I've been working on the socks for quite awhile today. Since my cousin managed to get herself into even MORE trouble, I've decided that she doesn't get these; my friend Brie does instead. At my school I'm in the IB program, and there's only nine of us, and we've been in all the same classes together for nigh on two years - needless to say, we're pretty tight knit and like each other well enough to shout at each other and not get offended/angry. And they all (well, I would like to think) affectionately tease me about my knitting, because I knit in school a lot. Today I offered these socks up for grabs, and Brie immediately claimed them. And so, they're hers.
When I finish them. They're supposed to be done by, uh, Friday. But, that's obviously not happening. I took my sock into the guidance counselor's office and told the scholarship lady that this is my talent I'm doing for the scholarship - but it takes time and won't be done by Friday, so could I please send a picture of a work in progress? She okay'd it... thankfully. So I get a week or two extension on these things, and then they get handed over to Brie and I can work on something that I actually want to work on for ME!
It has occurred to me that I have never, ever knit anything for myself in my one solitary year of knitting. Everything has been baby clothes or gifts or a lot of other small, unfinished things. I really should knit my next project for me and me alone... after I finish another pair of socks and a hat for my very best friend in Ohio. -_-;;
Have you ever knit so much in one sitting, and been so tired, that your knit stitches start to seem/feel like purl stitches? I was sitting here, knitting and reading archives of this wonderful, witty blog when all of a sudden I had this panic attack that I was actually purling the stitches I was supposed to be knitting. False alarm, but it sure felt like it to my tired eyes and fingers. Oy vey, I need to go to bed.
This reminds me of the time I stayed up all night playing Guitar Hero, and after awhile my eyes got so abused and tired that the TV screen started swirling in front of me. Freaky stuff. Or the time that I was practicing marching for a parade in the marching band I used to be in, and it was swelteringly hot and after we stopped marching everything in the world got farther away and came back... farther away and came back; repeat. It was odd. Strangely enough, the one time I almost fainted, the only visual thing that happened to me was my vision slowly faded to black. But I was still conscious (and walking, at that - but with help, of course)... it was pretty interesting, witnessing your vision fade away and then regaining it later.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Blog title changed
Confessions of a gingersnap. Because I am a ginger.
And my life goal is to be just like Sam Gamgee. He is such a loyal and wonderful little hobbit.
"I ain't been droppin' no eaves, sir!"
And my life goal is to be just like Sam Gamgee. He is such a loyal and wonderful little hobbit.
"I ain't been droppin' no eaves, sir!"
A smattering of everything (AND a sock!)
It feels a little weird, posting seventy million posts a day and then abandoning this thing for a few days. But, life calls. I went to a college visit thing at Indiana University (where I'm going next year) yesterday and today. I would be cuddled up and sleeping right now, except I can't really sleep. And so, I blog.
IU was awesome. I love it there, and I'm so glad I do, because it is really a super convenient set-up for me. I want to go to college to study East Languages and Cultures (what their major of Chinese/Japanese/Korean things is called), and IU is both near, SUPER cheap, and ridiculously excellent in the areas I want to study. Not to mention IU is a good school overall and has one of the most beautiful campuses EVER. It's gorgeous. Trees everywhere, lots of little cobblestone paths, big buildings that look like Hogwarts (if Hogwarts was made of limestone)... beautiful.
I didn't get very much knitting done. But this is how much I have on my sock:
I use the camera on my phone, which sucks. I know. The colors are all faded and grossly inaccurate; the color of the yarn is actually this wonderful, lustrous, leafy green. The pattern is Monkey by Cookie A, available on Knitty (but I found it on Ravelry).
In other news... I've been thinking about changing the blog title. I would really like to call it "I Don't Give a Shit [subtitle: and neither should you!]," but I think people would be offended by that, even though that's my life's philosophy. Life is so much easier once you stop caring about the little things. And then I could write some blog posts about the things I do care about, like education, philosophy, yarn, books, coffee, food, yoga, religion, and the quality of my water. (I could go on a huge, multi-paragraph rant about how Fiji is the best tasting water ever because it has no taste - and yes, SOME WATER HAS TASTE. I hate it. I hate when I can taste my water. Dasani water is particularly horrible.)
The reason I'm thinking of changing the title is because I don't really blog about knitting all too frequently... it's not like I have time to sit and knit for six hours everyday. Maybe I would have that kind of time this summer, but I seriously doubt it. And so I can't really update on my knitting progress very often. This blog is really just a blog about whatever babble spews forth from my fingers. I don't necessarily consider this a bad thing, but then again, I like to hear myself talk. I think I can even be somewhat witty -- occasionally. I think it comes from being in debate.
So I'm thinking of calling it Gingersnap. My friend thought it up today, and wanted to call me it. I think it sounds positively adorable, as does my other friend.
IU was awesome. I love it there, and I'm so glad I do, because it is really a super convenient set-up for me. I want to go to college to study East Languages and Cultures (what their major of Chinese/Japanese/Korean things is called), and IU is both near, SUPER cheap, and ridiculously excellent in the areas I want to study. Not to mention IU is a good school overall and has one of the most beautiful campuses EVER. It's gorgeous. Trees everywhere, lots of little cobblestone paths, big buildings that look like Hogwarts (if Hogwarts was made of limestone)... beautiful.
I didn't get very much knitting done. But this is how much I have on my sock:
I use the camera on my phone, which sucks. I know. The colors are all faded and grossly inaccurate; the color of the yarn is actually this wonderful, lustrous, leafy green. The pattern is Monkey by Cookie A, available on Knitty (but I found it on Ravelry).
