Just returned from seeing Slumdog Millionaire.
Brilliant film.
Not only was the plot highly intriguing and entertaining, but the manner in which it was displayed was unique and "page-turning", as it would be, for a movie. The premise is that this uneducated man, Jamal, goes on the show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and he continually answers correctly, so they accuse him of cheating, torture him a little bit, then interrogate him to get answers for hsi answers. Subsequently, we go on a journey through his whole life, so we understand why it is he knows all the answers. It exposes you to some of the horrors Indian children have endured and continue to endure, and exalts the disturbing culture of red light districts and gang violence. It's unsettling and profound. Anyway, it is decided that he wasn't actually cheating, and he's become this huge celebrity among all of the poor people, because this is their favourite show, and he is on it, and he is winning, and he is one of them. It has a suspenseful build up and a climax that was truly unknowable. It was fascinating, entertaining, culturing, and overall just so brilliant. Actors were well-chosen, plot was well-written (based on a novel), soundtrack was effective and enjoyable, photography was so unique and beautiful and every other little quirk in this film was outstandingly executed. While some aspects of this film are deeply unnerving with their blunt actuality and realness, I left the theatre with a satisfied smile on my face and a recommendation for all people on my tongue.
Definitely deserving of Academy Award Nominations, hope it does well. I raise a glass to this distinguished work of art.
More words I would use to describe this show: exceptional, meritorious, magnificent, fabulous, tremendous, stellar, awesome, superior, sick, unbeatable, inconceivable, legendary, fantastic, phenomenal, superb.
It takes a freaking awesome movie to get me to yank out words like that.
Definitely on my excellent movie list.
(Y)
21 February 2009
20 February 2009
Geekisms
Wowza. Long time no post, here. I've been sommat busy and been paying mroe mind to my other blog, which is sort of like a story, so it has more emotional attachment and reading/writing fulfillment. Anyway, check it out if you want. No obligation, obviously. Not a whole lot going on, other than being a geeky loser, being by myself on the computer on a Friday night. What else is new.
15 February 2009
Patience: My Strongest Point
Tonight was an aggravating night at work.
For one, we got there way too late for my liking, so I was bummed about that before I even got there, and then when we did get in the place we had to do surgery on the broken vacuum ourselves, which ate up a good fifteen minutes. Fixing the old weathered vacuum is not our responsibility and I was not impressed that I had to deal with it.
Then, when I went to take out the garbage, I had the car keys and the garbage keys in my hand, so that I could put the vacuum in the trunk and then go unlock the garbage bin. Somehow, I ended up leaving the garbage keys, which also happened to be attached to the keys to the building, on the table inside the building without knowing it, so after I put the vacuum in the trunk, I looked into my hands and only one bundle of keys was there. Oh, crap, I thought. I've lost the keys again (thought I lost the keys once for a whole week, very disastrous). I unlocked the trunk once again and ransacked it, but nothing showed up. I was freaking out inside and also punching myself in the head (inside) for being such a freaking idiot once again. I looked everywhere for them: under the car, amongst the garbage bags and recycling, the general doorway vicinity. I ransacked the trunk about five times. Serious internal freak outs going on here.
By this time I had been scrounging around in a panic for a good six or seven minutes and was becoming increasingly cold, so I unlocked the car and grabbed a hat I saw in the back seat. I decided that maybe there was a chance I had dropped the keys on my way out and that they were not lost at all. So I waited outside the door for my mopper, Mom, to walk by and hear me blanging on the door like a maniac, and she would let me in, and I would be grateful and warm and reassured.
No such luck.
After another good five minutes of standing there, and trying to pull the keys out from under the metal door unsuccessfully (only reaping a dried-up June bug carcass), I was desperate. I was freezing cold and there was still always the chance that I had actually lost the keys.
