Now I love the Occupy movement. Although I think that in some places like Oakland it has gotten a bit out of hand, I still absolutely love it and I wish that I had the time (and money) to go and participate.
Besides the message however, I also love the music that has come out of this movement. One of the things I always complain about to my father is that he was alive and active during the 70s when all of the anti-establishment folk songs were popular and I completely missed all of them (on a contrasting note I think that LBJ is one of our most under-appreciated presidents who did NOT deserve all the hate that he got thrown his way). This is most likely why I love such songs as Run From The Gun by Dead Confederate. Now, I have found this absolute gem coming from the Occupy Seattle camp that makes me so happy that there are some very talented people out there making beautiful music for a great cause.
This guy is just amazing and I just wanna listen to it over, and over, and over again.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Up-up-update
What I'm reading right now: "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman (as soon as I can find it again) and "Life, the Universe, and Everything" by Douglas Adams
What I'm listening to on repeat: A very catchy song called "Down with the Trumpets" by a relatively unknown Hip Hop group called Rizzle Kicks. Now I'm not really one for rapping unless I'm at a school dance or tearing it off presents of Christmas morning, I normally just stick to music where actual melodies are the order of the day. However, these two guys perfectly blend their low-difficulty singing with high-difficulty rap skills and their music has just gotten to me.
And hasn't given my poor brain any rest for a week.
What I'm listening to on repeat: A very catchy song called "Down with the Trumpets" by a relatively unknown Hip Hop group called Rizzle Kicks. Now I'm not really one for rapping unless I'm at a school dance or tearing it off presents of Christmas morning, I normally just stick to music where actual melodies are the order of the day. However, these two guys perfectly blend their low-difficulty singing with high-difficulty rap skills and their music has just gotten to me.
And hasn't given my poor brain any rest for a week.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
This afternoon I caught my 70 year old dad whistling along to the radio.
It was playing Love Story by Taylor Swift.
I was mildly alarmed.
It was playing Love Story by Taylor Swift.
I was mildly alarmed.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Ricky Perry
Now, it's probably not surprising that I consider myself a Democrat. I live in Western Washington for heaven's sake. Contrary to the position most people would expect to come from a person so far to the left, I am a supporter of capital punishment (Edit: The Troy Davis debacle/calamity/tragedy notwithstanding). As I stated about Bin Laden earlier, there are simply some people who deserve the ultimate punishment that can be given. On that note, I support Governor Perry's choice to stick up for his State's reputation with this controversial subject. Many of these people who act like it is all cut & dried and accuse him of being a "Nazi," and as much of a murderer as the men on death row, don't understand the extensive process it take for a person to actually make it to that execution chamber. Sure, mistakes happen and in theory the accused could be innocent men but many act like it is a common occurrence, that it doesn't take over five years to put someone on death row. It doesn't even save money to execute a man rather than keep them in jail or life. That just illustrates how much money is poured into making absolutely sure that they caught the right man. Sometimes they even die in prison before all of the appeals go through.
So, "Right on, Rick Perry!" I may not be voting for you in next year's election of you manage to get the nomination, but on this front I think you are being attacked more than you deserve.
So, "Right on, Rick Perry!" I may not be voting for you in next year's election of you manage to get the nomination, but on this front I think you are being attacked more than you deserve.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
No shampoo?
While wandering around the internet the other day, dodging CommenTrolls and other fearsome WeBeasts, I found an article extolling the virtues of life without shampoo (here it is). Since it is the summer and I therefore have nothing to lose I figure I should should give it a month's test run, documenting my hair's progress along the way. This morning was the official last usage of my rapidly depleting Garnier Fructis shampoo and hopefully it all works out.
Wish me luck!
Wish me luck!
Monday, July 25, 2011
Housing
Recently I have started to understand something about my mother.
When I was very young, living in the bad part of town because it was closer to the hospital, my family lived in an apartment. It was a nice apartment with a great fireplace, plenty of room for our small three person family, and we even had the advantage of living on the ground floor because of my father's wheelchair bound state at the time. However, as soon as my father got on the crutches and my mother got settled into her new job she started to clamor for a house of her own. With a backyard. And a garden. Those were the important parts. I, being four, was reluctant. I had friends in the apartments; I was comfortable there. Most importantly, the complex had a pool. But my mother wanted her garden, so we moved to the other side of town.
I had never understood before why she wanted a garden so badly. Sure she liked plants, our house has always been full of tropical vines winding around the dining room, giant "elephant ears" that would never fit through the door way if we tried to move them at their present, advanced state. Now, in the middle of this cramped city she grew up in, I can understand.