In other news... I've been thinking about changing the blog title. I would really like to call it "I Don't Give a Shit [subtitle: and neither should you!]," but I think people would be offended by that, even though that's my life's philosophy. Life is so much easier once you stop caring about the little things. And then I could write some blog posts about the things I do care about, like education, philosophy, yarn, books, coffee, food, yoga, religion, and the quality of my water. (I could go on a huge, multi-paragraph rant about how Fiji is the best tasting water ever because it has no taste - and yes, SOME WATER HAS TASTE. I hate it. I hate when I can taste my water. Dasani water is particularly horrible.)
The reason I'm thinking of changing the title is because I don't really blog about knitting all too frequently... it's not like I have time to sit and knit for six hours everyday. Maybe I would have that kind of time this summer, but I seriously doubt it. And so I can't really update on my knitting progress very often. This blog is really just a blog about whatever babble spews forth from my fingers. I don't necessarily consider this a bad thing, but then again, I like to hear myself talk. I think I can even be somewhat witty -- occasionally. I think it comes from being in debate.
So I'm thinking of calling it Gingersnap. My friend thought it up today, and wanted to call me it. I think it sounds positively adorable, as does my other friend.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Suffragette style
So, I've only ever had a bad haircut three times in my life: once when I was four, I cut a square into my bangs; twice last summer when some douchefag cut my hair way shorter than I wanted him to and I looked like a boy (at least he got the layers); and thrice, yesterday, when some bitch did not listen to a WORD I told her and decided not only to cut my hair far too short, but to not give me layers, either.
I'm ticked. It is SO HARD to give me a bad haircut, too! I'm not saying this to brag or be vain or anything... It just comes from the fact that my hair is a big, curly, coarse mess and will swallow up most mistakes that hair stylists make. Uneven ends? Awesome. My curls will swallow it up. Messed up the layering? See the last sentence. My hair does whatever I want it to do. Hell, it even grows twice as fast as the average human's does. Most people's hair only grows about a half-inch a month: mine grows an inch a month. A foot a year.
In my case, I'm going to have to wait a month before my hair will even RESEMBLE what the stylist was supposed to cut it like. Ugh. Everyone keeps telling me that they think my haircut makes me look cute; one guy at work even said it made me beautiful, lol. But people flatter. Since my anger has cooled down a tad, though, perhaps I don't look like a dyke anymore -- I'm just rocking a suffragette style.
I'm ticked. It is SO HARD to give me a bad haircut, too! I'm not saying this to brag or be vain or anything... It just comes from the fact that my hair is a big, curly, coarse mess and will swallow up most mistakes that hair stylists make. Uneven ends? Awesome. My curls will swallow it up. Messed up the layering? See the last sentence. My hair does whatever I want it to do. Hell, it even grows twice as fast as the average human's does. Most people's hair only grows about a half-inch a month: mine grows an inch a month. A foot a year.
In my case, I'm going to have to wait a month before my hair will even RESEMBLE what the stylist was supposed to cut it like. Ugh. Everyone keeps telling me that they think my haircut makes me look cute; one guy at work even said it made me beautiful, lol. But people flatter. Since my anger has cooled down a tad, though, perhaps I don't look like a dyke anymore -- I'm just rocking a suffragette style.
Blather
Today I talked to my cousin. It was... strangely normal. She doesn't seem fazed. Meanwhile, I am confused as to why she isn't a wreck.
Progress on sock continues. Pictures up later, for those (no one) who care. Why is using five dpns to knit a sock SO MUCH EASIER than using four dpns? I add a needle, and all my problems magically go away. It's going smashingly.
Firefox, why is smashingly considered misspelled?
Progress on sock continues. Pictures up later, for those (no one) who care. Why is using five dpns to knit a sock SO MUCH EASIER than using four dpns? I add a needle, and all my problems magically go away. It's going smashingly.
Firefox, why is smashingly considered misspelled?
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Curry: results
This is how my curry rice went: runny.
I ended up using too much water in the whole shebang, which really took down the flavor as far as I'm concerned. Due to my Mad Scientist method (looking in the herb cabinet and going, "Ooooh..." and subsequently dumping seven different herbs into the pot), though, it definitely has a flavor kick. Not a very big one like curry is SUPPOSED to taste, but it tastes like the herbs I put into the pot. If I hadn't used so much water, this concoction probably would've blown my head off (which would be a GOOD thing. I LOVE flavor).
So, lessons? Use exact measurements. It's not the knuckle thing I'm spazzing out about, actually, because in reality there wasn't much rice left and so my hand couldn't fit into the small pot and I had to just eyeball it. That was another problem... None of the pots I was using were the size they needed to be. I used this mammoth of a pot for making my curry, and I looked into and thought, "More water. More carrots." (We don't have any onions at the moment.) Result? Too many carrots, too much water. Also, this rice we had sucks. It was "instant" rice. I didn't believe it. That probably was a factor as well.
All in all though, it's gooooooood. I'm trying this again, soon.
Herbs that I tossed into the pot: mustard, cumin, thyme, sage, paprika. I don't even know what any of those taste like except for thyme. I remember hearing thyme and sage used together a lot, and paprika, cumin, and mustard all sounded Indian, so in they went!
I ended up using too much water in the whole shebang, which really took down the flavor as far as I'm concerned. Due to my Mad Scientist method (looking in the herb cabinet and going, "Ooooh..." and subsequently dumping seven different herbs into the pot), though, it definitely has a flavor kick. Not a very big one like curry is SUPPOSED to taste, but it tastes like the herbs I put into the pot. If I hadn't used so much water, this concoction probably would've blown my head off (which would be a GOOD thing. I LOVE flavor).
