tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21619756630511842962024-02-19T08:42:20.086-05:00Blonde SavantSmarter Than Your Average DitzNapoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.comBlogger175125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-21694669927181266962011-04-07T13:42:00.002-04:002011-04-07T13:50:54.881-04:00They Only Have to Hit You OnceTo fully appreciate this story, you need to know a little about my dad. He's five foot three, Texan, and out of his damn mind. His nickname is Yosemite Sam, based on his penchant for muttering under his breath then breaking into loud cursing, and for his unfortunate facial hair choices. Plus, there's the gun thing (I did say Texan). He actually shot himself in the foot. <i>Recently.</i><br />One of my dad's...hobbies, I guess you could say, is hunting rattlesnakes. He likes to catch them and make belts and hat bands and wallets made out of the skin. Like you do.<br />When I was around nine or ten...actually I may have been older. Sometime between age ten and fifteen. My dad took me, my brother Brian, my stepmom Toni, my aunt Linda and my cousin Danny on a camping trip somewhere in Kern County. We'd been there a few days, long enough that Dad had already caught a rattlesnake. Brian, Danny and I woke up early and wanted to go exploring. Linda was still sleeping off the night before, so my dad gave us the go ahead (Linda never would have let Danny go, she was way over protective).<br />The three of us set out up the nearby creek that ran down a pass between two mountains, strolling through the cold water and hopping from rock to rock. We hiked for a few hours, stopping to explore deep pools and catch salamanders. Once we got hungry, we unpacked our snacks and picnicked on some boulders, looking up at the mountains around us. As we were finishing up, one of us (I forget who) declared that they had seen a mountain lion on the top of the hill to our left. You don't take chances with that kind of thing, so up the hill to the right we went. We hiked about halfway up the hill and then started to make our way back to the campsite. We were up away from the cool water of the creek and quickly became hot and miserable, so we picked up our pace and in about an hour we were up on the hill behind our campsite, looking down on Dad, Toni and Linda, all of whom appeared to be freaking the fuck out. Dad was cursing and throwing things around while Linda and Toni were packing things into the trucks.<br />The three of us looked at each other and as one started running down the hill even though it was precariously steep. Once we reached the bottom, we all went into emergency mode. We'd had plenty of practice with the dad we grew up with. I managed to sync my packing up with Toni's and asked her, "What did he do?"<br />"Your idiot father got himself bit by that rattlesnake. Dumbass!" That last was directed at Dad.<br />"Hey, it's not my fault!" he responded.<br />"What the hell did you think would happen? You were playing with the damn thing and you're drunk."<br />"I was not <i>playing</i> with it, woman! I was <i>boxing</i> with it!"<br /><br />That's right. My dad had decided that it would be fun to take a rattlesnake, set it on the ground in front of him, and whap it on the head with his fist. To see who was faster. He lost.Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-43770109964381257312011-02-15T15:20:00.000-05:002011-02-15T15:25:03.385-05:00Easy as One, Two, ThreeI'm not sure that I want to post this. It's some pretty personal stuff that I'm not sure I feel entirely comfortable sharing in a public way. But I'm also not one to shy away from something out of fear. I do know that I need to write this all out. If you want to stick around and read, let me warn you. This is not funny stuff here. This is just me working things out.<br />Apparently I have anxiety. I probably knew that I did, somewhere in the back of my mind. Especially since I have a psych degree, after all. But my excuse for that is I focused on evolutionary and cognitive psychology. Now that I'm confronted with the fact, it's so obvious that I have anxiety. I have constant nervous behaviors (cracking knuckles, fiddling with my hair, tapping my feet, drumming my fingers, biting my lips, etc). And then there is what goes on inside my head. I overanalyze everything, to such a degree that I will have entire fictional conversations in my head based on an offhand comment.<br />I've always considered myself a fast thinker, joking that my hands can't keep up with my brain to explain my poor handwriting and typo-riddled typing. Is that part of my anxiety? Is that something I'll lose when my meds start to really work? I don't want to slow down my thoughts, I just want them to be more productive and let me focus on important things instead of reliving a conversation from two years ago and thinking about the things I wish I could have said.<br />I also wonder how much it will affect my memory. I've also always had a poor memory. I suspect that I have a short-term memory deficiency, but I've never been able to empirically confirm that. Most short-term memory tests utilize pattern memorization, which is something I'm quite good at, so getting an accurate assessment of my actual memory forming abilities is tricky. I do know from experience that I have a very hard time correlating events with when they happened. I can't say off the top of my head what year I graduated from college. I have to do the math, and even then I'm not positive. I can't tell you which year I moved to Florida, but I can tell you that I've lived here for a little over two years. But that sounds wrong to me, because I moved here in either September or November (that's another issue I have; keeping the months straight) so I've had three Christmases here and it feels more natural to say I've lived here for three years.<br />Are my issues with memory and time something that will be aided by medication? If so, I would welcome it. My life wouldn't be as entertaining, but I would be a lot more organized and functional.<br />It's not very likely that will happen though, since I'm pretty sure that I have mild dyscalculia and I'm equally sure that's unrelated to anxiety. I joke a lot about how I'm terrible at math, but the truth goes deeper than that. I can do quite well with algebra, because that is logic based. Any other math activities, like calculus or percentages or doing math in my head or even telling time on an analog clock just do not happen in my brain. I've tried to learn them over and over and they just do not make sense to me. I have never been able to do even simple addition or subtraction in my head. I have to use my fingers as an adult, which is beyond embarrassing. I've developed a very discrete way of doing it if I'm forced to in public, but if you watch closely you can see it. I can do most calculations if I'm given a pen and paper, but if you listen to what I say and compare it to what I write, nothing makes sense. I'll say "seven minus four" out loud, but I'll write "9 - 5" and either one of those can match what I'm supposed to be doing. Or not. Word problems are my nemesis.Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-51088635664776719052011-02-08T06:02:00.003-05:002011-02-08T06:23:16.829-05:00So last week I fell in the cafe at my work. Yes, I know you're absolutely shocked. This wasn't you're run-of-the-mill fall though, I managed to fall spectacularly in front of at least half of the "Response Team," the ones who help out during an emergency and are all Red Cross trained. Paired with the fact that I actually hurt myself a fair bit, there was no laughing it off. I did draw the line when they tried to get me into a wheelchair though. That was just excessive. <div>I spent the rest of the day icing my ankle, which I was concerned about because of how many times I've managed to sprain it before. I had already been feeling achy in general, and this fall situation certainly didn't help. Some medicinal wine when I got home did though. The next day, my ankle felt fine, but the rest of my body was in a fair bit of pain. At least it was Friday and I didn't have to hobble around in heels. </div><div>I was in enough pain to look into the side effects of my new medications, and sure enough joint pain was listed highly for the stuff I had for RLS. So I called the doctor and we're going to reevaluate. Super. Then I read this: </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size: 12px; "> </span> <span class="Apple-style-span" >You should know that some people who took medications such as ropinirole developed <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>gambling problems or other intense urges or behaviors that were compulsive or unusual for <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>them.</span></span></div><div>Fantastic. I already think gambling's a little ridiculous and only fun if I'm playing poker with fake money. Were I to develop a gambling addiction, I would be pissed. I've already got a touch of OCD, I don't need it exacerbated, thanks. </div><div>My joint pain finally subsided enough for me to get back into my running program yesterday, which I really wanted to do because I was cranky as hell and needed an outlet. I got about halfway before my knee (opposite leg from the ankle I was worried about) decided to tell me to fuck off with this nonsense. Looks like that's what I should have been icing after that fall instead of the ankle. So now I get to go try and find a knee brace that will fit on my short little leg. </div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-8486809351352480252011-01-29T13:11:00.006-05:002011-01-29T14:27:48.893-05:00Growing Pains<div style="text-align: left;">One of Mama's favorite stories to tell about me is from when she ran a daycare at home. There were always tons of other kids around. I was something of a ringleader and trouble maker, since I knew where all of the especially exciting areas of the yard were, like the <a href="http://blondesavant.blogspot.com/2007/03/precious-memories.html">Aqueduct of Doom</a>. One day, a social worker was over doing some official observation type activity and Mama was sitting on the porch with her and talking while we played on the swing-set in the yard below. Our swing-set was one of those big wooden contraptions that had a bench swing and monkey bars and a fort and a slide. I had personally climbed over every inch of it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>That day I must have been bored with the normal attempt to swing over the bar or swing the bench hard enough to knock the whole thing over (which we never did accomplish). As Mama tells it, "I saw you bent over and dragging something, very intent on what you were doing and ignoring the other kids. I knew whatever it was would be bad, so I got up to stop you. The social worker put her hand on my arm and said,'Let's see what she's doing,' so I watched you for a minute. You started climbing the ladder for the slide, trying to drag whatever you had up behind you. I couldn't see what it was and I was getting nervous, so I headed over, the social worker protesting the whole time that this was fascinating and not to stop you. Good thing I didn't listen to her, because what you had was a big wheeler that you were hell bent on riding down the slide. I think you were four."</div><div><br /></div><div>I've always been a fearless person when it comes to adventures. No, wait, that's not exactly right. Not fearless, not really. I still feel the fear, that heady rush of adrenaline that dilates your pupils and makes the blood pound in your ears and throat and makes your breath quicken. That flight-or-fight response is there. I just always choose fight.