I walked over to the windows of the common room/kitchen and as usual the blinds were shut on the bottom half and open on the top half. I tried peeking through the bottom half to see if maybe the keys were on the table and I could at least feel good about not having lost them, but the blinds would allow no access, as was their duty. So, with little hesitation, I climbed up on the windowsill and peered in through the top half of the blinds. I was thinking how scared Mom would be if she saw a person staring in through the window at 1030 at night, but I wanted inside. Bad. I was so cold.
I still could not see the table, or the keys which I was not sure were on it, and Mom never walked by. I kept climbing back up, on both windowsills, and I felt like a complete lunatic. Eventually I gave up and just stood by the door, kicking it half-heartedly.
FINALLY I hear Mom, so I banged extra hard on the door.
She didn't hear me.
I ran over to the windowsill and knocked on it really fast, trying as hard as I could to see through the blinds and give her a pleading, desperate look I was sure was on my face. Well, I didn't see through, but she heard me and let me in.
I found the keys on the table and went back outside, in the cold, cold night.
I carried the garbage bags across the lost to the bin, and I threw them down triumphantly. I pulled out the keys and tried to unblock the bin lock.
It was frozen.
I had to stand there for another TEN WASTED MINUTES trying to force the stupid key into the lock, and once I finally did, it wouldn't turn. I tried to force it into turning, but it would not budge.
With mounting anger, I took a breather.
I returned to the RIDICULOUS task at hand and self-anti-freezed it with my breath and hands, which wouldn't have been such a big deal, if after sprinting back and forth across the parking lot I couldn't get the lock shut again, so I had to re-anti-freeze it.
I had been outside for like fifteen minutes doing what should have taken two.
I was SO FRUSTRATED. Rrrrg. You have no idea. It may not seem all that frustrating, but it was. I was cold and tired and grumpy and frustrated. I kicked viciously at an old garbage bag that was not mine, and its contents went flying about. I squished my feet hard into the ground, making a very loud, grinding noise with he sand on the pavement. I swung at a wiggly pole sticking out of the ground to mark a place or something. I thrust the recycling into the bin with vigour, then threw the newly emptied bin upon the ground.
And then I waited around outside again because the car keys were inside and the doors were locked.
P.S. My Valentine's Day SUCKED yesterday. Well I guess it was two days ago now. Either way.
SUCKED.
For one, we got there way too late for my liking, so I was bummed about that before I even got there, and then when we did get in the place we had to do surgery on the broken vacuum ourselves, which ate up a good fifteen minutes. Fixing the old weathered vacuum is not our responsibility and I was not impressed that I had to deal with it.
Then, when I went to take out the garbage, I had the car keys and the garbage keys in my hand, so that I could put the vacuum in the trunk and then go unlock the garbage bin. Somehow, I ended up leaving the garbage keys, which also happened to be attached to the keys to the building, on the table inside the building without knowing it, so after I put the vacuum in the trunk, I looked into my hands and only one bundle of keys was there. Oh, crap, I thought. I've lost the keys again (thought I lost the keys once for a whole week, very disastrous). I unlocked the trunk once again and ransacked it, but nothing showed up. I was freaking out inside and also punching myself in the head (inside) for being such a freaking idiot once again. I looked everywhere for them: under the car, amongst the garbage bags and recycling, the general doorway vicinity. I ransacked the trunk about five times. Serious internal freak outs going on here.
By this time I had been scrounging around in a panic for a good six or seven minutes and was becoming increasingly cold, so I unlocked the car and grabbed a hat I saw in the back seat. I decided that maybe there was a chance I had dropped the keys on my way out and that they were not lost at all. So I waited outside the door for my mopper, Mom, to walk by and hear me blanging on the door like a maniac, and she would let me in, and I would be grateful and warm and reassured.
No such luck.
After another good five minutes of standing there, and trying to pull the keys out from under the metal door unsuccessfully (only reaping a dried-up June bug carcass), I was desperate. I was freezing cold and there was still always the chance that I had actually lost the keys.