So, lessons? Use exact measurements. It's not the knuckle thing I'm spazzing out about, actually, because in reality there wasn't much rice left and so my hand couldn't fit into the small pot and I had to just eyeball it. That was another problem... None of the pots I was using were the size they needed to be. I used this mammoth of a pot for making my curry, and I looked into and thought, "More water. More carrots." (We don't have any onions at the moment.) Result? Too many carrots, too much water. Also, this rice we had sucks. It was "instant" rice. I didn't believe it. That probably was a factor as well.
All in all though, it's gooooooood. I'm trying this again, soon.
Herbs that I tossed into the pot: mustard, cumin, thyme, sage, paprika. I don't even know what any of those taste like except for thyme. I remember hearing thyme and sage used together a lot, and paprika, cumin, and mustard all sounded Indian, so in they went!
CURRY RICE
So I don't forget. Also, writing/typing things helps me remember.
My friend and I were trying to do mochitsuki over Christmas break, and we ran into quite a few obstacles along the way. In the end it was a total disaster, but I remember we figured out from a website how to make rice without a rice cooker. It came out PERFECTLY. Trouble is, I can't find this website anymore, so I'm going to have to try to re-piece this method from other information and from memory.
So. To Make Rice Without a Rice Cooker:
- Wash and rinse your rice a few times.
- Dump your rice in a pot and fill with water. I use the knuckle method.
--- THE KNUCKLE METHOD: place your hand on top of the rice and fill the pot with water until the water level comes even with the second knuckle on your index finger.
- Cover pot and cook rice until water boils.
- At boiling point, immediately turn the heat on low. Simmer for 10-15 minutes.
- Turn off heat and allow rice to sit COVERED for at least five minutes.
CAUTION: I have not actually tried this. Do not repeat until I give the go ahead!
On a similar note, we have a recipe for curry rice:
INGREDIENTS: chopped onions, chopped carrots, thyme, 1 tsp curry powder/paste, 1/4 cup butter, 3/2 cup water, 1 cup rice, etc. Maybe some chicken, but eh.
Saute veggies with butter and herbs, then add your water and bring to a boil. Once it boils, turn the heat down to low and allow the veggies to cook for about 15 minutes (covered). Then gradually add your curry and wait until it's all nice and blended (this recipe says about 10 minutes), and VOILA! Dump over rice.
My friend and I were trying to do mochitsuki over Christmas break, and we ran into quite a few obstacles along the way. In the end it was a total disaster, but I remember we figured out from a website how to make rice without a rice cooker. It came out PERFECTLY. Trouble is, I can't find this website anymore, so I'm going to have to try to re-piece this method from other information and from memory.
So. To Make Rice Without a Rice Cooker:
- Wash and rinse your rice a few times.
- Dump your rice in a pot and fill with water. I use the knuckle method.
--- THE KNUCKLE METHOD: place your hand on top of the rice and fill the pot with water until the water level comes even with the second knuckle on your index finger.
- Cover pot and cook rice until water boils.
- At boiling point, immediately turn the heat on low. Simmer for 10-15 minutes.
- Turn off heat and allow rice to sit COVERED for at least five minutes.
CAUTION: I have not actually tried this. Do not repeat until I give the go ahead!
On a similar note, we have a recipe for curry rice:
INGREDIENTS: chopped onions, chopped carrots, thyme, 1 tsp curry powder/paste, 1/4 cup butter, 3/2 cup water, 1 cup rice, etc. Maybe some chicken, but eh.
Saute veggies with butter and herbs, then add your water and bring to a boil. Once it boils, turn the heat down to low and allow the veggies to cook for about 15 minutes (covered). Then gradually add your curry and wait until it's all nice and blended (this recipe says about 10 minutes), and VOILA! Dump over rice.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The advent of the run-on sentence
That title alone should scare you.
This always happens when I get off on some break from school and then my whole sleeping schedule turns itself inside out in THREE DAYS, and before you know it, I'm up until 3 and in bed until noon. What a drag. I'm musing on this because it's 10:30 at night, and I've yet to do another day of Jillian Whoever-the-fuck, shower, make DELICIOUS CURRY RICE!, put away dishes, start on that infuriating sock for a third time... and other things.
My sister-aunt is at her friends house and therefore skipping a day of Jillian, I bet. What a wimp. (Watch. She'll have done it with her friend -- or better yet, have taken the DVD with her and left me Jillian-less). My legs really hurt today. God damn you, Lactic Acid.
Today I started twice on a sock. I really hate working anything on three double-points, because for some reason it always creates ladders that spiral out of control and leave me looking bewildered at the pile of yarn that used to be a sock. Four dpns are much safer. Unfortunately, due to my step-mother being in the hospital, I was stuck at my dad's today watching my little sister (she's two). Now, I love watching my sister and don't mind doing that at all, but guess how many dpns I brought with me today -- yep, four. Not five. I bravely tried to soldier on, thinking that thousands of women have knit socks using four dpns. Why can't I? But in the end I gave up. So tonight will be Attempt Four at Beginner Sock. Hopefully the CURRY I bought today will soothe me.
Did I mention that I bought CURRY today for making DELICIOUS CURRY RICE? Curry, curry, curry!
This is almost enough cause for excitement to distract me from the fact that Abby will be home tomorrow. I don't know what I'm going to do...