</div><div><br /></div><div>The first clear memory I have of that intoxicating feeling is from when I was around 12 or 13 and camping in King's Canyon with Mama and Brian, my brother. There was a part of the nearby river nicknamed Party Rock and we went to investigate. Party Rock turned out to be a huge boulder that dropped straight down into a deep pool in the river. A bit of a crowd was hanging out and partying around the pool (hence the name) and taking turns daring each other to jump off the rock into the nearly freezing river below. After taking this all in, I remember that my brother and I just looked at each other, the challenge readable in our eyes, and raced for the top of the rock. At the top, we both paused to take in what we now faced: a twenty foot drop into icy cold water of unknown depth, but crystal clear enough to see the rocks that made up the riverbed. We shared another look, this time pure joy and anticipation<span class="Apple-style-span" > </span>on our faces, and leaped off the rock into the waiting river. The shock of the cold water burned my skin and then instantly froze it behind the burn. The breath was completely knocked out of me by the shock and my eyes flew open to take in the most amazing sight of my life. I could see clearly under the water. For someone who can barely see four inches past her own nose without glasses, the clear lines and bold colors of each rock and tiny pebble several feet away from me was beyond amazing. I didn't want to come back up to the surface, but the need for air drove me up and then the cold drove me out of the water. As the sun warmed my skin and feeling returned, I began to shiver. My brother looked at me questioningly; he had gotten out of the water as fast as possible. I simply said, "I could <i>see</i>," and began to climb up to the top of the rock again.</div><div>He followed me, grinning. </div><div><br /></div><div>A recent comment thread on <a href="http://www.angryblacklady.com/">Imani's</a> wall served to remind me that I did not have the most normal of childhoods, even though it seemed so while I lived it. I called Brian to share and remember and laugh over it with him. Our neighbors growing up were four boys who all owned BB and pellet guns. They lived in two story house with a pool and a trampoline. They also constructed a water slide made out of industrial sized PVC pipe. After I recounted to Brian how people were shocked that I lived through jumping off of a two-story roof onto a trampoline or into a pool or firing pellet guns or riding razor scooters down the pool slide, or any and all combinations thereof, he laughed and said, "Hell, that sounds like a weekend." The two of us have always had shared love of adventure and thrill-seeking. We were forever looking for the next challenge, the next rush of adrenaline.</div><div><br /></div><div>One day when I was in college in Santa Barbara, I was walking on the pier with one of my roommates. I made an offhand comment that I was a little sad that it was winter and so cold, because I had a very strong urge to jump off the pier. My roommate laughed nervously and changed the subject. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was Brian, which was highly unusual at the time. I answered, mentally preparing for bad news. I was confused for a moment by the laughing "Guess what I just did!" that greeted me. </div><div>"Well you obviously didn't break your leg again because you're laughing. Unless they already gave you drugs for it?" </div><div>"Hah! No, I didn't break anything this time."</div><div>"Well then what?"</div><div>"I just jumped off the Huntington Beach pier!" </div><div>I collapsed laughing, still standing on my own pier a few hundred miles north.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have yet to jump off of anything of that great a height, or out of a plane, but I've always been a bit obsessed with heights. It's almost like I have the opposite of a fear of heights. Instead of cringing away from the edge and moving toward safety, my body seems to move closer to the edge of its own accord. I've heard "Sarah, get back from there!" more times than I can count. It's as though I just can't resist that breathless feeling of vertigo, that sense of nearness to danger. It draws me out, every time. I've even had it well up from within while standing at the top of a flight of stairs. I've leaned against the banister, feeling it creak in my hands and listened to the blood rush in my head as I pictured falling to the floor below. </div><div><br /></div><div>Given that, it's no wonder that one of the places I actively sought out in Ireland was the Cliffs of Moher. Everywhere else I went in Ireland was mostly by wandering and going to places someone told me about that sounded fun. The two places I made a point to visit both involved heights (the other was the Blarney Stone). The Cliffs of Moher is one of the most photographed places in the world, and no wonder. Rising straight up out of the tumultuous Atlantic, the 700 foot (200m) high<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(30, 86, 75); "> </span>cliffs make the Cliffs of Insanity look tame. Often shrouded in mist, I was incredibly lucky to see them on a clear, bright day. The feeling I had of standing on the edge of the world is indescribable. I stood behind the low rock wall, meant to keep cows and drunks from bumbling off the cliff, completely transfixed by the sight. </div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVyytl5NM2n7sI4D4PbhZXku6HycHuBZVybMbb-ygPpgrT3CPTt-fmpj6du3hhtC3mYpo2JzpaQUcfKSIsb2Eyj7tRr9O68p63TbWza90L23F84c5Xve1nICL9yGcaO0HSL_EGx15ewK2A/s320/Cliffs+of+Moher1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567677408622535154" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div><div><br /></div><div>Then a crow cawed near me and brought me back into my body. </div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9mtm6iiFvGIpXJ1JUxZCgNYJihCrrnrQMAHoE0A836aa6HWnwwet8jJzXiacpr1HZnRJMu2itWk1FaA3tGZ93YGLA0GAYAZy32HjZT6a5LmALzYr4bkj6br3lYOyZO-7vKw-ixTIDwTOG/s320/Sort+052.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567677413194042322" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; " /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div>My face hurt from smiling, but I couldn't stop. My heart pounding and my hands shaking, </div><div>I stepped over the wall. I felt as though I had crossed more than a physical boundary and time seemed to stop for a moment. Even the crying of the gulls and the pounding of the surf hundreds of feet below paused for just a second. Then sound returned and with it that familiar compulsion.</div><div><i>Closer. Closer. Closer.</i></div><div>I stepped forward, once, twice and leaned forward to look directly down the cliff face. My breath stopped and my heart pounded. It was enough to make even me move back. But that call was not satisfied. </div><div><i>Closer.</i> </div><div>I sat down on the ground to keep myself from stepping forward again. Then I knew what to do. I laid down on my stomach and inched toward the edge, my body shaking. I kept my eyes shut until my shoulders were at the edge of the cliff.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I opened my eyes. </div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaw0ZXv4Bv83OZDDv2T1HEBmPUnxbXNI6sD2Bl4LpStk1HOX5vjGkCkCzSnHoWTWXXwH4GfMEwsrXY4Yp0ZJwE3gqPt5thzT_TvlgvAV3IRSNuSPieKHwuQFTOGdYaSPJjRxdF_kL4yof/s320/Sort+056.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567677415619406786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; " /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-47022421031467218642011-01-13T20:07:00.003-05:002011-01-13T20:19:28.603-05:00New YearIt's one of my few family traditions that at the new year we look back over the past year and pick out the three best and three worst things that we experienced. We go over the worst things first so that we can appreciate the best things all the more. 2010 was a roller coaster year for me; some great things and some really horrible things happened.<br /><br />The three worst things for me in 2010 were:<br />3. I was diagnosed with <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/raynauds-disease/DS00433">Reynaud's Syndrome</a>. This means that even something as simple as drinking a soda or eating cold salami slices or even walking outside when it's chilly brings me pain and discomfort. And I have to wear socks all the time, which I hate. For a while when it was really cold here, I was even sleeping with gloves on because I have a hard time sleeping when the room is warm but my hands freak out if the room is cold. That really wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be though. And really, all things considered, if I had to choose a bizarre medical affliction, I could do a LOT worse.<br /><br />2. I broke up with Ricardo. This was such a long, drawn out breakup that it really wore me down and left me emotionally exhausted for much of the year. Things all started in February and dragged on and on into October. I've gone over things elsewhere, so I'll just say that this had a major negative impact on most of my year.<br /><br />1. I had to put Singe to sleep. Singe was my cat from the day she was born. I was there for it. She was the only black cat in a litter of tabbies. It was love at first sight. She slept with me almost every night once she was old enough to leave Mama Kitty, except one and a half years of college. Last year she developed an autoimmune skin disease, where an aggressive virus was causing her immune system to attack skin cells. She fought hard but the steroid regimen was too much for her. After being together for twelve years, I miss her so much that I can't even let myself think about it for more than two minutes without dissolving into a weeping mess. Like now.<br /><br />The three best things for me in 2010 were:<br />3. I bought a new car. My first completely, 100% new car. Even having the ability to buy a new car is amazing for me. This purchase was also a major step in finishing my breakup, so it has double the symbolic representation for me. I absolutely love the feeling of freedom I get every time I pause and reflect that I have a car that is mine alone and I can go anywhere and do anything I want.<br /><br />2. I spent around three months at the beginning of 2010 in Santa Barbara. Granted, it was for a crazy work project and I was majorly stressed out most of the time I was there. I still got to spend time with good friends and have fun and enjoy California for an extended period of time, which is something I never even thought I would be able to do for many years, if at all. It was bittersweet in the sense that I knew I would never be able to do that again, but that just made me appreciate the time I got to spend back home even more.<br /><br />1. My trip to Texas to meet some amazing <a href="http://www.pajiba.com/">Pajibans</a>. It started out as a bit of a joke, this trip. Then I checked out plane tickets on a whim and found an amazing deal and next thing I knew, I was face to face with some of the most awesome people I've ever met. Pajiban relationships are a strange thing to explain to anyone outside of our crazy little group. But I, for one, will take the trade off of seeming like more of a crazy person than I already am in exchange for this amazing group of friends I have spread out across the country; the world even. I know, without a doubt, that pretty much anywhere I could ever visit has at least one person that I would love to meet and hang out with. Being able to meet a whole bunch of them at the same time and see how similar or different they are in person versus online and have crazy adventures doing the simplest of things and just generally being nerds all over the place wasn't just one of the best things of 2010. I'm sure it's one of the best things of my life.Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-70830982564334447402010-12-09T21:46:00.004-05:002010-12-09T22:09:50.205-05:00Back In The GameI just got back from my first speed dating experience. It was actually a lot more fun that I thought it would be. Of course, there was the token rude guy, and the token fucking awkward guy, and they guy that was way too old to be there, but we'll get to those. <div>I agreed to go mainly to support my friend and because what the hell else am I gonna do on a Thursday night? Plus, it's always fun to get dressed up, and it's really hard to meet anyone between 21 and 30 in this city unless you're in a bar screaming at them over the music. So at the very least, I knew I would meet interesting people. Whether I would be glad I met them...</div><div>Some of them, definitely glad I met. Like the really hot guy who was the only one to offer to buy me a drink when he saw my empty glass. Sadly, I couldn't take him up on that since I was driving. Also glad I met the adorable Russian guy (hello, amazing accent!) who was hilarious and joked about being in the mob in Kansas. Call me! </div><div>But enough about the good, let's get to what you're really here for. The shit talking.</div><div>First of all, who answers their phone in the middle of a date? Especially in speed dating, where you have six minutes per person! So, yeah, phone guy can kiss my ass. </div><div>Then there was the guy who wrote "technical" books, but refused to elaborate because clearly I would never read them. Pretentious douche. Who writes a book about the flavors of rice anyway? And he had a stupid hat. </div><div>Let's see...oh there was the super sweet guy who had just gotten out of college, and was kind of awkward about whatever job he had (I never did get it out of him). Any job is a good job right now, kid. </div><div>But he wasn't nearly as awkward as The Awkward Guy. Oh my god, this guy was ridiculous. He kind of looked like the guy from Legally Blonde, you know the one that Elle goes up to and slaps across the face and pretends to be upset that he never called her after the best pleasure she had ever know? That guy. It's a very good thing that I can babble my head off at the drop of a hat, because that was a challenge, even for me. He seemed to have an inability to say anything beyond "That's interesting" or "I feel the same way." And he was drinking a glass of merlot, but he only took a drink when I did (which was frequently in that little interaction). Mirroring doesn't work when it freaks the fuck out of the person you are mirroring. So. Awkward. It was the longest six minutes of the night. </div><div>He was even more awkward than the guy who just so happened to have a twelve year old. </div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-36347074741795244512010-10-27T22:16:00.004-04:002010-10-27T22:22:17.843-04:00BasketcaseI have really intense, vivid dreams in general. Last night was no exception. I jotted down the bits I could remember before they were lost in the mist so I could look them up in my dream book later. I like to use the dream book for entertainment purposes only, and by no means do I believe anything it says. However. This would freak out the most rational person in the world: <div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><div><span style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Finding something: Loss in business.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Finding valuable article: Big misfortunes in business.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Finding money: Danger and business loss. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Digging in loose soil: Plans will succeed. </span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Others being dirty: Illness in the family.<br /></span></span></span><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Of the marijuana plant: Will be melancholy.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Smoking marijuana: Will dream of unattainable things.</span></span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Eyes being wide open: A change in life will come soon.</span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >The color gray: Will receive a letter with news.</span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Other famous people: Sorrow is about to come.</span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Of a restaurant: Bad health.</span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Eating at a restaurant: Health is not very good.</span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Of cheese: Worry caused by own hasty actions.</span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Of a skirt: Will be lazy.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman'; "> </span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Black iron: Will be cheated by friends. </span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >An empty table: Will fall into poverty.</span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Eating a piece of cake: Will lose sweetheart.</span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Of eating: You are being deceived.</span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Eating on the floor: Somebody will take something away from you.</span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Eating fat things: Warning of an illness to come. </span></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Avoiding danger: Troubles will come to you. </span></div></div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Can I panic now? </span></div></span></div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-24159731108007372292010-10-18T13:13:00.001-04:002010-10-18T13:13:34.345-04:00Been A Long, Lonely TimeAfter five months of no physical contact aside from perfunctory pecks hello and goodbye, and three months of almost no conversation that didn't lead to a fight, I concluded that Ricardo and I should break up. Especially since it was just in February that I already brought up the subject of breaking up.
I told him my thoughts and desire for him to move out on a Sunday a few weeks ago. It led to a discussion of things that he has been upset about with me, but hadn't bothered to talk to me about. Things that he found out by going through my phone or other not nice techniques. I pointed out that he'd never brought any of these things that he was upset about to my attention, instead he just closed himself off from me and punished me for them. He felt particularly bad when I pointed out the lack of contact between us. That night he went about professing his love for me and trying to cuddle me, which was completely not fair and I pointed out how unfair it was for him to basically ignore me for five months and then think that a hug could make everything ok.
The following Monday I came home to a spotless house, Gerber daisies in various locations, even bathed rats. He then started to prepare dinner and got very sidetracked by telling me how he was positive that everything would be ok between us and that he could fix the problems and make things better. Basically everything I wanted to hear. I countered that it's very easy to say you can do something, but these are the same problems we had when I wanted to break up in February, and why were they still problems? At that point he was begging me not to break up, so I ran away and did some laundry and called Teresa. She advised me to sleep on things and Ricardo was thankfully quiet on the subject when I went back to the apartment.
The next day was even worse. He was literally on his knees, crying and pleading with me to stay together. I ended up yelling at him quite a bit and repeating that there was no way I could possibly agree to stay together based on him promising me he can fix these issues. Pressed for time ( I was meeting coworkers for dinner) I told him to focus his crazy energy on actually doing what he was telling me he could do, instead of just repeating it over and over.
So far that's what he's been doing. I know he's on his best behavior though. If it were possible for him to maintain his current behavior...well I just don't think it is. And even if he can, I'm really not sure what I want at this point. It is very tempting to give him another chance and see if we can make this work, especially with how nice he's being now. But the logical side of me wonders how long it will be before these old habits and trust issues crop up again and we end up in the same situation. I don't want to waste any more time on this if we aren't going to work out.Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-39815211540287523182010-07-06T14:49:00.001-04:002010-07-06T14:49:53.674-04:00Hell is Other PeopleI sit next to one of the most annoying creatures to ever exist in a working environment. She's constantly making a ton of noise. She's usually clearing her throat incessantly, tapping her feet on the plastic floor thing under her chair, and banging on her keyboard so hard that it sounds like she's using a typewriter from the 50s. This constant barrage of noise is accentuated by the continuous stream of babble from her mouth. She talks to me, others who sit over here, her emails, her computer, herself...just a stream of vocal diarrhea from the moment she gets here to the moment she leaves. Oh, and of course, she talks on the phone, but it's not really talking so much as screaming at the top of her lungs.
When she does have a question or comment for one of us, it's usually preceded by a long, high-pitched "Uuummmmmmmm". I can't even begin to describe the upwelling of rage I experience every time I hear this noise. It heralds one of the following events:
1. An announcement that she has sent one of us an email. You can imagine how annoying that is seventeen times a day.
2. A question that she will begin in the middle of her train of thought, without any reference to any pertinent information. Like "Have you worked on this before?" without indicating who she's directing the question at or what "this" is supposed to mean.
3. Asking the most asinine questions. The kind where, if she stopped and used her tiny, feeble brain for one second, wouldn't even be a question. Like coming up to me, pointing at the coffee pot and asking if there's any coffee left. I don't know! I can't see through it any more than she can! All I'm going to do is look inside to assess the amount of coffee available, but she can't seem to make that connection.
Even better is when I understand her question and start to answer, only for her to just keep right on talking as though I didn't just tell her the answer in two seconds flat. There are no yes or no questions in her world, so she has to explain every little insignificant detail of every little thing. If I ask her a question on IM because I don't want to listen to her yapping, she walks into my cube to discuss it!
Or she'll pop her head over our shared cube wall, banging her huge wedding band on the metal piece at the top and scaring the bejesus out of me every time, share some inane bit of information that doesn't even apply to me, and close it out with "Just FYI!" but she clearly has no grasp of the meaning if FYI, since she will forward me emails with things I have to do, but type at the top "FYI". WRONG.
Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-33898380031306400232010-03-07T13:32:00.004-05:002010-03-07T13:50:03.331-05:00Book 9: Ceres Storm by David HerterThis book is the complete opposite of the last one I reviewed. This is a perfect example of when the prose gets in the way of the story. <i>Ceres Storm </i>is so full of jargon and convoluted descriptions that I'm not at all clear on most of the plot. <div>There was a boy, who was also his own uncle and grandfather, and the grandfather was a machine who's soul was at one point in a tree, and before that he was the ruler of Earth and Mars. I think. And somehow the boy saves the universe by blowing up Charon, Pluto's moon. A lot of other things happened as well, I just have no idea what they really were. <div>Just to show how hard this book is trying (and that seems to be the main problem to me, it's just trying way too hard), here is a description of a sunset:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span></span><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The afternoon dwindled to a vague silver-blue on his eyelids, to the specks of dust floating in his tears, brittle and translucent, twitching as he turned his eyes left and right, settling for a time while the silver-blue deepened, gained dimension.</span> </span> </blockquote></div><div>That passage is one of the more easily understood things in this novel. I don't have any objection to a novel being a challenge to read. But what has happened here is that the author has pushed the novel out of the realm of enjoyment. Novels that are written in a dense language where every word is fraught with meaning can be a joy to read. This novel is awkward and clunky, like someone got overzealous with a thesaurus. </div></div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-79388784227852705922010-02-23T01:23:00.004-05:002010-02-23T23:35:33.622-05:00Book 8: The Island of the Day Before by Umberto Eco<div>Filled with tangled and twisting plot lines, this novel is a challenge to read, but an incredibly rewarding one. The rich writing style of Eco breaths life and vibrancy into a story that would have left me cold were it written by anyone else. Much shorter than his other novels (especially <i>The Name of the Rose)</i>, <i>The Island of the Day Before </i>is a tightly woven tapestry of intersecting lives, religions, cultures, and even times. </div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">The main story, if one can really be picked out, is the life of Roberto della Griva, a 17th century Italian nobleman. After his ship sinks in a storm, Roberto finds himself floating next to a different, seemingly abandoned ship. Interspersed throughout Roberto's actions aboard the mystery ship are Roberto's memories of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; ">his childhood, the war he fought in, the time he spent in France learning about</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> astronomy and sailing, his mission to find the International Date Line, his loves, and his fears. </span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">This is where Eco's superb ability in storytelling turns this novel from something merely interesting into something spellbinding. Described as an Italian medievalist, semiotician, philosopher, literary critic and novelist <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><a href="http://www.umbertoeco.com/en/curriculum-vitae.html">(He really is just amazing.)</a>, the things that Eco is able to do with words are beyond description. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; ">If you love words for the sheer beauty that they can create, you absolutely must read this novel. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">The thing that sets him apart from other word smiths though, is that Eco maintains a compelling story throughout his amazing wordplay. In one short sentence, Eco tells us, through Roberto, the idea that gave life to this novel:</span></b></span></b></span></b></span></b></span></b></span></b></div><div><div><br /></div><div><i>To survive, we must tell stories."</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div></div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-84199479435964035632010-02-23T00:20:00.005-05:002010-02-23T00:27:39.795-05:00Book 7: Battle Royale by Koushun TakamiI first read this novel when I was traveling around the UK several years ago. I literally did not put it down from the time I opened it until I finished it. Reading it the second time around, I found it just as compelling. If you haven't read it yet, I cannot recommend it enough. <div>The story is fairly dark and twisted. In an alternate version of Japan, middle school students are forced to participate in a murderous version of king-of-the-hill. The children are drugged and transported to an island. When they wake up, they are instructed about the rules of the program and given random weapons. The rules are very simply: kill your classmates, your friends. The last kid standing wins. </div><div>What makes this novel so compelling is the insight into the characters. The writing style is simple, even sparse at points. I find that this accentuates the story incredibly well. The writing doesn't get in the way of what is being conveyed, if that makes sense. Takami provides an incredibly clear and in-depth look into the characters, their motivations, their fears, their <i>selves. </i></div><div>Another reason that I find this novel so compelling is that I'm a psych major. The range of reactions that the students have to the situation that they're thrust into is truly fascinating, even if you've only taken Psych 101. There are characters from all walks of life and each of them reacts in a way that makes sense based on their background and the aspects of their personalities that Takami gives them. </div><div>The other overarching theme is a political one. Through his characters, Takami discusses government corruption, western influence on eastern cultures, rebellion against an oppressive government, as well as active participation and support of an oppressive government. While this confluence of ideas could bash you in the hea<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">d,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">à la</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Margaret </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Atwood, Takami's understated style kept me reading instead of rolling my eyes and sighing that "I </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">get it </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">already."</span></span></span></span></div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-39326510974651670282010-01-17T15:25:00.004-05:002010-01-17T15:32:38.628-05:00Book 6: Rachael and Leah by Orson Scott CardWhen I was growing up, I went to church nearly every day. Our church was a nondenominational Christian church, Calvary Chapel. For the area, it was a pretty progressive church. Our pastor was a former drug addict and frequently used stories from that time in his life when he was giving a sermon. In general though, the members of the church were some of the more hypocritical and judgmental people I have ever known. I have seen how religion can bring out the best in people and how it can give people an excuse to exercise their most vicious tendencies.<div><br />After I was old enough to hold a job, I stopped going to church every day due to the time conflict. And I found that I didn't really miss it. By the time I was a junior in high school, I had concluded that Christianity was not for me. I explored other religions, and while I found that most of them have a lot of good qualities, those good things were usually tied to some sort of subjugation of myself that I found unacceptable. In the end, I never found a religion that fit what I was looking for. I don't feel as though I have something missing in my life, but I do sometimes feel nostalgic for the comfort I got from my church as a child.<br /><br /></div><div>This is where <i>Rachael</i><i> and Leah</i> comes into play. Not many people know that Orson Scott Card is Mormon and has written many religious book and plays, but I am one of those people who falls in love with the way a person writes and goes digging for everything they have ever written. After reading <i>Ender's</i><i> Game</i>, I continued with all of the books in that series, and then I kept going. The more I read, the more I found he had written. When I learned that he had written a series of religious fiction novels, I was apprehensive at first. But I was determined not to judge before I knew what I was talking about, so I picked up <i>Sarah</i>, the first book in his "Women of Genesis" series. The title of the book helped. I kept going and read <i>Rebekah</i> and then <i>Rachael</i><i> and Leah</i>. It is this last novel that is executed the best of the three. Card's straightforward way of telling a story dovetails nicely with this ancient tale of sibling rivalry, love and faith.</div><div><br /></div><div>The story is told from four points of view, the sisters Rachael and Leah, and two girls who end up as handmaids for the sisters. Their observations and interpretations of the events around them give new life to a story that many people know by rote. Card gives the characters motivations that have little to do with religion and more to do with being a young woman in a very strict culture living in a very harsh land. At the beginning of the novel, motherless sisters Rachael and Leah constantly fight and both walk all over their clueless father. When Jacob arrives, his personal faith helps the sisters reconcile and both grow up to become caring women in the seven years that Jacob works for their father.<br /><br /></div><div>The novel ends with the wedding of Leah to Jacob in place of her sister. This is the part of the story that I have the most trouble with. Card has the switch of the sisters play out like a slapstick comedy with Jacob as the butt of the joke. I find that it doesn't really fit with the tone of the rest of the novel. He does stay true to the original story in that Jacob ends up married to both sisters, but I feel that this conclusion could have been reached in a way that did not require Jacob and the father to become complete morons.</div><div><br />Overall though, while it has it's flaws, I find that reading <i>Rachael</i><i> and Leah</i> when I feel nostalgic to be a great comfort. It reminds me of the good that religion can bring out in people, and the positive changes that it can motivate.