at the page. And there's countless other little quips of wisdom throughout the book, and I'd quote some here but for the fact that I never want to open this book again. Trust me, it's painful.
To cap it all off, the book ends with a pathetic 'twist' that finally made me throw the book across the room. Thankfully I was finished by then.
I honestly can't begin to fathom who the intended audience for this book is. My best guess is rich bores with nothing to do but follow some ridiculous quest into paganism because they're bored with the rest of the world and need to feel closer to the rabble. Or perhaps die-hard fans of Paulo Coelho of the type I've met, who are just pretentious enough to spout off Coelho quotes like they're some sort of wisdom. I don't know. All I do for sure is that it was a torturous read, needlessly long and terribly annoying. It took me almost a whole month to get through it, and I can only look on the experience with disgust.
The only good thing I can gather from it is that at least now I know that I'll never pick up another Paulo Coelho book for as long as I live.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Book #5: "Embers" by Sandor Marai (translated by Carol Brown Janeway )
A short review for a short book.
"Embers", written by Hungarian author Sandor Marai in 1942, was a surprising find. One of the reasons I'm loving the Cannonball Read so much is that I'm getting the chance to read books I would never have given a chance to before. I am determined to read whatever falls into my hands, whether by chance or by recommendation. My dad found "Embers" in a used-books store, and handed it over to me saying "you might like it".
I did. Knowing absolutely nothing about the book, I found myself getting through it in less than a week, both because it's a very short read at 213 pages (in rather large font) and because it's an engrossing, relaxing read that was unlike anything I had ever read before.
"Embers" takes place during two days in the life of an old retired General, who lives in complete seclusion in a vast, largely abandoned mansion in the mountains. The General receives a letter announcing the arrival of a former friend, whom he hasn't seen in 41 years. We slowly discover, as the General prepares the mansion for his friend's arrival (so that it looks exactly as it did the last time they saw each other) that the two men had a remarkably strong friendship during their younger years. The General meditates on the meaning of friendship between men, and while some of the ideas here might feel a little dated to modern audiences, the writing is smooth and the story moving, and we come to understand the two characters perfectly from only a few pages.
On the second day, the friend arrives. During a dinner, the General leads a calm but passionate conversation where we learn how the seemingly unbreakable friendship was broken, and what has happened to each of the men during the 41 years they were separated. It's a powerful, long scene, with some beautifully detailed descriptions that really made me feel like I was in the room, and hearing the General's voice as he spoke. In the course of a single night and one conversation, the friends speak of loyalty, love, the country around them and each other, and it's a truly engrossing, insightful read.
"Embers" is a book entirely about its characters, with little in the way of plot, so I wouldn't recommend it to people who are looking for action-heavy reading. It's certainly something different, relaxing and beautifully written. It's also very, very short, so even if you don't like meditative character studies, it will be over pretty quick. I think it's also the first time I've ever read anything by a Hungarian author, which fits perfectly with the idea of the Cannonball Read: give things a chance, and read something different every time.
"Embers", written by Hungarian author Sandor Marai in 1942, was a surprising find. One of the reasons I'm loving the Cannonball Read so much is that I'm getting the chance to read books I would never have given a chance to before. I am determined to read whatever falls into my hands, whether by chance or by recommendation. My dad found "Embers" in a used-books store, and handed it over to me saying "you might like it".
I did. Knowing absolutely nothing about the book, I found myself getting through it in less than a week, both because it's a very short read at 213 pages (in rather large font) and because it's an engrossing, relaxing read that was unlike anything I had ever read before.
"Embers" takes place during two days in the life of an old retired General, who lives in complete seclusion in a vast, largely abandoned mansion in the mountains. The General receives a letter announcing the arrival of a former friend, whom he hasn't seen in 41 years. We slowly discover, as the General prepares the mansion for his friend's arrival (so that it looks exactly as it did the last time they saw each other) that the two men had a remarkably strong friendship during their younger years. The General meditates on the meaning of friendship between men, and while some of the ideas here might feel a little dated to modern audiences, the writing is smooth and the story moving, and we come to understand the two characters perfectly from only a few pages.
On the second day, the friend arrives. During a dinner, the General leads a calm but passionate conversation where we learn how the seemingly unbreakable friendship was broken, and what has happened to each of the men during the 41 years they were separated. It's a powerful, long scene, with some beautifully detailed descriptions that really made me feel like I was in the room, and hearing the General's voice as he spoke. In the course of a single night and one conversation, the friends speak of loyalty, love, the country around them and each other, and it's a truly engrossing, insightful read.