My family's house here is uncommonly nice; it's all cinder-block and concrete but the furniture is as expensive as can be expected in a city where the storm drains regularly fail and ground floors are flooded. I'm even using the family WiFi. The problem is: everyone lives here. This house, in the U.S. would probably hold a family of four, maybe five, comfortably. Here, the entire extended family (except mine) lives in the same house. The problem is not even that it's cramped (which it isn't); the problem is that it doesn't really definitively belong to anyone. No one in the family really owns the entire house, it's like a commune without all of the creepy breeding tactics or nudity. Most importantly, there is no backyard. In local commercials here the average family is seen in a house that would not be out of place in suburban America but the truth is that houses like that can't be found in any places other than those of the fabulously wealthy. A garden is so out of place here because most people can't afford to buy the extra land if they aren't even going to live on it.
At home I always thought that my mother's dream was uncommonly small, not ambitious enough but when compared my life at home seems incredibly lucky.
When I was very young, living in the bad part of town because it was closer to the hospital, my family lived in an apartment. It was a nice apartment with a great fireplace, plenty of room for our small three person family, and we even had the advantage of living on the ground floor because of my father's wheelchair bound state at the time. However, as soon as my father got on the crutches and my mother got settled into her new job she started to clamor for a house of her own. With a backyard. And a garden. Those were the important parts. I, being four, was reluctant. I had friends in the apartments; I was comfortable there. Most importantly, the complex had a pool. But my mother wanted her garden, so we moved to the other side of town.
I had never understood before why she wanted a garden so badly. Sure she liked plants, our house has always been full of tropical vines winding around the dining room, giant "elephant ears" that would never fit through the door way if we tried to move them at their present, advanced state. Now, in the middle of this cramped city she grew up in, I can understand.
My family's house here is uncommonly nice; it's all cinder-block and concrete but the furniture is as expensive as can be expected in a city where the storm drains regularly fail and ground floors are flooded. I'm even using the family WiFi. The problem is: everyone lives here. This house, in the U.S. would probably hold a family of four, maybe five, comfortably. Here, the entire extended family (except mine) lives in the same house. The problem is not even that it's cramped (which it isn't); the problem is that it doesn't really definitively belong to anyone. No one in the family really owns the entire house, it's like a commune without all of the creepy breeding tactics or nudity. Most importantly, there is no backyard. In local commercials here the average family is seen in a house that would not be out of place in suburban America but the truth is that houses like that can't be found in any places other than those of the fabulously wealthy. A garden is so out of place here because most people can't afford to buy the extra land if they aren't even going to live on it.
At home I always thought that my mother's dream was uncommonly small, not ambitious enough but when compared my life at home seems incredibly lucky.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Hemingway in the Rain
I have recently developed a crippling addiction to StumbleUpon and now waste more time giggling at funny pictures and anecdotes than anyone, I mean anyone, ever should.
Today I "Stumbled" into a list of the "Top English Language Fiction of the Twentieth Century", supposedly compiled by Stanford. It was a list of books that are, frankly, mostly the type of book that is so boring that the reader is left feeling as if only they were smarter they might have understood and enjoyed it more and therefore walk away gushing about the complexities and nuances while in reality not understanding them at all. To be fair they did have a few jewels in there like The Handmaids Tale by Margaret Atwood (my all time favorite author), Winnie the Pooh, Watership Down, Corelli's Mandolin, everything George Orwell has ever written, and Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver. However, I was hugely disappointed to see the disgusting abundance of James Joyce and Ernest Hemingway littering the top ten with their pretentious rambling (fine, I'm a hypocrite, sue me).
Take it from someone who can understand them, they're not worth it. What is the point of fiction? To entertain. True it is often used to project the author's views on society but the central focus should always be to entertain. Now I challenge anyone to try and make it through an entire volume of Hemingway without wanting to shoot him yourself by the time you are finished. If you manage it then you are a more patient soul than I.
Today I "Stumbled" into a list of the "Top English Language Fiction of the Twentieth Century", supposedly compiled by Stanford. It was a list of books that are, frankly, mostly the type of book that is so boring that the reader is left feeling as if only they were smarter they might have understood and enjoyed it more and therefore walk away gushing about the complexities and nuances while in reality not understanding them at all. To be fair they did have a few jewels in there like The Handmaids Tale by Margaret Atwood (my all time favorite author), Winnie the Pooh, Watership Down, Corelli's Mandolin, everything George Orwell has ever written, and Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver. However, I was hugely disappointed to see the disgusting abundance of James Joyce and Ernest Hemingway littering the top ten with their pretentious rambling (fine, I'm a hypocrite, sue me).