</div><div><br /></div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-50182287738945421682009-12-13T21:18:00.000-05:002009-12-13T21:20:50.093-05:00Book 5: Dune Prophet by Frank HerbetI have been dreading writing this review. I did not care for this book at all. As an intellectual exercise, it serves a purpose. The universe of the book is well constructed and solid. The style of writing is one that I actually gravitate toward. But as an enjoyable read, for me it fails utterly. Everything had a sort of clinical distance to it, a sort of coldness that made it hard to relate to the characters. This was one of my biggest issues with this book. In the previous book, the characters were more relatable, more human. In this one, it's as though the author is just reporting events that happened with little to no insight into their reasoning or development. Yes, we do get an inner monologue for Paul and Alia, but it is fairly limited to their observations of the events they witness and descriptions of what their visions are like, but not much actual content. We are also told over and over that their "powers" are limited, but the only real evidence of this is what ends up happening to Chani. Granted, that was a huge blow to Paul, but I still question why it was completely out of the question to make her a ghola, aside from the possibility that she would not turn back into herself. The question of her posing a danger to Paul seemed bizarre after Paul was successful with Duncan Idaho, who posed a greater threat to Paul than Chani could.<br />That is a minor point though compared to my major complaint with this book. The Bene Tleilex. I mean, really. You are, in all seriousness, explaining the existence of the apparent nemeses of the Bene Gesserit, even though they did not exist at all in the first book. Where did they come from? The whole thing just screams plot device to me. And not even a good one. When you have an enemy that can change their appearance at will and create analogs of people that were dead, can even raise the dead, then you essentially have a group with unlimited power. Then you have to beat this enemy by being even more powerful.<br />I am a firm believer in limitations. Limitations are a catalyst of creativity. Without limitations it is very difficult to avoid a stagnant story. That's how I feel about <i>Dune Prophet</i>;<i> </i>it's stagnant. Reading it felt like I was treading water. I want a story that pulls at me like ocean tides. This was a chore to trudge through.Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-24041177759417425732009-11-29T13:48:00.000-05:002009-11-29T13:48:04.239-05:00Book 4: Captive Bride by Johanna LindseyWhen I first figured out that I really was sick, not just hungover, I headed to the store to stock up on various medicine and cough drops and tissues and whatnot. I also came to the conclusion that all of the books that I currently had lined up to read were way too hard to concentrate on. So I did what any disease-wracked person wandering aimlessly around the drug store would do; I grabbed a trashy romance novel to distract me. My criteria was very simple: NO SCOTTISH ACCENTS! For some reason, the majority of these ridiculous books are set in Scotland, Ireland or England. Either that or The South, with horses, and yet somehow still with Scottish accents. The last romance novel I read was on some Scottish island and the characters spoke in random Scottish accents and it drove me insane. <div>So I skipped over the covers with castles on them, and grabbed <i>Captive Bride </i>because there is an Arabian Nights sort of theme to the cover art. The back talks about how Christina Wakefield (yes, Wakefield, we'll get to that in a minute) can't resist the call of the Arabian desert and gets captured by a sheik and then falls in love with him (hello, Stockholm Syndrome). Sounds racy and totally free of anything related to northwestern Europe, right? WRONG! </div><div>First of all, Christina is English. Secondly, her goddamn housekeeper/nanny is fucking Scottish, accent and all. If I wasn't so weak from being sick, I would have chucked the book across the room. Also, as far as romance novels go, this one is seriously lacking in the sex department. There is only one actual written sex scene. ONE. The rest of the sex is just implied, like "Phillip patiently brought her to life, snatching away her will as he did every night." That's it. That's the majority of the "sex scenes" in this stupid book. Oh, and Phillip? He would be the sheik that kidnaps her <i>and is also English! </i>Seriously, why is everyone English or Scottish in these damn books? </div><div>I guess I should be sort of glad that there weren't more descriptive sex scenes, since Christina's last name was <i>Wakefield</i>. All I could think about whenever I was reminded of her last name was Sweet Valley High and the Wakefield twins. I mean, really, if you're going to write a romance novel, you might not want to name your character after other characters who are sort of ingrained in the minds of a likely significant portion of your target audience. </div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-9158605073428936192009-11-28T21:16:00.002-05:002009-11-29T12:42:27.512-05:00Book 3: Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt VonnegutI didn't really know what to expect when I picked this book up. I've never read Vonnegut before, and I know that a lot of people consider this book the greatest thing ever, even getting quotes from it as tattoos. Whatever I could have expected, it certainly was not what I got. I can certainly say that I liked it, but I wouldn't go so far as to say that it was the greatest thing ever written. It's got a nice jumbled, rambling feel to it, sort of like having a long conversation with your favorite uncle when you're both a little drunk and it's two in the morning so things make a certain kind of sense that they wouldn't at any other time. <div>One of the most unexpected things for me was the sudden appearance of sci-fi elements. They time-traveling and the aliens seem almost glaringly out of place in this book, but only at first. Once you get into the rhythm of the story and the message that it conveys, these elements make complete sense.<br /><div>There are also a lot of different topics packed into <i>Slaughterhouse Five, </i>but they are only hinted at and not thrust into your face. Some of the topics even contradict each other, the main example being that there is an anti-war sentiment alongside a pro-war sentiment. I am actually glad that I never read and analyzed this for any class, because I think I would have ended up disliking it. This way I can reflect and re-read it at my own pace and pull things out of it without any pressure. </div><div><br /></div></div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-11071837285150009792009-11-18T13:28:00.003-05:002009-11-18T13:35:01.658-05:00Adventures in StupidityScene at the bank.<div>Cast:</div><div>Me-Myself</div><div>Bank Teller-Twentysomething blonde girl with entirely too much makeup on</div><div><br /></div><div>Bank Teller: What's your job title?</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: Um, what?</div><div><br /></div><div>Bank Teller: Oh, we have to ask you what your job title is now.</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: Oh, ok. I don't think it will be in you list. Regulatory Affairs Associate.</div><div><br /></div><div>Bank Teller: [<i>clicks mouse a few times</i>] Hmm...I can pick "other". How about that?</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: Sure, whatever.</div><div><br /></div><div>Bank Teller: Ok, I have to type in a description. What did you say again?</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: [<i>slowly</i>] Regulatory. Associate. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bank Teller: Hmm, that doesn't fit. Oh , I know! [<i>types while spelling</i>] R-E-G...A-S-S. There! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>That's right. I am a Reg Ass. Good job. </div><div><br /></div>Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-53696047113180319102009-11-07T12:09:00.000-05:002009-11-07T12:10:31.897-05:00Book 2: Transformation by Carol BergAt 506 pages, this book seems longer than it is. This is due in large part to the simple, straightforward style the author uses to tell the story. The story itself is a fairly typical fantasy epic. There is an empire, ruled by a hard fighting warrior class, the Derzhi, whose society has roots in the nomadic tribes of the desert. There are several other "races" in the story aside from the ruling Derzhi. One of these races are the Ezzarians, who were conquered by the Derzhi. The story begins on the day that the narrator, an Ezzarian named Seyonne, was sold as a slave to the crown prince of the Derzhi empire, Aleksander.<br />The story is told through the first person perspective of Seyonne, the Ezzarian slave, as he uncovers a plot against the empire. through flashbacks to his former life, we learn that the Ezzarians were sort of guardians of human souls in a battle against demons. Seyonne becomes aware that certain members of the royal court are infected with demons. He takes it upon himself to protect the prince, in spite of Aleksander's arrogance and cruelty. As they uncover more of the demon plot, Aleksander and Seyonne escape into the wild to seek out the help of a hidden community of Ezzarians.<br />Both characters experience inner battles, both figuratively, as they face situations they greatly fear and take responsibility for their actions, and literally, as when Seyonne enters Aleksander's soul to battle the demon that has infected him. Both characters push and pull each other to become more than what they were, and each comes into his own as a result.<br />I have read <span style="font-style: italic;">Transformation </span>before and I still find that it's an easy and enjoyable read. I tend to pick it up when I am bored with whatever I am currently reading and want to escape into another reality with ease. I also just noticed this very moment that "Book One of the Rai-Kirah" is stated on the cover.Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-77852000467864622442009-11-05T07:00:00.000-05:002009-11-05T07:00:05.424-05:00Book 1: Dune by Frank HerbertI've heard a lot of friends talk about the <span style="font-style: italic;">Dune </span>books in way that reflected their deep love of the series as well as their inability to articulate just what it is about the series that they love so much, what keeps them coming back for more. It's a love of books that I understand completely. I find myself being drawn in by the style an author uses, to the point of seeking out every obscure thing that they have written, even under pseudonyms.<br />And, as much as I want it to, <span style="font-style: italic;">Dune </span>is not speaking to me. Don't get me wrong, I don't <span style="font-style: italic;">dis</span>like the book. The story is a great epic, I like most of the characters, the writing is good with the bonus of being unique in style. But I am not experiencing that <span style="font-style: italic;">thing,</span> that compulsion to read the next book, to see what happens next. I've been mulling over this, trying to find a specific point where the story lost me, and I'm having a difficult time coming up with any particular thing. It's almost like I'm experiencing the opposite of the compulsion to read more. I don't hate it, I just kind of don't care. I find it strange that I can identify all of the elements that I did like about the book, I can't point my finger at anything I didn't like, but I still wouldn't say that I liked it.