This always happens when I get off on some break from school and then my whole sleeping schedule turns itself inside out in THREE DAYS, and before you know it, I'm up until 3 and in bed until noon. What a drag. I'm musing on this because it's 10:30 at night, and I've yet to do another day of Jillian Whoever-the-fuck, shower, make DELICIOUS CURRY RICE!, put away dishes, start on that infuriating sock for a third time... and other things.
My sister-aunt is at her friends house and therefore skipping a day of Jillian, I bet. What a wimp. (Watch. She'll have done it with her friend -- or better yet, have taken the DVD with her and left me Jillian-less). My legs really hurt today. God damn you, Lactic Acid.
Today I started twice on a sock. I really hate working anything on three double-points, because for some reason it always creates ladders that spiral out of control and leave me looking bewildered at the pile of yarn that used to be a sock. Four dpns are much safer. Unfortunately, due to my step-mother being in the hospital, I was stuck at my dad's today watching my little sister (she's two). Now, I love watching my sister and don't mind doing that at all, but guess how many dpns I brought with me today -- yep, four. Not five. I bravely tried to soldier on, thinking that thousands of women have knit socks using four dpns. Why can't I? But in the end I gave up. So tonight will be Attempt Four at Beginner Sock. Hopefully the CURRY I bought today will soothe me.
Did I mention that I bought CURRY today for making DELICIOUS CURRY RICE? Curry, curry, curry!
This is almost enough cause for excitement to distract me from the fact that Abby will be home tomorrow. I don't know what I'm going to do...
Monday, March 22, 2010
I changed my mind.
I'm going to knit these instead.
I'm working on a deadline. I hate deadlines. So I'm ditching the two color approach. I will learn how to knit socks with one skein, and then proceed to knit the above socks with the other skein. It will work.
I'm working on a deadline. I hate deadlines. So I'm ditching the two color approach. I will learn how to knit socks with one skein, and then proceed to knit the above socks with the other skein. It will work.
Oh, and...
socks.
I fucked up the jacket I'm knitting. The pattern motif is off by ONE STITCH. When did I make this mistake? At the beginning of a round. When did I realize I made this mistake? At the end of the round. I just don't have it in my heart to rip back 258 stitches and knit the round again any time soon, so I give up on trying to knit this garment on a deadline.
I'll just knit fair isle socks for the damn scholarship. Just as colorful, just as "wow" to non-knitters, and small. Small enough to finish in a few days. Except...
have I ever mentioned I've never knitted a sock before?
Ha. Still, if I spend a few days knitting, I should be able to pull off finishing these before April 2nd. It's totally doable. I've got a few yarn balls in my stash that I can use to learn how to make the sock, and then today I nipped out to my local, little yarn store and bought two skeins of Cascade sock yarn. One in green, on in a soft gold-yellow. I intend to work these colors in a pattern for these. They look neat-o. And then at the end, I'll have cool socks!
I fucked up the jacket I'm knitting. The pattern motif is off by ONE STITCH. When did I make this mistake? At the beginning of a round. When did I realize I made this mistake? At the end of the round. I just don't have it in my heart to rip back 258 stitches and knit the round again any time soon, so I give up on trying to knit this garment on a deadline.
I'll just knit fair isle socks for the damn scholarship. Just as colorful, just as "wow" to non-knitters, and small. Small enough to finish in a few days. Except...
have I ever mentioned I've never knitted a sock before?
Ha. Still, if I spend a few days knitting, I should be able to pull off finishing these before April 2nd. It's totally doable. I've got a few yarn balls in my stash that I can use to learn how to make the sock, and then today I nipped out to my local, little yarn store and bought two skeins of Cascade sock yarn. One in green, on in a soft gold-yellow. I intend to work these colors in a pattern for these. They look neat-o. And then at the end, I'll have cool socks!
Jillian Whoever-the-fuck's 30 Day Shred
So, my sister-aunt roped me into doing this 30 Day Miracle Workout. The conversation went like this:
Sister-aunt: Hey, want to do Jillian Whoever-the-fuck's 30 Day Workout with me?
Me: Sure.
Today we tried the first day. I kind of regret this decision because have I ever mentioned that I don't really believe in killing yourself to lose weight? A lot of this comes from my reading of yoga and yoga philosophy, which states very bluntly to love and listen to your body. In my opinion, workouts that make you collapse do not fit the definition of loving your body. And, admittedly, some of this may come from the fact that I am a comfort schmooze and I don't enjoy being uncomfortable. I think exercise should be something you enjoy, not something you dread. Exercise should be difficult, yes, but not to the point of you wanting to collapse. You should come out of a work out feeling strong and energized, not like falling into a pile of human mush and lying there until your dying day.
But oh well. It won't kill me to give up 20 minutes of my day to Jillian Whoever-the-fuck for a month. I can do 20 minutes a day, certainly. Ideally, you're supposed to lose about 10 to 15 pounds if you keep at it everyday. I would like to lose weight, so I guess I'll just stick through it.
If you need me, you'll find me on the Lose Weight for Summer Bikini Weather Band Wagon.
Sister-aunt: Hey, want to do Jillian Whoever-the-fuck's 30 Day Workout with me?
Me: Sure.
Today we tried the first day. I kind of regret this decision because have I ever mentioned that I don't really believe in killing yourself to lose weight? A lot of this comes from my reading of yoga and yoga philosophy, which states very bluntly to love and listen to your body. In my opinion, workouts that make you collapse do not fit the definition of loving your body. And, admittedly, some of this may come from the fact that I am a comfort schmooze and I don't enjoy being uncomfortable. I think exercise should be something you enjoy, not something you dread. Exercise should be difficult, yes, but not to the point of you wanting to collapse. You should come out of a work out feeling strong and energized, not like falling into a pile of human mush and lying there until your dying day.