"Embers" is a book entirely about its characters, with little in the way of plot, so I wouldn't recommend it to people who are looking for action-heavy reading. It's certainly something different, relaxing and beautifully written. It's also very, very short, so even if you don't like meditative character studies, it will be over pretty quick. I think it's also the first time I've ever read anything by a Hungarian author, which fits perfectly with the idea of the Cannonball Read: give things a chance, and read something different every time.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
TACKYPALOOZA PART 2!
Two more entries for TACKYPALOOZA:
Just because. Sorry that the photos are so small but...well if they were any bigger they'd just be more horrifying.
COACH JESUS!!!!
Nativity Scene featuring dogs:
KLASSY.
Just because. Sorry that the photos are so small but...well if they were any bigger they'd just be more horrifying.
COACH JESUS!!!!
Nativity Scene featuring dogs:
KLASSY.
TACKYPALLOOZA!!!!
At Sofia's insistence:
Scourge the internet for the TACKIEST things you can find.
These are my first two submissions (and as Godtopus is my witness, I shall find more):
Because nothing, NOTHING is more tacky to me than someone wearing truly heinous clothes in public and thinking they're the classiest, most enviable things in the universe. It's precious.
And this:
Not only is this a marvel of tackyness and sluthood, but a miracle of gravity as well.
And now, to look around the internet for something I remember being the most horrible piece of home decoration I have EVER seen. ONWARDS!
Scourge the internet for the TACKIEST things you can find.
These are my first two submissions (and as Godtopus is my witness, I shall find more):
Because nothing, NOTHING is more tacky to me than someone wearing truly heinous clothes in public and thinking they're the classiest, most enviable things in the universe. It's precious.
And this:
Not only is this a marvel of tackyness and sluthood, but a miracle of gravity as well.
And now, to look around the internet for something I remember being the most horrible piece of home decoration I have EVER seen. ONWARDS!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
A belated New Year's Post
Five Things That Made Me Happy in 2008:
1. Ending my job on a high note
And by high note, I mean I didn't lose my mind. I've probably mentioned this before, but until July of last year, I was teaching art at my old high school. 7th-10th grade, with a whopping 259 students under my watch, for 30 hours a week. It was my first real job out of college, and I was literally thrown into it with absolutely no idea of what I was doing back in January 2006. I can't even begin to tell you how much I learned in those two years; about myself, about other people and about, well, growing up. It was a very strange, crazy experience, and by the end of the 2007-2008 school year, I was completely exhausted both mentally and physically. It took...so much out of me. I loved the actual JOB, and most of the kids, but I was in such a toxic work environment, surrounded by incompetent and negligent superiors, who didn't give a damn that I was having to deal with 259 teenagers every week all on my own with absolutely no support, that I almost came to dread every new work day. And I hated that. So by the end of the school year, I had just HAD it. I just wanted it to end. In part I felt horrible because I knew I hadn't been a good teacher those last few weeks, and how unfair that had been to the large majority of kids I taught. I didn't even say proper goodbyes to anyone there, but honestly, I had never felt close to any of my coworkers, let alone my superiors, so it was no great loss.
And I know that I did the best I could. Through the handful of truly horrible kids, through the incompetent principals, through the ungratefulness of my superiors, I did my best. And I'm proud of that. In the time since, I've met a lot of my former students around town (it's a very small place) who have sincerely told me they miss me, and that's the best validation I could hope for. All I got from my bosses was a meager paycheck, not even a goodbye or a thank you. I don't miss the place, but I do miss the students, sometimes terribly, and I miss having fun with teaching. I know that I want to go back to doing it, and I only hope that in the future wherever I end up will have more understanding superiors that don't screw their teachers over at every opportunity.
So I was glad it was over. And I was glad for the experience. And oh boy was I glad that I didn't have to wake up at 5.30 every single day.
2. Spring Break
I went to Texas. And it was wonderful. Of course, if I had known that I wouldn't see my fiance for another 8 months, the whole thing would've been a lot more gloomy. As it was though, it was a perfect trip, even if I did suffer from food poisoning for the first time in my life. And it helped me recover my strengths for what would prove to be the hardest months at work.
How DID I survive those eight months? I haven't the faintest. But let me just say: God bless the internet, chatrooms, and the magnificent wonder that is Skype. That is all.
3. Free Time. Glorious, glorious free time.
I know. I should feel ashamed for being a shameless unemployed lazybag living with her parents while waiting for a visa. But you know what? I don't. I mean, I do feel vaguely guilty about it, but the simple truth is that there's not a whole lot I CAN be doing right now. I can't get a job, because I can't commit to any amount of time with any certainty, and part-time jobs don't really exist in Honduras. So I can't work, I can't travel (as the embassy might call any time), I can't really do much of anything.
But I found things to do. I've always been pretty good at keeping myself entertained, and I was never one to complain about having free time and being able to sleep as late as I wanted to.