<br />I do believe in giving a story a chance to develop and grow, so I intend to continue reading the series. It certainly has all of the elements working in it's favor, the most important of which is that the author does not feel compelled to explain things to me. Nothing piques my interest more than when information is withheld from me, and this is something that Herbert is great at. He drops you into this huge world and expects you to pay attention. I can even deal with the use of jargon, which I normally detest, because it doesn't cross the line from making up a word for something that doesn't exist in our universe to renaming an existing object just because you can. But it remains to be seen if this story can take root in my mind and grab on.Napoleanitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08840326431866009689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-76304679917131481842009-08-23T12:16:00.003-04:002009-08-23T12:39:39.508-04:00Going Through the MotionsI have been in such a funk lately. I don't even know why really. Every time in the past month or so that I've thought about writing a new post, I just sighed heavily and did something else instead. So today I'm forcing myslef to get over it and write something.<br />The main thing, I think, is that my life has become pretty much unchanging from one day to the next. That isn't conducive to telling stories, which is what I love to do. Right now, my life is: get up, go to work, come home, read/watch TV, sleep, get up, do it all again. Weekends don't really bring that much variation. I'm either too broke to go do something fun, or I have no one to do anything with.<br />I'm trying to find an apartment in a different part of town, so hopefully that will put me in a situation that is better for meeting new people and hanging out with friends. There are places available, it's just that none of them are inside of the area I want to live in. Everything available right now is on the edges of the neighborhood. I want to live in the middle. So I'm waiting and looking and waiting and looking. There is one place that looks like it would be awesome, but of course, they don't allow pets.<br />Speaking of pets, I have a sort of funny story about Singe. I took her to the vet again last week for a checkup. There was a new technician who had never seen Singe before (and who also looked like Pauly Shore). He asked me how she was doing, and I responded that she's doing really well. He gave me a strange look and told me that the vet would be in shortly. A few minutes later I heard her laughing right before she came in the room. She said to Pauly, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If you had seen this cat two months ago, you would believe that she looks great now." I took a more critical look at Singe. Here's what you would see if this is the first time you looked at her: a 20 pound cat with a cone on her head and a three inch wide circular wound on her right flank, as well as a weird bunch of scar tissue up and down her right flank. Yes, doing really well indeed. But compared to even one month ago? She really is doing amazingly well. She has bounced back from an L-form infection in her skin that had been making her body so crazy that she was developing autoimmune dermatitis. If it had remained untreated, her skin would basically have started sloughing off. No, thank you. So far, the only adverse reactions she's had to being pumped full of antibiotics and steroids is a very occasional puke. When considering that the possible outcomes included her not recovering at all or developing diabetes, she really is doing amazingly well.<br />But other than taking care of Singe and working, I don't have a whole lot going on to write about here. I mean, sure I see gross people at Wal-Mart, but I text about that to the three people who read this, so retelling those little stories seems redundant. I tried giving myself assignments for projects, but you can see how well that's gone. I just don't have a whole lot to talk about here.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-26343343593557496882009-08-15T12:01:00.003-04:002009-08-15T12:08:38.680-04:00Cabin FeverOnce again, it's raining and thus my plans for the day will not come to fruition. This is happening now with such regularity that it's becoming maddening. I wanted to go over to the area I'm trying to move to and look at apartments for rent. Granted, I still <span style="font-style: italic;">could, </span>it just wouldn't do me much good to try and see things in the pouring rain while driving. After that, I wanted to head out to the beach and chill for a while. Again, I technically still can go out to the beach. As long as I don't mind getting rained on while I'm trying to relax. Yeah, doesn't sound like so much fun to me.<br />The truly frustrating part of all this damn rain is that it always seems to be raining when Ricardo is home. So we don't really get to do much in that time. Yeah, we could go see movies, but we're trying to save up money. That doesn't work too well with most indoor activities.<br /><br />Maybe I'll just go to Panera and read that stuff for my work all day...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-63115714435771316952009-07-22T09:03:00.002-04:002009-07-22T11:55:37.862-04:00Well HelloI haven't written anything in a while, so here are some random updates.<br /><br />The biggest thing I've been dealing with recently is Singe's mysterious illness. A sample of the tissue that the vet removed from her leg was sent out for lab analysis and came back negative for damn near everything that we thought could have been causing the problem. What it did pick up is that Singe has autoimmune dermatitis. That means that her immune system is not recognizing her own skin and is attacking skin cells as though they were an infection. The vet's theory is that Singe has a micro-infection, and the antibiotics that she was on previously were not able to get to the source since it is behind a bunch of scar tissue and jacked up tissue in general. Now she is on a new, very strong antibiotic as well as a regimen of one week on, one week off of steroids. And she still has a cone on her head. It's very fun times at our house right now.<br /><br />In completely unrelated news, I am trying to move again. Keep your fingers crossed for me.<br /><br />Other than those things, my life is boring. I need some friends over here. Badly.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-22176034441995790182009-07-05T07:34:00.002-04:002009-07-05T14:40:48.359-04:00Purple GiraffeAirdate 9/26/05<br />"Ted throws a party in hopes of seeing Robin again, but when she doesn't show up, he throws another party...and another. Meanwhile, Lily's heightened libido prevents Marshall from getting his work done."<br /><br />Theme song!<br /><br />The year 2030. SagetTed asks the kids where he was. This makes it seem like he's telling this story over the course of several days. Who does that? The girl reminds her dad that he was telling them how he met their mother. “In excruciating detail,” the son pipes up. Shush son, and get your feet off the table. Another clue that this is a different day is that the girl is no longer wearing those hideous tights. She actually looks normal in a pink sweater layered over a purple top and some dark khakis. SagetTed jumps back into the story by reminding us that when he was 27, Marshall and Lily got engaged. We see that again in a flashback. This made Ted think that he should get married, since everyone else was. I bet Ted would jump off a cliff if his friends were doing it. Anyway. Ted saw Robin, she was incredible, Barney played Have you met Ted?, Ted and Robin went out, Ted told Robin he loved her. “Oh, Dad...” the daughter comments as she puts her head in her hand. I wish I knew these kids names. According to IMDB, they are Son and Daughter. That is messed up. I think I'll just give them names. The son will be Ted Jr. and the daughter will be...Dora. Get it? Moving on. Ted Jr. asks what happened next. Nothing, that's what. One week went by and Ted decided that he was not going to call Robin. Marshall, incredulous, says “So, you're not gonna call her? You went from 'I think I'm in love with you' to 'I'm not gonna call her'?” Ted protests that he was never in love with Robin, he was in love with the idea of getting married, only he uses a lot more words. As they approach the booth at the bar that Robin is sitting is, Ted says that it had absolutely nothing to do with Robin. Then he notices her and looks at Lily, who is sitting across from Robin. Lily excitedly tells them how she bumped into Robin. Ted asks how long they've been hanging out, and Robin indicates the top of her now empty glass and says, “Since about here.” Marshall leans over the table to Lily and starts making out with her pretty intensely, eliciting a “Hello, sailor!” from Robin. Ted explains how they just got engaged. Lily waggles her ring at Robin from the back of Marshall's head. Robin gets up to go back to work, and Lily and Marshall each raise a hand to wave at her without breaking mouth-cial contact. Robin tells Ted it was nice to see him. Ted agrees. As Robin leaves, Barney checks out her ass. Of course he does. Ted sits down in the booth with a “Dammit!”. Lily, free from Marshall trying to eat her face, asks what. He says that he's in love with Robin. Barney, beers in hand, smacks him on the head (hee!) and yells “No! As your sponsor, I will not let you relapse. You blew it, it's over, move on!” Ted says that he has a feeling that Robin is the future Mrs. Ted Mosby. Ugh, not this again. Lily squeaks (no really) and clamps her hand over her mouth. Marshall and Barney smile at her and Ted calls her out. Lily shakes her head, hand still clamped over her mouth. Ted concludes that Robin said something about him to Lily. He demands “C'mon, spill it Red!” and she caves, revealing that Robin called him “something else”. Ted spins that as good, and the fact that he comes on strong as part of his charm. In a flashback, Lily does the same. Robin talks Ted up to Lily as sweet and charming (and not at all creepy, like I would say), but that he's looking for something serious and Robin doesn't want anything beyond a casual relationship. Robin asks that this conversation stay between her and Lily. Lily reassures her with, “This flapper? Fort Knox.” Um, yeah, not so much. Current Lily realizes this with an oops. Ted's off and running with the concept that Robin wants something casual. He declares that he will be a “mushroom cloud of casual”. The gang looks impressed. Ted explains that he's doing this because “it's a game.” Apparently, Ted wanted to skip to the end and get married, but now he sees that he won't get there unless he plays the game. I think Ted played The Game of Life one too many times as a child. Marshall wants to know if Ted is going to ask Robin out. At first Ted agrees, then immediately says no, because that wouldn't be casual. Ted wants to know how he can ask Robin out without asking her out. The gang ponders. Barney's head tilt is particularly amusing. Lily quite reasonably wants to know if they are high. Ted has a solution. He will invite Robin to their party next Friday. Marshall is excited that they are throwing a party. Ted says the word casual again. Barney points out how non-casual it is to invite over a hundred people just to hook up with one girl. He then turns to Lily and says, “that's <span style="font-style: italic;">my </span>leg.” Lily is upset that he waited five minutes to tell her that. Marshall tells Ted to call Robin, but Ted says that calling her would not be casual and that he needs to arrange a chance meeting where he can accidentally-on-purpose run into her and invite her to the party. I'm not gonna rag on Ted for this, because I have totally arranged such meetings myself. Don't lie, you have too. Lily knocks on him, calling him “the most casual stalker ever,” which gets a snort out of Marshall.