But oh well. It won't kill me to give up 20 minutes of my day to Jillian Whoever-the-fuck for a month. I can do 20 minutes a day, certainly. Ideally, you're supposed to lose about 10 to 15 pounds if you keep at it everyday. I would like to lose weight, so I guess I'll just stick through it.
If you need me, you'll find me on the Lose Weight for Summer Bikini Weather Band Wagon.
Totally irrelevant whining about mosquitoes
Today is going to be my day where I just huddle in my room and read and knit. It will be good. I might get some laundry done today, but you never know. I have been meaning to do laundry for the past two weeks, after all.
So I'm reading this book: Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert. It's charming, she's charming, it's a good read, in my opinion. So, towards the middle of the book, she's talking about problems she has with meditation. So she decides to try Vipassana meditation, which is where you meditate in complete stillness - no mantra, no moving, nothing. She sits in a garden in the evening and then she realizes she's going to get eaten by mosquitoes if she stays put. But she does it anyway and rides out the discomfort, achieving her little euphoria, etc. She stays there for two hours.
At the end, how many mosquito bites does she have?
TWENTY. TWENTY FREAKING MOSQUITO BITES IN TWO FREAKING HOURS. HOW IS SHE SO LUCKY?
Okay, some explaining. This may not be a big deal to anyone, but this is kind of a big deal to me, considering that mosquitoes must consider my blood to be gourmet or something. If I had meditated without moving in evening - in India, where, quoth Richard from Texas, the mosquitoes are "big enough to rape chickens" - I'd be drained of blood. I'd lose a pint, at least.
Let me put this into perspective for you. I once went to a bonfire about a year ago towards dusk at the end of summer. I had on jeans and a hoodie to protect myself, plus a lot of bug spray. The mosquitoes bite me on my neck, on my hands, THROUGH MY CLOTHING - totally disregarding the smoke from the fire and the spray. I spend about an hour there before I get fed up and leave. In the morning, how many mosquito bites do I have? I counted them. EIGHTY-SEVEN.
HOW CAN SHE SIT IN INDIA AND ONLY GET TWENTY MOSQUITO BITES IN TWO HOURS WHEN I ALWAYS GET EATEN ALIVE?
AAAAAAAAAAAAH.
So I'm reading this book: Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert. It's charming, she's charming, it's a good read, in my opinion. So, towards the middle of the book, she's talking about problems she has with meditation. So she decides to try Vipassana meditation, which is where you meditate in complete stillness - no mantra, no moving, nothing. She sits in a garden in the evening and then she realizes she's going to get eaten by mosquitoes if she stays put. But she does it anyway and rides out the discomfort, achieving her little euphoria, etc. She stays there for two hours.
At the end, how many mosquito bites does she have?
TWENTY. TWENTY FREAKING MOSQUITO BITES IN TWO FREAKING HOURS. HOW IS SHE SO LUCKY?
Okay, some explaining. This may not be a big deal to anyone, but this is kind of a big deal to me, considering that mosquitoes must consider my blood to be gourmet or something. If I had meditated without moving in evening - in India, where, quoth Richard from Texas, the mosquitoes are "big enough to rape chickens" - I'd be drained of blood. I'd lose a pint, at least.
Let me put this into perspective for you. I once went to a bonfire about a year ago towards dusk at the end of summer. I had on jeans and a hoodie to protect myself, plus a lot of bug spray. The mosquitoes bite me on my neck, on my hands, THROUGH MY CLOTHING - totally disregarding the smoke from the fire and the spray. I spend about an hour there before I get fed up and leave. In the morning, how many mosquito bites do I have? I counted them. EIGHTY-SEVEN.
HOW CAN SHE SIT IN INDIA AND ONLY GET TWENTY MOSQUITO BITES IN TWO HOURS WHEN I ALWAYS GET EATEN ALIVE?
AAAAAAAAAAAAH.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Personal life, etc.
There are two different philosophies about blogging out there. One, which a blog I read follows, is that people should not be named and the private life is just that -- private. She rarely blogs about big family or personal issues. Another is to blog about whatever the fuck you want, regardless of who reads or who you mention. I don't really know a whole lot of people who follow that one.
For me, my public life and private life are sort of like a Venn diagram with major overlap. There are very few things that I don't tell people about my personal life. I used to be much more open than I am now, which is saying something, considering I'm pretty open as it is. And while it's all fine and dandy to skip the petty trivialities of life, some things just come crashing down out of the sky and in a journal, it's hard not to record that. So if you'd rather not read a personal story, nobody's making you.
This is about my cousin who's not really my cousin. My uncle has since gotten divorced by woman he married nine years ago (more power to her -- my uncle's an asshole, but this isn't the place to discuss that), but I still very much consider my not-really-aunt to be my aunt, and her four kids who are not-really-cousins to be my cousins. They are family to me, at least, even if they aren't so close to the rest of my family anymore.