Take it from someone who can understand them, they're not worth it. What is the point of fiction? To entertain. True it is often used to project the author's views on society but the central focus should always be to entertain. Now I challenge anyone to try and make it through an entire volume of Hemingway without wanting to shoot him yourself by the time you are finished. If you manage it then you are a more patient soul than I.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
I'm Feelin' Weepy
Since I am leaving for the Philippines on Saturday and my Best Friend is set to leave for Hungary right before I get back and just left for Seiku for the week, today was most likely the last time I will see her for a year (unless my mother actually pulls through and we go to visit her during spring break).
When we were little we always used to talk about how strange it would be to live so far away that to talk to her face to face would take more than a couple blocks walk and now it's happening about eight years before we had anticipated (assuming we were to go to college together and get our first studio apartment together (yes, I still have the floor plan we made in 5th grade)). So as she was leaving we hugged super awkwardly (neither of us are people who hug very often, maybe it's because we developed most of our aversions together) and I'm still sort of teary eyed.
Love, love, love that girl. Definitely going to miss her the most.
When we were little we always used to talk about how strange it would be to live so far away that to talk to her face to face would take more than a couple blocks walk and now it's happening about eight years before we had anticipated (assuming we were to go to college together and get our first studio apartment together (yes, I still have the floor plan we made in 5th grade)). So as she was leaving we hugged super awkwardly (neither of us are people who hug very often, maybe it's because we developed most of our aversions together) and I'm still sort of teary eyed.
Love, love, love that girl. Definitely going to miss her the most.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
What I'm Watching Right Now
My friend sent me this video link and while I'm still signed on I thought my hordes of imaginary adoring fans should check it out. (It's about Glee).
Bad Habit
I have this horribly bad habit of reading the comments at the bottom of the news stories I read.
Just now I was reading an article about the BBC which, in the comments, turned into an argument about how the liberal news networks have been pushing lies to the public with such "europhile" tactics as giving all distances in kilometers and treating global warming as a real, current news issue.
So liberals are horrible people for telling the truth and using local measurement systems instead of a confusing, outdated system that is only really used in one country?
Well I guess I'm glad that those seem to be the worst of our problems. I'd hate for my political beliefs to be associated with baby killing... oh wait, never mind.
Just now I was reading an article about the BBC which, in the comments, turned into an argument about how the liberal news networks have been pushing lies to the public with such "europhile" tactics as giving all distances in kilometers and treating global warming as a real, current news issue.
So liberals are horrible people for telling the truth and using local measurement systems instead of a confusing, outdated system that is only really used in one country?
Well I guess I'm glad that those seem to be the worst of our problems. I'd hate for my political beliefs to be associated with baby killing... oh wait, never mind.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Drama Drama
After the nightmare that was this afternoon I came home from my college classes to even more irrationalities. This time in reaction to the consequences with the fight with my dad (Did I really expect to get out of this without being grounded? No. Was I right? Yes.).
This has been bugging me a for a while. Why do some people just go along taking what comes and absorbing it, not taking it personally, maybe hurting inside but never vocalizing it? Why do others take everything as an affront to themselves, squalling when they assume they have been wronged?
Maybe I'm being harsh. I'll put it less personally. Why do some people bottle it all in (disregarding all the school counselors who insist it's unhealthy ) and why do other people wear their hearts on their sleeves?
I've never had any patience with the latter. It's honestly not like I go about my day wondering what I should do in this master plan to hurt the people I care about. I'm way too self absorbed, I am on a blog for goodness sakes. Am I really the only person in my social circle who assumes that other people do things for their own personal reasons that have nothing to do with me? Am I wrong? Has everyone else been orchestrating an elaborate plan to stress me to such a high degree that my head will actually burst out through my eardrums? If so, it's working.
Wow, here I am whining while the leader of one of the largest terrorist groups in the world has just died. It's big news but it's not going to change anything. Not here, in my corner of the United States and not even the rest of the world. I am going to keep going, and the Taliban is going to keep going. Did we really think this was it? It's over just like that? Not a chance.
This has been bugging me a for a while. Why do some people just go along taking what comes and absorbing it, not taking it personally, maybe hurting inside but never vocalizing it? Why do others take everything as an affront to themselves, squalling when they assume they have been wronged?