<br /><br />Up in the apartment, some time later, Marshall is working on his laptop at the table while Lily is sitting across from his playing with her ring. SagetTed tells us that ever since they got engaged, Lily and Marshall had been a lot hornier than normal. Only he says it somewhat more politely, since he's talking to his kids. Seriously, how old are those kids? Marshall protests to Lily's suggestive looks, saying that he has a twenty-five page paper on Constitutional Law due on Monday and he's barely started. I'll bet five bucks that the computer Marshall is looking at has the script for this scene on it. Lily says that she isn't doing anything besides sitting there wearing her ring. Then she goes on for a bit about how wearing the ring makes wearing other things like her shirt seem wrong. Then she throws out that she's not wearing panties, “not even slightly”, like, can you be “slightly” wearing underwear? Ted busts into the conversation with, “Guys! Boundaries!” Seriously. Then Ted sees Robin on the news, reporting from a convenience store where a little boy has gotten himself stuck in one of those claw machines with the stuffed animals. Ted gets the location (75th and Columbus) and takes off, yelling “Game on!” on his way out the door. We transport through the TV to Robin in the store, reporting, and Ted running through New York. Ted pops into the shot with a grin that quickly fades when he realizes that he is in the shot. He ducks out as Robin wraps up the story. We pan over to see a very sweaty Ted trying to look like he is casually browsing the aisles. Robin sees him and asks him what he's doing there. Ted says that he's shopping for dip because he loves dip. Then he fumbles, and says that he likes dip as a friend. He asks Robin if she's reporting a news story, and she shows him the kid stuck in the crane machine and says that it's sweet of him to call it news. Ted chastises the kid for not playing the game like everyone else, and the kid points out that Ted is all sweaty. Ted turns back to Robin and mentions the party, inviting Robin to “swing by” or “whatever” next Friday. The way he says “whatever” is ridiculous, all drawn out and looking up in the air. Whatever indeed, Ted. Robin says that she can't make it, since she's going out of town next Friday. Ted changes the party to tonight, covering his story by saying that he's been saying next Friday all week, but the party is actually tonight. He says “whatever” again. Guh.<br />Slide screen over to Marshall and Lily, cuddled up in bed, post-coital. Marshall answers Ted's call, and we see a split screen with Ted in the store holding about ten cans of dip. Ted asks if he's interrupting, but Marshall tells him that he's writing his paper. Ted, not buying it, tells Lily and Marshall to get dressed, because the party has changed to tonight and hangs up on a confused Marshall.<br />Fade in to the apartment,which is packed full of people, mostly guys. People are chatting and good times are being had. Marshall asks Ted what he's going to do when Robin shows up calling Ted “Gatsby.” Ted <span style="font-style: italic;">wishes</span>. Ted has it all planned out. Cut to Robin coming in the door in a sexy red dress. Ted voice-overs, along with some “sexy” jazz saxophone, that he will be across the room when Robin shows up, “showing some foxy young thang my cool architecture stuff.” Imaginary Ted waves around various drafting tools. In Ted's imagination, there are a lot more women at this party. Imaginary Robin approaches Imaginary Ted and he says hey. Imaginary Robin says hey back, but it's Ted doing her voice while she mouths the word. This cracked me up. As did Ted-voiced Robin saying, “Nice place, et cetera, et cetera.” Imaginary Ted tells Imaginary Robin to make herself at home and returns to his conversation with Foxy Young Thang. An hour later, Imaginary Ted approaches Imaginary Robin, sitting at the window. He says, “Oh, you're still here?” like he doesn't really care but it's a nice surprise (according to real Ted). Imaginary Ted then invites Imaginary Robin up to the roof, very “casually”, if by “casually” you mean “obviously wants to get her naked-y”. Back in reality, Lily and Marshall say “the roof”, all knowing. Ted says that if he can get Robin up to the roof, the roof will take care of the rest. Barney wants to know what's so special about the roof, and Lily and Marshall fill him in. Apparently the moon, the stars, the lights, and the view create a powerful recipe for romance. Marshall says they do it up there sometimes. Dude, did we not discuss boundaries already? Barney tells Ted that he likes his plan, calling him “my little friend”. Ted corrects him that they're the same height. That made me giggle. Barney suggests one small change to Ted's plan. Instead of chasing after Robin, Ted should take the Foxy Young Thang up to the roof and have “crazy monkey sex” with her. Back in Ted's Imaginary Party, Imaginary Ted protests that that is not the plan. Barney tells him that it should be and demands that Imaginary Ted look at Foxy Young Thang. Imaginary Ted does as Barney calls her smokin'. Foxy Young Thang and her nipples turn and say thank you. Imaginary Ted points out that she's not Robin. Back in reality, Barney says that is the point. He asks Ted to “rap”, and I have a brief hope that he is actually doing to start rapping. My hopes are dashed though, as all Barney does is quote a statistic that there is one woman at every New York party who does not know anyone there. Barney wants to know if Ted sees where he is going with this, and I think the question is unnecessary. I think blind people can see where Barney is going with that. Ted starts to shoot down Barney plan again, but Barney interrupts him to start <span style="font-style: italic;">miming using a periscope in a submarine</span>, complete with “bip...bip” sound effects. Lily calls him a dork. Word, Lily. The bips increase in frequency as Barney spots a blonde girl who clearly doesn't know anyone around her. Barney drags Ted over to play Haaaaave you met Ted? They exchange hellos. He asks her if she knows Marshall or Lily. Nope. He pointedly asks if she knows anyone and she informs him that she works with Carlos. Barney excuses himself to ask if anyone knows Carlos. Nope. He turns to Ted and gestures at the blonde girl, saying “on a sliver platter. <span style="font-style: italic;">Bone </span>appétit.” Ted is still not interested, so Barney turns back to the bonde and asks if she would like to see the roof, calling it magical. She agrees, and they head to the window. Ted tries to stop them, saying that he has the roof reserved. I never heard him call dibs. I'm just sayin'. Barney tells Ted that Robin is not going to show up. Ted yells after him that she will. He repeats to himself that she'll show up.<br />Cut to the apartment the next day, red plastic cups everywhere. Lily, Ted and Marshall are sitting on the couch. SagetTed tells us that Robin never showed up. Lily points out that is was still a great party. Marshall says that he ate four cans of dip. Ted thanks him for knowing just the right thing to say. Ted's phone rings and he sees that it's Robin calling. Lily tells him to answer, but he says no, he can't seem too eager, because he has to be casual. He waits for another ring and then answers. Robin immediately apologizes for missing his party. He pretends that he doesn't know who she is, asking if she's Meridith. Who buys that anymore when everyone's phone had caller ID? Robin tells him who she is, and tells him that she got stuck at work. She gives him the good news that they got the boy out of the crane machine. Ted asks if he got to keep the purple giraffe. Robin says they let the kid keep all the toys, since he was in there a long time and little kids have small bladders. Ew. Enjoy your pee toys kid. Robin says that she wishes the party was tonight, and Ted tells her that it is. Marshall jumps up off the couch in protest. Ted says that it's a two day party, “cuz that's just how we roll”. He re-invites Robin to the second party, and hangs up. He sheepishly turns to Marshall and says, “So that was Robin...” and Marshall wants to know what Ted is doing. Marshall has a paper to write by Monday. Better get your ass to the library, Marshall. Ted runs out the door apologizing and saying that he's going to get more dip. Marshall yells after him to get French Onion. Marshall asks Lily if she can believe what Ted is doing, but Lily clearly has other things on her mind as she looks up at Marshall, biting her lip and playing with her engagement ring. Marshall says fine, but tells her that it has to be super quick, and there will be no cuddling. They head to the bedroom, Lily saying how she's the luckiest girl alive. Marshall stops outside of the room and tears off his robe before heading in after Lily in only his boxers and a pair of brown socks. Sexy.<br />At the apartment, the second party is in full swing. Barney comes up to Ted and tells him that he was right about the roof. He took the girl from last night home, and that morning took her outside, “spun her in circles a few times, and sent her walking. She will never find her way back—and there she is!” Sure enough, there she is. I don't know why Barney thought she would be trying to find her way back to Ted's apartment the day after the party, since that was surely before even Ted knew there was a second party. Maybe he meant that she wouldn't find Barney's apartment again? I'm thinking about this too much. Anyway. Barney wants to know if Ted invited her, but Ted still doesn't know who she is. Barney reminds him that she works with Carlos. Ted still doesn't know any Carlos. The blonde girl comes over and says hi to Barney. He clearly can't remember her name, saying “Hi...you!” The girl giggles and kisses him. She calls him sweetie and says she needs a drink. Barney and I have the same thought as she pulls him into the kitchen: Sweetie? Really? He turns back to mouth “help” to Ted, but Ted is busy trying to keep Lily and Marshall off the roof. He physically separates them from each other. I don't think that's gonna work Ted. Barney comes out of the kitchen, saying that it's over between him and “works-with-Carlos-girl.” Ted says that was fast, like, haaaaave you met Barney? Barney says that he was trying to think of the fastest way to get rid of a girl you just met, and we flashback to Barney telling Works With Carlos, “I think I'm in love with you.” She yells, “What?” and back in the present Barney thanks Ted. Ted is glad he could help, and then turns to yell at Marshall, who is heading up to the roof. Marshall apologizes, and goes up. Ted ask Barney what he's supposed to do when Robin shows up, and Barney just smirk and takes a drink. Ted argues again that she will show up.