My cousin is just two months younger than me, and right from the start we were two peas in a pod. We grew up in two very different lifestyles, and so as a result, we are two very different people. And when I say different, I mean different. She's kind of what I would call a "ghetto hippie," if such a thing existed. Her family is kind of poor, and so they get by with what they can. They're very into the hippie scene, though. Tie-dye shirts, trippy blankets, Alice in Wonderland, pot, jam sessions, Jerry Garcia -- the whole nine yards. The ghetto part comes from my cousin hanging around some shady people who she's never quite been able to shake the influence of. Me, well. I read and knit, am incredibly and hardcore straightedge (never tried alcohol, drugs, smoking -- nothing, and I don't plan on it), and in school I get good grades, am a successful debater on the team, and hang around similar people.
We come from two completely different backgrounds, and if we weren't related then we would certainly either (a) not know each other, or (b) hate each other. But my cousin is one of my two very, very best friends. The kind of friend you know you'll have forever, even if you're separated for years.
About a month ago she was driving around with her boyfriend, and I guess they had weed or something, but they got pulled over and arrested. I've never really liked any of the guys she's dated, but after this happened, my semi-dislike of the guy magnified hundred-fold. She told me she wasn't going to hang around him anymore. Five days later, I saw them together in school, which is kind of a big deal because he doesn't go to our school, never did, and graduated from whatever high school he went to two years ago. I turned around and walked the other direction, and that was the last time I saw her since then.
That night she ran off with him, and this severely wounded me. I was angry and shocked, actually, because the whole "best friend" thing was mutual. My cousin was always telling me about how I was her closest friend, and she couldn't rely on anyone the way she could rely on me (which is kind of true. I'm a pushover and it's not hard to get me to do things for you... and when I say not hard, I really mean pathetically easy). After nine years of sticking with her through her mental illness, drug addiction, a pregnancy or two (both... uh... canceled), and even running away... I mean, we'd been through thick and thin. Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Thick as thieves. And then she goes and chooses her fuckface of boyfriend who she'd been dating for a MONTH, and CHOOSES HIM OVER ME.
Needless to say, I was/am not happy. I cried quite a few nights because I just missed her so much, because I was hurt and angry that she'd completely fooled me into thinking she wasn't going to turn out like the fuckers she hung around with. Unfortunately, my cousin is a master at telling people what they want to hear, and I am no exception from the people she sells fodder to. I pondered what I would say if she ever called me -- the clipped greeting, her tentative approach for forgiveness, the verbal thrashing she'd get for abandoning me, and finally, the single click of resolve as I hung up. Then that'd be it. Then I just got so weary of thinking about it that I decided if she ever did call me, I don't know what I'd do. I stopped talking when people mentioned her. I didn't want to talk about her or her boyfriend or her situation or what she'd been that I was ignorant to, or anything.
They found her last night. Well, arrested is more accurate. Detained, maybe? She's in a mental facility... not in jail. When she told the police she was 18, they treated her like an adult and put her in this bus thing where she saw a dead body in a bodybag, and then when she went to Adult Jail she freaked out and had a breakdown. So now she's in a mental facility and my aunt is going to go get her tomorrow night.
My family is not going to be happy. After everything she's put us through, put me through, even though she's as foul an influence as ever was... well. I love her. She's not as tough as she puts on. She needs someone to be her friend, help her, and show her love. And that will inevitably be me. I know that there's a very good person inside of her, because she was that person when we were together. I can't trust her, really... I won't know if what she's saying is true or false. I don't even want to know where she was or what she did during the time she was gone. But I've already made up my mind. There wasn't even an option in the first place.
For me, my public life and private life are sort of like a Venn diagram with major overlap. There are very few things that I don't tell people about my personal life. I used to be much more open than I am now, which is saying something, considering I'm pretty open as it is. And while it's all fine and dandy to skip the petty trivialities of life, some things just come crashing down out of the sky and in a journal, it's hard not to record that. So if you'd rather not read a personal story, nobody's making you.
This is about my cousin who's not really my cousin. My uncle has since gotten divorced by woman he married nine years ago (more power to her -- my uncle's an asshole, but this isn't the place to discuss that), but I still very much consider my not-really-aunt to be my aunt, and her four kids who are not-really-cousins to be my cousins. They are family to me, at least, even if they aren't so close to the rest of my family anymore.
My cousin is just two months younger than me, and right from the start we were two peas in a pod. We grew up in two very different lifestyles, and so as a result, we are two very different people. And when I say different, I mean different. She's kind of what I would call a "ghetto hippie," if such a thing existed. Her family is kind of poor, and so they get by with what they can. They're very into the hippie scene, though. Tie-dye shirts, trippy blankets, Alice in Wonderland, pot, jam sessions, Jerry Garcia -- the whole nine yards. The ghetto part comes from my cousin hanging around some shady people who she's never quite been able to shake the influence of. Me, well. I read and knit, am incredibly and hardcore straightedge (never tried alcohol, drugs, smoking -- nothing, and I don't plan on it), and in school I get good grades, am a successful debater on the team, and hang around similar people.
We come from two completely different backgrounds, and if we weren't related then we would certainly either (a) not know each other, or (b) hate each other. But my cousin is one of my two very, very best friends. The kind of friend you know you'll have forever, even if you're separated for years.
About a month ago she was driving around with her boyfriend, and I guess they had weed or something, but they got pulled over and arrested. I've never really liked any of the guys she's dated, but after this happened, my semi-dislike of the guy magnified hundred-fold. She told me she wasn't going to hang around him anymore. Five days later, I saw them together in school, which is kind of a big deal because he doesn't go to our school, never did, and graduated from whatever high school he went to two years ago. I turned around and walked the other direction, and that was the last time I saw her since then.