Maybe I'm being harsh. I'll put it less personally. Why do some people bottle it all in (disregarding all the school counselors who insist it's unhealthy ) and why do other people wear their hearts on their sleeves?
I've never had any patience with the latter. It's honestly not like I go about my day wondering what I should do in this master plan to hurt the people I care about. I'm way too self absorbed, I am on a blog for goodness sakes. Am I really the only person in my social circle who assumes that other people do things for their own personal reasons that have nothing to do with me? Am I wrong? Has everyone else been orchestrating an elaborate plan to stress me to such a high degree that my head will actually burst out through my eardrums? If so, it's working.
Wow, here I am whining while the leader of one of the largest terrorist groups in the world has just died. It's big news but it's not going to change anything. Not here, in my corner of the United States and not even the rest of the world. I am going to keep going, and the Taliban is going to keep going. Did we really think this was it? It's over just like that? Not a chance.
Head Colds
Have you every gotten really angry?
Like with your face turning red, hair flying, tears streaming down your face , and the words coming out so fast that you choke on them?
Have you had to cough so hard afterward from the shear force of your words that you felt like you were almost going to throw up?
Have your tears ever made your nose run so much you needed a roll of paper towels once the tissues ran out?
Have you ever wanted to blow your nose so hard it bleeds?
I don't know. I don't think I even have time to have this fight, let alone fix what was wrong.
The worst part is, this afternoon started so great. I completely ACED my AP CompSci test and I was going to treat my dad to ice cream as a late Birthday present (he turned 70 yesterday) and a celebratory snack. It was going to be really great because we haven't kept ice cream in the house since his heart attack last February.
Then this had to happen.
Awesome, another potentially productive afternoon down the drain where all I want to do now is curl up in a corner of my bed and sob some more. But, as I mentioned before, there is no way I have enough time for a frivolity like that. I'll be so glad when summer comes.
Like with your face turning red, hair flying, tears streaming down your face , and the words coming out so fast that you choke on them?
Have you had to cough so hard afterward from the shear force of your words that you felt like you were almost going to throw up?
Have your tears ever made your nose run so much you needed a roll of paper towels once the tissues ran out?
Have you ever wanted to blow your nose so hard it bleeds?
I don't know. I don't think I even have time to have this fight, let alone fix what was wrong.
The worst part is, this afternoon started so great. I completely ACED my AP CompSci test and I was going to treat my dad to ice cream as a late Birthday present (he turned 70 yesterday) and a celebratory snack. It was going to be really great because we haven't kept ice cream in the house since his heart attack last February.
Then this had to happen.
Awesome, another potentially productive afternoon down the drain where all I want to do now is curl up in a corner of my bed and sob some more. But, as I mentioned before, there is no way I have enough time for a frivolity like that. I'll be so glad when summer comes.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Letters
Today, I received conclusive proof that I am awesome.
My highschool guidance counselor called me down to her office and gave me a letter from College Board (here is a link) informing me that I am a contestant for the National Merit scholarship. That means I am one of 20,000 who got this out of the 1.5 million who took the PSAT. The light bulb of my future has received a new filament.
My highschool guidance counselor called me down to her office and gave me a letter from College Board (here is a link) informing me that I am a contestant for the National Merit scholarship. That means I am one of 20,000 who got this out of the 1.5 million who took the PSAT. The light bulb of my future has received a new filament.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Royal me
The morning show of my favorite local radio station hands out, in lieu of actual prizes, an "Imaginary Crown of Excellence" to those who text in to their trivia questions. In the hour or so I spend in the car every morning, waiting for school to start, I have gotten into the habit of texting in what I think is the answer. It's got all the thrill of lottery scratch cards but with out the expense plus the added bonus of being legal for those of us who are under eighteen.
I am wearing my imaginary crown right now. It's made of cookies, and I am pretending to eat it. Maybe I'll post a sketch later.
I am wearing my imaginary crown right now. It's made of cookies, and I am pretending to eat it. Maybe I'll post a sketch later.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Gotta get down on Sunday!
Today I realized that I am the type of girl who spends at least an hour at church every week.
Making eyes at the cute altar boy.
Making eyes at the cute altar boy.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Local
Last night I went out, with my friend, to go see a few guys from school perform at a local venue. I hadn't seen them play since last year's school talent show but they're getting pretty good, like "give 'em a couple years and they have a good chance of getting signed" good. All of my zero amount of followers should go check them out at ... http://www.facebook.com/homelessmanband .