I walked over to the windows of the common room/kitchen and as usual the blinds were shut on the bottom half and open on the top half. I tried peeking through the bottom half to see if maybe the keys were on the table and I could at least feel good about not having lost them, but the blinds would allow no access, as was their duty. So, with little hesitation, I climbed up on the windowsill and peered in through the top half of the blinds. I was thinking how scared Mom would be if she saw a person staring in through the window at 1030 at night, but I wanted inside. Bad. I was so cold.
I still could not see the table, or the keys which I was not sure were on it, and Mom never walked by. I kept climbing back up, on both windowsills, and I felt like a complete lunatic. Eventually I gave up and just stood by the door, kicking it half-heartedly.
FINALLY I hear Mom, so I banged extra hard on the door.
She didn't hear me.
I ran over to the windowsill and knocked on it really fast, trying as hard as I could to see through the blinds and give her a pleading, desperate look I was sure was on my face. Well, I didn't see through, but she heard me and let me in.
I found the keys on the table and went back outside, in the cold, cold night.
I carried the garbage bags across the lost to the bin, and I threw them down triumphantly. I pulled out the keys and tried to unblock the bin lock.
It was frozen.
I had to stand there for another TEN WASTED MINUTES trying to force the stupid key into the lock, and once I finally did, it wouldn't turn. I tried to force it into turning, but it would not budge.
With mounting anger, I took a breather.
I returned to the RIDICULOUS task at hand and self-anti-freezed it with my breath and hands, which wouldn't have been such a big deal, if after sprinting back and forth across the parking lot I couldn't get the lock shut again, so I had to re-anti-freeze it.
I had been outside for like fifteen minutes doing what should have taken two.
I was SO FRUSTRATED. Rrrrg. You have no idea. It may not seem all that frustrating, but it was. I was cold and tired and grumpy and frustrated. I kicked viciously at an old garbage bag that was not mine, and its contents went flying about. I squished my feet hard into the ground, making a very loud, grinding noise with he sand on the pavement. I swung at a wiggly pole sticking out of the ground to mark a place or something. I thrust the recycling into the bin with vigour, then threw the newly emptied bin upon the ground.
And then I waited around outside again because the car keys were inside and the doors were locked.
P.S. My Valentine's Day SUCKED yesterday. Well I guess it was two days ago now. Either way.
SUCKED.
14 February 2009
The Result of People Attempting Flight
I just came across more urbandictionary.com loveliness.
Homework: Homework is the f**king scum of the earth.
Ontario: Ontario is the most important province in Canada.
I love Ontarians, they support the rest of Canada.
I hate Ontarians, because I am a right-wing red neck freak from Alberta.
Ontario, the land of everything!!!
Claustrophobia: An intense, abnormal fear of Santa Claus. "Oh, gosh, no, it's Claus! Run! HE HAS ELVES WITH HIM!!!!!"
Coin Wanking: The act of jangling spare change in a suit pant trouser, usually done by males office workers whilst chatting with co-workers
Ears: Organs used by humans to estimate the stupidity of other people.
What: If you use what too many times, Samuel L. Jackson will shoot you.
Dang: A phrase that is used by people who are afraid, for some reason, of saying "damn"
And finally.......
Stupid: Twilight.
Homework: Homework is the f**king scum of the earth.
Ontario: Ontario is the most important province in Canada.
I love Ontarians, they support the rest of Canada.
I hate Ontarians, because I am a right-wing red neck freak from Alberta.
Ontario, the land of everything!!!
Claustrophobia: An intense, abnormal fear of Santa Claus. "Oh, gosh, no, it's Claus! Run! HE HAS ELVES WITH HIM!!!!!"
Coin Wanking: The act of jangling spare change in a suit pant trouser, usually done by males office workers whilst chatting with co-workers
Ears: Organs used by humans to estimate the stupidity of other people.
What: If you use what too many times, Samuel L. Jackson will shoot you.
Dang: A phrase that is used by people who are afraid, for some reason, of saying "damn"
And finally.......
Stupid: Twilight.
The GINMASTER 3000
This is how we go.
So you have zero blogs now.
I'm good with that.