The free time has given me a lot of time for myself, and I needed it. I needed a break. And I finally had time to start my garden, and to get back to painting and drawing, which I hadn't done since college. And God, I missed it. I had forgotten how good it felt to sit and create something, to work with my hands, to make something beautiful happen. And for that I am very, very grateful. I realize how incredibly lucky I am that I can basically sit around with no job, and some people might hate me, but there you go. I swear, I wish I could be working at my new job right now, but my hands are tied, so I might as well make the best of it, right?
Of course right.
Oh, and I haven't been a complete leech. I help mom with house things and payments from my savings, and I've made a nice sum of money by selling Christmas cookies and such. Who the hell knew I could cook?
4. Christmas and New Years
They just went by, I know. But they were, hands down, the best holidays I have ever had in my life. Graham came to visit, and this time we had time to really be together, and he had a chance to meet my crazy family, and my family had time to meet (and love him). Honestly, how could they not?
We had an insane Christmas party, where everything was disgustingly perfect and happy, with lots of gifts and food and booze. We took a ridiculously perfect trip to the mountains in Valle de Angeles. We went to the pacific beaches. We spent New Year's Eve together for the third year in a row.
It really was just...great. And so, having him leave again, and having the holidays be over are just that much more depressing than they've been in past years. But there you go, you can't have it all. And I've always been a half-full kind of chick, and I will stop whining RIGHT. NOW.
Ok. Good.
5. Graham.
Always. Always. Even though we're 1400 miles apart and we only saw each other for a total of about...two months this year, our relationship is stronger (and stranger...) than ever, and I cannot wait until we can be together for good. Good lord, those will be some crazyass times.
That's all I have to say about that, before I get so disgustingly cheesy that everyone will just want to puke a rainbow or two.
Ahem.
HONORABLE MENTIONS:
-The Dark Knight: Oh, God, yes. It was the only movie I watched in theaters this year. That's saying something. It was glorious in its awesomeness. I want to take this movie and make out with it behind some bleachers. Because, damn.
-Brazilian soap operas: Because yes. Mmhmm.
-Quaker Granola Cereal: oh, such ambrosia. Oh, such perfection.
-Shortbread cookies: because I rocked them out, and they made me sweet, sweet moneys that allowed me to get all my Christmas presents without dipping into my savings.
-Pajiba: Phwoar. Warning: the last time I got so into an online community, I ended up getting engaged to one of its members. So...watch out, is all I'm sayin'.
*****
NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION:
-Get hitched.
BOO-YAH!
1. Ending my job on a high note
And by high note, I mean I didn't lose my mind. I've probably mentioned this before, but until July of last year, I was teaching art at my old high school. 7th-10th grade, with a whopping 259 students under my watch, for 30 hours a week. It was my first real job out of college, and I was literally thrown into it with absolutely no idea of what I was doing back in January 2006. I can't even begin to tell you how much I learned in those two years; about myself, about other people and about, well, growing up. It was a very strange, crazy experience, and by the end of the 2007-2008 school year, I was completely exhausted both mentally and physically. It took...so much out of me. I loved the actual JOB, and most of the kids, but I was in such a toxic work environment, surrounded by incompetent and negligent superiors, who didn't give a damn that I was having to deal with 259 teenagers every week all on my own with absolutely no support, that I almost came to dread every new work day. And I hated that. So by the end of the school year, I had just HAD it. I just wanted it to end. In part I felt horrible because I knew I hadn't been a good teacher those last few weeks, and how unfair that had been to the large majority of kids I taught. I didn't even say proper goodbyes to anyone there, but honestly, I had never felt close to any of my coworkers, let alone my superiors, so it was no great loss.
And I know that I did the best I could. Through the handful of truly horrible kids, through the incompetent principals, through the ungratefulness of my superiors, I did my best. And I'm proud of that. In the time since, I've met a lot of my former students around town (it's a very small place) who have sincerely told me they miss me, and that's the best validation I could hope for. All I got from my bosses was a meager paycheck, not even a goodbye or a thank you. I don't miss the place, but I do miss the students, sometimes terribly, and I miss having fun with teaching. I know that I want to go back to doing it, and I only hope that in the future wherever I end up will have more understanding superiors that don't screw their teachers over at every opportunity.
So I was glad it was over. And I was glad for the experience. And oh boy was I glad that I didn't have to wake up at 5.30 every single day.
2. Spring Break
I went to Texas. And it was wonderful. Of course, if I had known that I wouldn't see my fiance for another 8 months, the whole thing would've been a lot more gloomy. As it was though, it was a perfect trip, even if I did suffer from food poisoning for the first time in my life. And it helped me recover my strengths for what would prove to be the hardest months at work.