On a semi-unrelated note, while walking to the concert, a stranger yelled out that he thought I was "pretty hot." Crude, rude, but still effective at boosting my ego a bit. All in all a pretty successful Friday night.
On a semi-unrelated note, while walking to the concert, a stranger yelled out that he thought I was "pretty hot." Crude, rude, but still effective at boosting my ego a bit. All in all a pretty successful Friday night.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
This time last year I was interesting. I wasn't sitting in bed, streaming 5 year old TV shows on my laptop, waiting to go out and pay money for a movie I'm not even particularly excited about. I was out doing things, seeing things. I was the one making witty facebook posts about strange grocery items, not glumly reading about everyone else's college tours while I wait for Zumba class to start. I was haggling with flea market entrepreneurs for a scarf I later noticed was "Made in Thailand". I was wandering around the Prado, standing on tiptoe to see H. Bosch's "Garden". That was where I bought this postcard of one of my favorite paintings. It's by El Greco and is called Fábula, referring to the flame that middle figure is holding. I love this picture, it is wonderful. I never have been one for beautiful people, flawless skin, perfect symmetry. The man in the red hat has atrocious teeth, the person holding the flame seems albino, and the one on the far left is, well, positively ape-like. I like it because of the fire, drawing in all three to the flickering light, outshining all of them.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
I say, "Blame the pork rinds!"
As I sit here in my pantry, pretending to be folding laundry, I have to ask myself, "What makes me special?". This isn't some random existential phase us hermits have every couple weeks, this is a real, truly worrying crisis. While scrolling through lists of scholarships I was struck by the fact that no matter how much of an oddball I may truly be, I am simply not special enough for the powers-that-be (and grant money) to notice. Since my half a million dollar inheritance/college fund suffered greatly from the recession (it now comes to about $17,000) and college tuition is still ever rising, I am in great need of that cash. I am not left handed. I am not a member of the Presbyterian Church of Winthrop. I am not a Beef Ambassador, a twin, an accomplished duck caller, or any of the other number of scholarship and grant requirements I have come across.
Enough of this pessimism! I am special. I know it. Now what do I do with it?
I am of the female persuasion with no plan to change.
I listen to copious amounts of folk music.
Science fiction makes me happy.
I am an attendee of a good high school.
I can fry a mean crepe with caramelized bananas on top.
I come from a fairly erudite family (as my knowledge of the word 'erudite' and my semi-spectacular PSAT scores can attest to)
The area beneath my bed is littered with a veritable bookstore of half read novels and discarded writing supplies.
I am Filipino-American which is technically a minority, although not a small one.
My father is a 69 year old, disabled, Vietnam veteran who dropped out of one of the colleges I am considering.
The last isn't really about me but I'm still squeezing it for all the money it is worth. Either way I need more than that sparse list to fund my way through today's overpriced school system. What happened to my bright and shiny underclassman delusions of clubs joined, teachers sucked up to, and general scholastic superiority? I have become sedentary in my cocoon of ignorance with my movies, 'light' novels, potato chips, and fried pig skins. Maybe Swing Club really is my ticket to financial happiness. Who knows? All I can really say is that I refuse to believe that I am doomed to a life of community colleges with a minimum wage job at QFC, so the powers-that-be can just shut up because I can be pretentious too.
Enough of this pessimism! I am special. I know it. Now what do I do with it?
I am of the female persuasion with no plan to change.
I listen to copious amounts of folk music.
Science fiction makes me happy.
I am an attendee of a good high school.
I can fry a mean crepe with caramelized bananas on top.
I come from a fairly erudite family (as my knowledge of the word 'erudite' and my semi-spectacular PSAT scores can attest to)
The area beneath my bed is littered with a veritable bookstore of half read novels and discarded writing supplies.
I am Filipino-American which is technically a minority, although not a small one.
My father is a 69 year old, disabled, Vietnam veteran who dropped out of one of the colleges I am considering.
The last isn't really about me but I'm still squeezing it for all the money it is worth. Either way I need more than that sparse list to fund my way through today's overpriced school system. What happened to my bright and shiny underclassman delusions of clubs joined, teachers sucked up to, and general scholastic superiority? I have become sedentary in my cocoon of ignorance with my movies, 'light' novels, potato chips, and fried pig skins. Maybe Swing Club really is my ticket to financial happiness. Who knows? All I can really say is that I refuse to believe that I am doomed to a life of community colleges with a minimum wage job at QFC, so the powers-that-be can just shut up because I can be pretentious too.
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