I don't think you should be good with that. You're setting low, low standards.
I am? How?......Are you saying I should write a blog?
I am saying that Ginny!
Does that mean I actually have to? It would be worse than Katelyn's.
No it wouldn't. I would love if you had a blog.
And why would you love it if I had one?
I just would, okay Ginnerootootootie?
Okay. I'm not going to writing one though, so you might be disappointed.
DO IT. I command you to.
You command me? It doesnt work that way Callie. I have nothing to write about anyway.
DO IT!!!! It must work that way. I'm using telekinesis to move your hands to the mouse to open a new window and get a blog going.
I don't have a mouse.
Whatever! Please make a blog before I throw up.
Why would you throw up?
Because you make me sick.
That's disappointing.
So are you.
I have nothing to write about.
How about I give you a topic, and you write an efficient but not thrifty opinion on it?
But why?
Because that's what blogs DO. Ha, ha, the past me is so hilarious. As is the present, but regardless...
Where did that come from? You think the present you is hilarious?
I know it, Ginfrancophone, I know it.
Okay. I know it too.
Good. Do you also know that writing a blog is your moral obligation in these difficult times of economic crisis? Or crises, I should say?
Really. What does a blog have to do with that.
EVERYTHING.
How?
Does it even matter any more? Oh Ginny, apathy is setting in. You could free me from it. Please, please, I beg of you, take that step: write a blog.
But I have nothing to write about. And you beg of me a lot.
What can I say? Dignity is one of my strongest points.
As far as I know, that blog is still pending.
:+
So you have zero blogs now.
I'm good with that.
I don't think you should be good with that. You're setting low, low standards.
I am? How?......Are you saying I should write a blog?
I am saying that Ginny!
Does that mean I actually have to? It would be worse than Katelyn's.
No it wouldn't. I would love if you had a blog.
And why would you love it if I had one?
I just would, okay Ginnerootootootie?
Okay. I'm not going to writing one though, so you might be disappointed.
DO IT. I command you to.
You command me? It doesnt work that way Callie. I have nothing to write about anyway.
DO IT!!!! It must work that way. I'm using telekinesis to move your hands to the mouse to open a new window and get a blog going.
I don't have a mouse.
Whatever! Please make a blog before I throw up.
Why would you throw up?
Because you make me sick.
That's disappointing.
So are you.
I have nothing to write about.
How about I give you a topic, and you write an efficient but not thrifty opinion on it?
But why?
Because that's what blogs DO. Ha, ha, the past me is so hilarious. As is the present, but regardless...
Where did that come from? You think the present you is hilarious?
I know it, Ginfrancophone, I know it.
Okay. I know it too.
Good. Do you also know that writing a blog is your moral obligation in these difficult times of economic crisis? Or crises, I should say?
Really. What does a blog have to do with that.
EVERYTHING.
How?
Does it even matter any more? Oh Ginny, apathy is setting in. You could free me from it. Please, please, I beg of you, take that step: write a blog.
But I have nothing to write about. And you beg of me a lot.
What can I say? Dignity is one of my strongest points.
As far as I know, that blog is still pending.
:+
Beacon
I was just deleting all of my old crappy notes on facebook, what with my fabulous desire to turn over a new facebook leaf, but there are some bits and pieces that were just good enough to keep around here somewhere. so here they are.
Q: What is your current mood?
A: Crappy. I feel like I'm the undertaker and I've just killed someone I knew was innocent.
Q: Who is your favourite celebrity train wreck?
A: Celebrities can go roll in dirt.
Q: What is a theory you believe?
A: The Particle Theory.
Q: What are you looking forward to most?
A: Whenever this uncharacteristic cloud of despair vanishes from over my vulnerable spirit. ^That is called sad Callie.^
Q: Have you ever met a stripper?
A: Only the ones Rachel gets.
Q: Gave money to a stripper?
A: Only Rachel's. I give them special tips.
Q: Who do you hate the most?
A: Harrison, but it's not hate; I don't hate. It's more like passionate, aggressive dislike.
