Saints V Colts

If only people came with rules like football. I want 6 time outs per game, clearly defined rules and a ref to assign penalties. "Illegal self-absorption. Replay 1st Date" "Purposeful obfuscation. 15 yd penalty". And it's def time for someone else to take the field, I'm tired of playing both ways all the time. I mean, seriously, why must I be defense, offense, and special teams.
In other, less sports metaphorical news, MY LAPTOP IS BACK. Hopefully, I'll have something real to post in the next day or 2. Until then, I'll leave you on standby while I try to sort out the fact that every man in my life is being stupid at the same time.
(Kyle suggests I switch teams, and try for women, my response: "Women are even crazier than men, which is why I don't date them anymore". Sad, but accurate. Most of my gender is populated by people who can't be straightforward. FML.)

Hiatus

As you may have noticed, I've fallen off the world a bit. I had lots of grand ideas, and I really do want to get to them all. Unfortunately, technology is conspiring against me. My laptop is in a sad state, despite my earlier reformat, and I had to send it off to have it's motherboard and DC jack repaired. I'm currently using my mom's laptop when it's available. My camera cable is MIA, so I can't upload pics. And my new flip has to be sent home to it's maker to be fixed also.
When my various bits and pieces get sorted out, I'll be able to embark on a new, more focused blog where I'll post videos and pictures and lots of art.
Until then, I'll probably be more or less invisible, and I'll be cleaning, knitting, painting and snowboarding (Quechee mountain this weekend). Oh, and working. Yeah, that job thing. And taking classes! I signed up for a class on drawing graphic novels and one on ceramics starting next week. Should be excellent.

Anger!

I'm super ticked off right now. I got a new flip ultra hd for xmas, and today, I tried to record some art journal stuff so I could post my first video after the new year. Unfortunately, my camera was low on batteries. So, I plugged it in to my laptop to charge. (like my other camera, when you plug it in, it auto opens it's software). So about an hour and a half later, I push the little eject icon like I would for my ipod, then unplug it. When I then tried to turn it on, nothing happened. So I plugged it back into my laptop, which no longer recognizes it at all. Well, fmylife. So I go hunting through the flip website for something helpful, only to learn that the eject icon is not actually enough. Just because the software no longer sees your camera, it's not safe to remove it. You must close the software and "safely remove hardware" in my computer. Otherwise, you risk permanently corrupting the camera. Good to know, now that I've done it. Why the fuck would you put in an eject button if it doesn't eject the camera? Just so I'll be fucked? I've emailed their tech support and supposedly they'll get back to me within 24 hours. Which is dandy, except I'd kinda like the camera to work on New Years Eve. And oh yeah, now, when I was trying to use it. Sometimes, I hate technology.

Wow

No, seriously. This is epic. And brilliant. And perfectly executed. I'm in love. Go. Now. Why are you still reading this, and not downloading Blame it on the Pop?

thnks fr th mmrs

Do you remember when we went out in any weather, pretended to be wizards and stayed up all night. When glitter and top hats and tutus were worn without reason, or concern for what anyone else might say? When pajamas were selected for snugglyness and excellent patterns, not for how sexy someone else would think you looked in them? And everything else was to? What happened to that? Where did those people go? Who stole my magic? I keep trying to blame it on external forces, but the truth is, I did it to myself. Slowly, I let other people tell me who to be and where to go and what to do and what to want. I bet you did too. I ignored myself long enough, hoping I'd just go away and be left with who I was "supposed" to be. But that is so not happening. Normally, when I realize that this is what I've done to myself, and why I'm so unhappy, I get angry and decide to basically tell everyone to go fuck themselves, but in the morning, I can't actually tell my mom to bug off, so I slip back into my old pattern. This time, I'm going to try a different approach. Slower. I'm going to buy a video camera and make art and try to work on writing a book. We'll see.

First Snow

Outside my window, soft, not as cold as it seems it should be. The world is subsumed, hard edges of reality softened and melted into white rounds. Wind defeats gravity and retrieves deposited powder, lifts it into swirls and billows that obscure the streetlight. The day was darkly grey, but the night is bright, refracting, reflecting, amplifying ambient light to create a silvered illumination to rival the sun and dwarf the hidden moon. If only everything could be this beautiful forever, empty chill world drawing me to walk forever, rediscover the infinite in the landscape I trudge through daily. But in the morning, modernity will eclipse beauty, and society will choose convenience over magic. My shrill alarm will wake me to a world ravaged by plows, footprints, salt, and noise. The grey asphalt will be uncovered, and noises of life will resume. The neighbor's angry dog will warn the snow away, cars will burst through the slush in their hurry to resume normalcy. Tonight's perfect hush and blissful white will be muddied, muddled and shoveled aside. And I will worry about waterproofing and warmth and productivity, forgetting what is revealed every first snow, leaving this serenity for the comforting weight of the expected. Tonight's joy will be erased in the necessary tasks of the day, and I will bundle and grouse about the inconvenience and cold with everyone else. But for now, the snow is a miracle. Glory and magic and possibilities. If the world can bring this, anything must be possible, even probable.
And if I had snowboots and my mom wouldn't be difficult, I'd go explore. Alas, there is no traying party to create, no golf course to disappear into. So I guess I'll just dream and sleep and wish.

Enough is enough

Ok, look. I love Snape. I think he's hilarious and awesome, and frankly, Alan Rickman could read the telephone book and make it sexy. But some people are taking this shit a bit too far, this was on today's texts from last night:
(201): My friend is getting herself a tramp stamp that says "property of the half blood prince".
Unlike the girl a few weeks ago getting tattooed with the Boondock Saints' prayer, this is just sad. No awesomeness. 1st off, the saints' prayer is awesome in and of itself, (So we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be - a thousand times better than hail Mary full of grace) and secondly, it does not say you are property of a fictional character. Unlike books, people are not property. I get the reference. It's not like I don't understand. Unfortunately, this is one of those things where the more you get it, the more pathetic your tattoo becomes. Well, I suppose, there's a moment of improvement when someone realizes that the half-blood prince is Snape and not Potter, but many people won't even get that far. So you're getting a tramp stamp which announces you as property of a fictional character and where many people will incorrectly assume said character is an annoying 17 yr old emo boy. One day, when you are 50 (actually, probably long before then) you will massively regret this.