That night she ran off with him, and this severely wounded me. I was angry and shocked, actually, because the whole "best friend" thing was mutual. My cousin was always telling me about how I was her closest friend, and she couldn't rely on anyone the way she could rely on me (which is kind of true. I'm a pushover and it's not hard to get me to do things for you... and when I say not hard, I really mean pathetically easy). After nine years of sticking with her through her mental illness, drug addiction, a pregnancy or two (both... uh... canceled), and even running away... I mean, we'd been through thick and thin. Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Thick as thieves. And then she goes and chooses her fuckface of boyfriend who she'd been dating for a MONTH, and CHOOSES HIM OVER ME.
Needless to say, I was/am not happy. I cried quite a few nights because I just missed her so much, because I was hurt and angry that she'd completely fooled me into thinking she wasn't going to turn out like the fuckers she hung around with. Unfortunately, my cousin is a master at telling people what they want to hear, and I am no exception from the people she sells fodder to. I pondered what I would say if she ever called me -- the clipped greeting, her tentative approach for forgiveness, the verbal thrashing she'd get for abandoning me, and finally, the single click of resolve as I hung up. Then that'd be it. Then I just got so weary of thinking about it that I decided if she ever did call me, I don't know what I'd do. I stopped talking when people mentioned her. I didn't want to talk about her or her boyfriend or her situation or what she'd been that I was ignorant to, or anything.
They found her last night. Well, arrested is more accurate. Detained, maybe? She's in a mental facility... not in jail. When she told the police she was 18, they treated her like an adult and put her in this bus thing where she saw a dead body in a bodybag, and then when she went to Adult Jail she freaked out and had a breakdown. So now she's in a mental facility and my aunt is going to go get her tomorrow night.
My family is not going to be happy. After everything she's put us through, put me through, even though she's as foul an influence as ever was... well. I love her. She's not as tough as she puts on. She needs someone to be her friend, help her, and show her love. And that will inevitably be me. I know that there's a very good person inside of her, because she was that person when we were together. I can't trust her, really... I won't know if what she's saying is true or false. I don't even want to know where she was or what she did during the time she was gone. But I've already made up my mind. There wasn't even an option in the first place.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Spring break
After four glorious days of lovely, sunny spring weather... the clouds are back. As is the cold. Pheh. Today is the first day of my spring break, and it would be a lovely day to just sit and soak in the indoor weather, hunker down, and knit my heart out. It'd be lovely. Unfortunately, I have previous engagements.
I ended up skipping my blood donation appointment yesterday in favor of a nap. It worked out well.
Aaaaand not much else to say. I was in fair risk of bombing my Japanese IA, but Sparks-sensei let me do it over again and all was well. Sometimes I love that guy, and sometimes he's a pain in my ass. I always wonder what he thinks of my Japanese abilities though, lol.
I ended up skipping my blood donation appointment yesterday in favor of a nap. It worked out well.
Aaaaand not much else to say. I was in fair risk of bombing my Japanese IA, but Sparks-sensei let me do it over again and all was well. Sometimes I love that guy, and sometimes he's a pain in my ass. I always wonder what he thinks of my Japanese abilities though, lol.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Pheh.
I'm ready to run away to some remote Southeast Asian country and become a Buddhist monk now.
Today's agenda includes two tests, an internal assessment to give, a quiz, giving blood, working, and Bree is coming over tonight and my grandmother wants us to make her some tiramasu.
Do any of you see a time for a nap in there?
Did I mention that I run on naps?
Yeah.
Actually, I'll probably end up having a great day despite the odds of it becoming a huge pile of suck. That's usually how it works, lol. At least I got a decent amount of sleep last night!
Today's agenda includes two tests, an internal assessment to give, a quiz, giving blood, working, and Bree is coming over tonight and my grandmother wants us to make her some tiramasu.
Do any of you see a time for a nap in there?
Did I mention that I run on naps?
Yeah.
Actually, I'll probably end up having a great day despite the odds of it becoming a huge pile of suck. That's usually how it works, lol. At least I got a decent amount of sleep last night!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Sweaters and books
It has begun.
Last night I finished the ribbing on the bottom of my sweater and started on the body and colorwork. It's not that bad once you get in the groove. I was doing this at midnight, though, mind you, and so I only got through five pattern repeats (out of fourteen) before I decided that I'd better go to bed or I'd sincerely regret it in the morning. I'm excited. It's going to look great when it's done, even though it's not exactly the prettiest thing in the world. The colors I chose for the jacket are a black background with a heather jade foreground. They looked beautiful when put next to each other, though when knitted up the green looks darker against the black ('twas expected). You know those pieces of clothing that are kind of ehhh, but people just wear them so much that they look good?
I don't know. That's kind of vague. My cousin was able to pull off that look all the time, where she took questionable pieces of clothing and just was able to make them look fine. If there's anything my cousin taught me, it's to make do with what you have and make it fabulous. That and to love color. Which are two valuable lessons, when I think about it.
In other news, I went to Barnes & Noble today and got more books, which is absolutely shameful of me. I'd say that a good third of the books on my shelf (maybe a fourth) haven't been read yet. I have a disease where I buy books faster than I can read them. But I can't help it! I walk into Barnes & Noble and always walk out with a book... or two or six. I love books. Books are beautiful and I am addicted to them. I can never resist. :D
So, what I got today: Essentials of Philosophy, Kingdom of Ten Thousand Things, The Mistress's Daughter, and The Last Empress. They all looked rather intriguing. I might also add that I judge a book based on its cover all the time... titles also draw me in.