How DID I survive those eight months? I haven't the faintest. But let me just say: God bless the internet, chatrooms, and the magnificent wonder that is Skype. That is all.
3. Free Time. Glorious, glorious free time.
I know. I should feel ashamed for being a shameless unemployed lazybag living with her parents while waiting for a visa. But you know what? I don't. I mean, I do feel vaguely guilty about it, but the simple truth is that there's not a whole lot I CAN be doing right now. I can't get a job, because I can't commit to any amount of time with any certainty, and part-time jobs don't really exist in Honduras. So I can't work, I can't travel (as the embassy might call any time), I can't really do much of anything.
But I found things to do. I've always been pretty good at keeping myself entertained, and I was never one to complain about having free time and being able to sleep as late as I wanted to.
The free time has given me a lot of time for myself, and I needed it. I needed a break. And I finally had time to start my garden, and to get back to painting and drawing, which I hadn't done since college. And God, I missed it. I had forgotten how good it felt to sit and create something, to work with my hands, to make something beautiful happen. And for that I am very, very grateful. I realize how incredibly lucky I am that I can basically sit around with no job, and some people might hate me, but there you go. I swear, I wish I could be working at my new job right now, but my hands are tied, so I might as well make the best of it, right?
Of course right.
Oh, and I haven't been a complete leech. I help mom with house things and payments from my savings, and I've made a nice sum of money by selling Christmas cookies and such. Who the hell knew I could cook?
4. Christmas and New Years
They just went by, I know. But they were, hands down, the best holidays I have ever had in my life. Graham came to visit, and this time we had time to really be together, and he had a chance to meet my crazy family, and my family had time to meet (and love him). Honestly, how could they not?
We had an insane Christmas party, where everything was disgustingly perfect and happy, with lots of gifts and food and booze. We took a ridiculously perfect trip to the mountains in Valle de Angeles. We went to the pacific beaches. We spent New Year's Eve together for the third year in a row.
It really was just...great. And so, having him leave again, and having the holidays be over are just that much more depressing than they've been in past years. But there you go, you can't have it all. And I've always been a half-full kind of chick, and I will stop whining RIGHT. NOW.
Ok. Good.
5. Graham.
Always. Always. Even though we're 1400 miles apart and we only saw each other for a total of about...two months this year, our relationship is stronger (and stranger...) than ever, and I cannot wait until we can be together for good. Good lord, those will be some crazyass times.
That's all I have to say about that, before I get so disgustingly cheesy that everyone will just want to puke a rainbow or two.
Ahem.
HONORABLE MENTIONS:
-The Dark Knight: Oh, God, yes. It was the only movie I watched in theaters this year. That's saying something. It was glorious in its awesomeness. I want to take this movie and make out with it behind some bleachers. Because, damn.
-Brazilian soap operas: Because yes. Mmhmm.
-Quaker Granola Cereal: oh, such ambrosia. Oh, such perfection.
-Shortbread cookies: because I rocked them out, and they made me sweet, sweet moneys that allowed me to get all my Christmas presents without dipping into my savings.
-Pajiba: Phwoar. Warning: the last time I got so into an online community, I ended up getting engaged to one of its members. So...watch out, is all I'm sayin'.
*****
NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION:
-Get hitched.
BOO-YAH!
Monday, January 5, 2009
I don't even know.
109
BOO-YAH.
This is what watching "Apocalypto" play on one of my cable channels does to me: drives me to such levels of rage and hatred at Mel Gibson that I take it out on harmless internet games that I JUST HAVE TO BEAT.
So, hey!
2009, y'all!
How about it. Oh...yeah, I guess I'm a bit late to the party. But I've been busy what with the Fiance visiting from Texas and me trying to take him through the Tour of Honduras and the Fig Family in 14 Confusing Days! (It's quite exciting, really. You must try it. Beware though, you will be fed until you burst).
But, now I'm back. Still no visa, still no job, still no idea of when I'll be able to get back to doing something again.
It can't be too far off, though. Right?
Right?
Of course right.
Goodnight.
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BOO-YAH.
This is what watching "Apocalypto" play on one of my cable channels does to me: drives me to such levels of rage and hatred at Mel Gibson that I take it out on harmless internet games that I JUST HAVE TO BEAT.
So, hey!
2009, y'all!
How about it. Oh...yeah, I guess I'm a bit late to the party. But I've been busy what with the Fiance visiting from Texas and me trying to take him through the Tour of Honduras and the Fig Family in 14 Confusing Days! (It's quite exciting, really. You must try it. Beware though, you will be fed until you burst).
But, now I'm back. Still no visa, still no job, still no idea of when I'll be able to get back to doing something again.
It can't be too far off, though. Right?
Right?
Of course right.
Goodnight.
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