Q: What would you do if a leprechaun stole your wallet?
A: Woah, a leprechaun!
Q: Do you like it?
A: I...guess
Q: Are you kind to others?
A: Deep down I am, but superficially I seem like a sarcastic jerk.
Q: What would be your first reaction to someone pushing you?
A: Probably tripping.
There are many others things I would love to add, but I shall not, for it really is nothing of severe importance in my books.
Q: What is your current mood?
A: Crappy. I feel like I'm the undertaker and I've just killed someone I knew was innocent.
Q: Who is your favourite celebrity train wreck?
A: Celebrities can go roll in dirt.
Q: What is a theory you believe?
A: The Particle Theory.
Q: What are you looking forward to most?
A: Whenever this uncharacteristic cloud of despair vanishes from over my vulnerable spirit. ^That is called sad Callie.^
Q: Have you ever met a stripper?
A: Only the ones Rachel gets.
Q: Gave money to a stripper?
A: Only Rachel's. I give them special tips.
Q: Who do you hate the most?
A: Harrison, but it's not hate; I don't hate. It's more like passionate, aggressive dislike.
Q: What would you do if a leprechaun stole your wallet?
A: Woah, a leprechaun!
Q: Do you like it?
A: I...guess
Q: Are you kind to others?
A: Deep down I am, but superficially I seem like a sarcastic jerk.
Q: What would be your first reaction to someone pushing you?
A: Probably tripping.
There are many others things I would love to add, but I shall not, for it really is nothing of severe importance in my books.
12 February 2009
Baa
I did a very silly thing at dance today.
It should just be made known that I am very clutzy, and I crash into things and trip and spontaneously lose my balance frequently. I guess I can't handle my long limbs sometimes. Anyway, what I was getting to with this digression is that I kicked a huge hole in the wall one time at dance, and so now I am known as a wall-hole-making-person.
ANYWAY. I was already late for class, because I had been taking my time in the change room, and I was still in there after the whole class before me had left, except for Sam, who was still in there, also taking her time. Sam is a few years younger than me, and thus smaller, so I scooped her up in my arms and started to swing her around in circles in the very tiny and breakable change room. As if she wasn't freaked out enough as it was, on my second circle, I let go without thinking and she went flying, and screeching, into the wall face first and landed on the floor with a crumbly sound. It was SO FUNNY LOOKING. I mean, I know I must sound like a truly awful person, but it was hilarious. The way I had just randomly grabbed her and then practically threw her into the wall without even realising it, her limbs flailing all around and her eyes boggling. It was so funny. Her face totally smashed right into the wall and shook the whole room and she was laying on her stomach with her head turned and her one arm bent backwards against the wall and the other one all screwy on the floor, and her legs were all wild and she was moaning. It looked like she had fallen from some crazy high building and broken everything. It was so funny. She was fine, by the way. She laughed. So did I. But I was late for class, as aforementioned, so I just left her there all broken into pieces on the floor of the lonely change room, like a criminal leaving the scene of a very ridiculous crime, like trying to suffocate someone with whipped cream or something.
As a side note, Ginny is a violent locker-dealer-wither. She opened her locker so fast the other day, and thrust her wallet in with supreme speed, and the slammed it shut like she was hiding something, or like I might torture her by the same means of ancient civilizations, like the Wheel. I thought it was funny. She thinks it is untrue.
Also, I'm wearing pink, as it is Valentine's Dressing Up Week at dance (I keep wanting to say Halloween), and I have dance spirit for some reason. Pink is very unlike me. I feel like a sheep.
It should just be made known that I am very clutzy, and I crash into things and trip and spontaneously lose my balance frequently. I guess I can't handle my long limbs sometimes. Anyway, what I was getting to with this digression is that I kicked a huge hole in the wall one time at dance, and so now I am known as a wall-hole-making-person.