<br />Cut to the next day, Lily, Ted and Marshall sitting on the couch, again. Red cups are all over, again. SagetTed tells us that she didn't show up, again. Marshall says, “Alright. We threw two parties. Everybody had fun. Everybody wanged, everybody chunged.” Hee. Marshall gets up to finally work on his paper. He says to repeat after him, “I will now have sex with Marshall.” Lily and Ted, in chorus, “I will not have sex with Marshall.” Hee again! Ted's phone rings, it's Robin. He answers, and Robin says hi. Ted calls her Amanda, then corrects himself, saying, “Oh, sorry, Denise, you totally sounded like Amanda.” He exchanges a finger dap with Marshall for this. Again, I protest that Robin has to know that he knows it's her. Nevertheless, she corrects him that she is Robin and apologizes for missing his party again. She got stuck at work again. Ted says, “Ain't no thang but a chicken wing, mamasita!” then puts the phone against his chest and says, “<span style="font-style: italic;">Who am I</span>?” to Lily and Marshall. At least this time Ted knows he's ridiculous. Robin asks about the chance that his party will continue for a third day, and Ted can't resist saying that it will. Marshall jumps off the couch and tries to grab the phone away from Ted, but Ted is too fast for him. Marshall stalks after him as he babbles some more at Robin, using the terms “bro” and “party trifecta.” I maintain that Ted is lucky that he's attractive. Robin promises to show up this time. Ted hangs up and turns to Marshall, sheepishly saying, “So that was Robin...” again.<br />Cut to the incredibly lame party. There are like six guys sitting around chatting. Barney wanders over to the couch and tells Ted how lame his party is. Ted asks if it's lame, or casual. Barney votes lame. Ted asks again, and Barney just shakes his head. Marshall comes out of the bedroom and Lily asks him if he's ready for a fifteen minute recess, calling him Lawbooks and stroking his chest. He apologizes, but he can't stop working on his paper, and he needs all his blood in his brain. I giggle, because penises are funny. Marshall asks if anyone has seen some book with a really long name. No one has. He asks if anyone has seen a big ass book. Still no. Someone says hello to Barney, and he turns to see Works With Carlos. She asks him if he thinks it's weird both of them got invited, and Barney gets kind of rude, asking, “<span style="font-style: italic;">Who</span>? Who invited you? No one even knows who you are!” Works With Carlos just chalks his behavior up to his “broken heart.” She says that Carlos was right about him, and walks away. He yells “Who is Carlos?” after her. Marshall comes out of Ted's room, still looking for his book. He finds it on the coffee table, open with the pages down and a red cup sitting on it. He picks it up and liquid is dripping off of it. He promptly throws a fit, as would I. But then I don't make a habit of leaving expensive ass books lying around. He yells the long name of the book again and says that it is not a coaster. He turns to Ted and gives a long speech about how they threw three stupid parties just so Ted could hang out with Robin, and she isn't even there. He asks Ted where Robin is, turns around and almost runs into Lily and Robin exiting the kitchen. He says hi to Robin, drops his big ass book on the floor, grabs Lily's hand and runs into the bedroom. Robin approaches Ted and asks him if he threw all the parties for her. Ted starts to deny it, in the lamest way possible, but then he cops to it. He says that one of the reasons he threw these parties was to introduce Robin to “this guy”, grabbing the nearest person to him. Ted figured that since things didn't work out between the two of them, now they can just laugh about it. He introduces the guy who's name he doesn't know by saying, “Robin, this is...” and turning to him. The guy fills in with “Carlos.” Ted and Barney: “Ohhhhhh.”<br />Lily and Marshall are standing over Ted, who is sitting at his drafting table. They are watching Robin and Carlos chatting on the couch. Ted babbles about winning the game. Lily grabs him and gives him the tough talk. She agrees that Robin is great and all, but Ted wants to get married. She reminds Ted that there are a million women in New York who want that too, but Robin is not one of them. Ted argues that Robin isn't “just one of them,” she's The One. Barney points out that The One is heading up to the roof with Carlos. Marshall asks Ted what he's going to do, and Ted says nothing. He has to keep playing the game. Montage of hands playing the claw game, Ted, Robin, the window to the roof, and the hand hitting the “drop claw” button. More montage, ending with shots of the kid climbing into the game and Ted climbing up to the roof. Up on the roof, Ted asks Carlos to give them a minute, and Carlos takes off saying, “No sweat, hombre.” Ted tells Robin that he didn't throw the parties to set her up with Carlos, he threw them because he wanted to see her again. Robin just says, “Well here I am.” Ted says that there is something between them, unless he's crazy. Robin tells him that he's not crazy, but they barely know each other and he looks at her like “let's fall in love and get married and have babies and drive them to soccer practice.” Ted cracks a joke about not forcing sports on their kids. Robin calls it a great look, but tells him that he's looking at the wrong girl. Ted protests that he's not, and I get irritated that Ted is trying to tell Robin what she wants. Look, Ted, just because you want to get married, blah blah blah, and Robin is attracted to you, that does not mean that she's required to want to get married to you. Robin tells him that she might not ever want to get married, and she knows that dating Ted would end in either them getting married or her breaking his heart, and she doesn't want to do either one. She says that Ted can't turn off how he feels, and Ted cheeses it up by turning an imaginary key over his heart, saying “click, off” as he does so, and then says, “Let's make out.” Robin laughs, but backs away. He tells Robin that he just turned off his feelings and steps closer to her. She protests that he can't, he argues that he did. They get closer. More back and forth about his switch being off. They move closer, and finally kiss. Ted pulls back a little and says that it's not off. Robin was right, there is no off switch. Ted really wishes there was one. Robin sighs and agrees. They laugh and are awkward. Robin suggests that they be friends, and Ted does the hand over his heart like it hurts him thing. Robin knows that it sounds lame when people say that, but that they really could be friends. Ted isn't sure, since he's made such a jackass out of himself. Every time he sees her it will remind him that he's a jackass. Robin says that he's not a jackass. She explains that she just moved to New York in April, and she's always working, and she basically has no friends. She understands though. Ted offers to go for a beer in a few months when things are not so fresh. Robin sadly agrees, and starts to leave. Ted changes his offer to get a beer with everyone now. Robin agrees, and Ted says, “My friends are going to love you—like you! As a friend. <span style="font-style: italic;">Jackass</span>...”<br />Fade into the bar, where everyone is sitting at the booth. Barney sees something that makes him say, “Unbelievable!” Over at the bar, Works With Carlos is making out with, well, Carlos. Barney says that it's a disaster, since they work together. Ted asks if he's jealous, and Barney scoffs, asking what Carlos has that he doesn't. Robin shoots him down with “A date tonight.” Lily tells her to rewind and play it again. Robin complies, even making the rewinding tape noises. Barney isn't sure he likes Robin. Ted asks Marshall if he has a paper to write. Marshall says, “Dude, you're talking to The Kid.” Ted knows. Marshall is going to finish his beer, have another beer, go upstairs and write his twenty-five page paper, and then get an A. He ends with, “My name is Rufus, and that's the trufus.” That reference is lost on me, but everyone else giggles. SagetTed tells us that Marshall ended up getting a B-, which is still amazing for writing it in one night. Ted gets up to buy the next round, and Robin goes with him to help carry. Over at the bar, Robin tells Ted that he is a catch and will make some lucky woman a good husband. She offers to help Ted find her. Ted wonders how someone can find the love of his life among so many people, or even where to begin. Robin taps the woman next to them on the shoulder and asks her, “Have you met Ted?” Robin heads back to the booth with the pitcher and Ted stays to chat. He looks over at Robin, and she grins at him. He grins back.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-45362524460474225092009-06-27T10:08:00.002-04:002009-06-27T10:15:41.711-04:00The Tornado StoryYesterday was a bright, sunny, hot Florida day. After work I drove over to the bank, stopping for gas first. As I was telling the pump what kind of gas I wanted, I heard a loud thunderclap. Not really that strange for this time of day in the summer, but when I turned around and saw the deep grey clouds hanging incredibly low, it gave me pause. Finished filling my thirsty car and drove over to the bank. Just as I was finishing my transaction, the teller got a phone call, after which she announced, "I'm supposed to warn everyone that there's a small tornado outside." We all rushed outside to take pictures, like total jackasses, myself included. Hey, it was the first tornado I had ever seen. And I did check it out from inside first, and it was pretty far away. Pictures taken, I got back in the car to head home. After driving through some pretty intense rain and random hail, I got back to the house without incident. An hour and a half later, the sky was once again completely clear.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2161975663051184296.post-40131742380277224222009-06-26T17:42:00.000-04:002009-06-26T17:43:45.963-04:00Tornado!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrn7Soy1Th-3Ddcsgy1pMJuT8oo3fCv-6gZ65-cgrHcB7r7KAWwua3QEH-kKStxJwxeWihWMkz0rqlADve5Bbu8bdn0ZmXHiHzZjxqnA1RKslX3-oiKUeKZsBIigPjvjSECEP0l7f0o_8/s1600-h/DSCN0165.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrn7Soy1Th-3Ddcsgy1pMJuT8oo3fCv-6gZ65-cgrHcB7r7KAWwua3QEH-kKStxJwxeWihWMkz0rqlADve5Bbu8bdn0ZmXHiHzZjxqnA1RKslX3-oiKUeKZsBIigPjvjSECEP0l7f0o_8/s400/DSCN0165.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351755136304235730" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1