Right now, I'm reading The Seamstress, which is about two sisters who are (who would have guessed?) seamstresses in a small town in Brazil around the 1930's. They each get swallowed up into political life outside of their small village in very different ways, and the book is about their lives and how they relate to each other. It's good so far, but the book is kind of slow. And deceivingly thick! Not that I'm one to complain, but it looks like it'd be about a 400 page book... nope. It's 648 pages. I don't know where they hide all those extra pages!
Last night I finished the ribbing on the bottom of my sweater and started on the body and colorwork. It's not that bad once you get in the groove. I was doing this at midnight, though, mind you, and so I only got through five pattern repeats (out of fourteen) before I decided that I'd better go to bed or I'd sincerely regret it in the morning. I'm excited. It's going to look great when it's done, even though it's not exactly the prettiest thing in the world. The colors I chose for the jacket are a black background with a heather jade foreground. They looked beautiful when put next to each other, though when knitted up the green looks darker against the black ('twas expected). You know those pieces of clothing that are kind of ehhh, but people just wear them so much that they look good?
I don't know. That's kind of vague. My cousin was able to pull off that look all the time, where she took questionable pieces of clothing and just was able to make them look fine. If there's anything my cousin taught me, it's to make do with what you have and make it fabulous. That and to love color. Which are two valuable lessons, when I think about it.
In other news, I went to Barnes & Noble today and got more books, which is absolutely shameful of me. I'd say that a good third of the books on my shelf (maybe a fourth) haven't been read yet. I have a disease where I buy books faster than I can read them. But I can't help it! I walk into Barnes & Noble and always walk out with a book... or two or six. I love books. Books are beautiful and I am addicted to them. I can never resist. :D
So, what I got today: Essentials of Philosophy, Kingdom of Ten Thousand Things, The Mistress's Daughter, and The Last Empress. They all looked rather intriguing. I might also add that I judge a book based on its cover all the time... titles also draw me in.
Right now, I'm reading The Seamstress, which is about two sisters who are (who would have guessed?) seamstresses in a small town in Brazil around the 1930's. They each get swallowed up into political life outside of their small village in very different ways, and the book is about their lives and how they relate to each other. It's good so far, but the book is kind of slow. And deceivingly thick! Not that I'm one to complain, but it looks like it'd be about a 400 page book... nope. It's 648 pages. I don't know where they hide all those extra pages!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Blog post the first
Hello everyone (or most likely, no one). This is the christening post, the maiden voyage of permanent bloghood. Maybe. I'm notorious for hopping around journals and blogs. I'm a scarlet woman when it comes to journal commitment. But I'm going to make a genuine effort with this one!
Things I guess you should know when reading my diarrhea of the fingers:
1. I procrastinate like a fiend. A lot of this blog will be me whinging about things I have to do in a rush because I've procrastinated them, but, c'est la vie. I'm the best procrastinator anyone I've known has ever met, and this blog post is, in fact, procrastination.
2. I have way too many interests. And I mean WAY too many interests. There are seven (million?) things I'd like to do when I grow up. Translation, philosophy, yoga teacher, midwifery, teaching, opening up a baker shop, being a housewife. I'm interesting in pretty much everything except math. And even then, I'm super interested in math theory. Just not working out the actual problems, because I always fuck them up.
3. I swear. Sorry.
4. I'm 17, a senior in high school, completing a somewhat questionable IB program. Next year, funds providing, I'll be heading off to college. Funds not providing... well. I don't want to think about that.
5. I read, knit, and learn languages. I absolutely love different cultures. That's pretty much my life.
Yep. Groundwork for me.
Things I have to do between now and Friday:
(1) Finish a Japanese internal assessment
(2) Read chapters 3, 4, and 5 of After Virtue
(3) Finish math homework due tomorrow
(4) Study for a P&A test (physiology and anatomy)
(5) Do P&A homework
(6) Complete assorted reader response journals for English
(7) Find time to knit my scholarship sweater, which happens to be my first sweater AND my first steeking project AND my first colorwork project. Tackling big mountains here, I am.
(8) Throw away three hours of my day tomorrow working.
(9) Study for a math test. Ha.
Things I guess you should know when reading my diarrhea of the fingers:
1. I procrastinate like a fiend. A lot of this blog will be me whinging about things I have to do in a rush because I've procrastinated them, but, c'est la vie. I'm the best procrastinator anyone I've known has ever met, and this blog post is, in fact, procrastination.
2. I have way too many interests. And I mean WAY too many interests. There are seven (million?) things I'd like to do when I grow up. Translation, philosophy, yoga teacher, midwifery, teaching, opening up a baker shop, being a housewife. I'm interesting in pretty much everything except math. And even then, I'm super interested in math theory. Just not working out the actual problems, because I always fuck them up.
3. I swear. Sorry.
4. I'm 17, a senior in high school, completing a somewhat questionable IB program. Next year, funds providing, I'll be heading off to college. Funds not providing... well. I don't want to think about that.
5. I read, knit, and learn languages. I absolutely love different cultures. That's pretty much my life.
Yep. Groundwork for me.
Things I have to do between now and Friday:
(1) Finish a Japanese internal assessment
(2) Read chapters 3, 4, and 5 of After Virtue
(3) Finish math homework due tomorrow
(4) Study for a P&A test (physiology and anatomy)
(5) Do P&A homework
(6) Complete assorted reader response journals for English
(7) Find time to knit my scholarship sweater, which happens to be my first sweater AND my first steeking project AND my first colorwork project. Tackling big mountains here, I am.
(8) Throw away three hours of my day tomorrow working.
(9) Study for a math test. Ha.
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