ANYWAY. I was already late for class, because I had been taking my time in the change room, and I was still in there after the whole class before me had left, except for Sam, who was still in there, also taking her time. Sam is a few years younger than me, and thus smaller, so I scooped her up in my arms and started to swing her around in circles in the very tiny and breakable change room. As if she wasn't freaked out enough as it was, on my second circle, I let go without thinking and she went flying, and screeching, into the wall face first and landed on the floor with a crumbly sound. It was SO FUNNY LOOKING. I mean, I know I must sound like a truly awful person, but it was hilarious. The way I had just randomly grabbed her and then practically threw her into the wall without even realising it, her limbs flailing all around and her eyes boggling. It was so funny. Her face totally smashed right into the wall and shook the whole room and she was laying on her stomach with her head turned and her one arm bent backwards against the wall and the other one all screwy on the floor, and her legs were all wild and she was moaning. It looked like she had fallen from some crazy high building and broken everything. It was so funny. She was fine, by the way. She laughed. So did I. But I was late for class, as aforementioned, so I just left her there all broken into pieces on the floor of the lonely change room, like a criminal leaving the scene of a very ridiculous crime, like trying to suffocate someone with whipped cream or something.
As a side note, Ginny is a violent locker-dealer-wither. She opened her locker so fast the other day, and thrust her wallet in with supreme speed, and the slammed it shut like she was hiding something, or like I might torture her by the same means of ancient civilizations, like the Wheel. I thought it was funny. She thinks it is untrue.
Also, I'm wearing pink, as it is Valentine's Dressing Up Week at dance (I keep wanting to say Halloween), and I have dance spirit for some reason. Pink is very unlike me. I feel like a sheep.
10 February 2009
Yay Making Friends
I was asking Lukas what I should blog about, and he said I should blog about him and how I'm in love with him, so I decided I would blog about him, but not how I'm in love with him, because I'm Not. How can you be in love with someone you don't know?
He asks that I narrate this blog from his perspective, as he's on the phone with me right now, so I will do that, as he dictates to me: our history, short as it may be.
It all started in art class, the first class I remember having with her. I thought she was really pretty when I first surveyed the room. Probably the prettiest girl in the class, I'd say. Throughout the semester, I always wanted to talk to her, but I never did because I thought that she would think I was weird, or that she might be snobby, so I stayed shy and quiet and that was mostly it. The only thing I ever said to her in art happened when she and her friend were talking about Veggie Tales, so I thought I would put my bit in: "Veggie Tales is the shit." Really incredible, wasn't it? Otherwise, we pretty much were silent.
Then came next semester, the current semester. She was in my history class, but sat nowhere near me. She chose to sit with her friend. Pfft.
She was also in my tech class, I noticed, transportation tech to be exact. She was there! I was surprised. She sat behind me, with the other girl in the class. I was talking to Chris, my good and noble comrade, and I pointed her out, and he said yeah, she's awesome (Callie says why the heck would Chris say that, I barely know him). She plays bass. I thought to myself, amazing. I looked back at her, and i imagined her playing bass, and it actually fit. That's when I was interested. I had to talk to her. Now that I knew her name was Callie, I had to get the attendance form from the teacher to figure out her last name so i could add her on facebook and carry out my master plan to talk to her. I would write on her Wall. I almost lost my chance at at the attendance scheme, but I got it in the end. I left the class, opened the attendance, and found that her name was Callie McIntosh, and thought Yes! I got her name. So i added her on facebook. I left her a pretty long message, talking about things like bass guitar.
And then we started talking more and more and more, and I got her msn. We started talking on msn, she was a VERY GOOD TYPER (Callie laughs). Eventually I unintentionally flirted with her, as it is uncontrollable, i asked for her number, because she thought we could hang out, which I thought was abrupt, but it was all good. After I got her number, and the phone all was rudely interrupted by my brother impressing numbers for hours and hours and hours and I had to get off the phone. failed number. So then I called her again, and now I'm talking to her on the phone as she types this. She just typed this sentence.
And thus, I, Callie, have a new friend, Lukas, and thats how it goes.
I suppose.
He asks that I narrate this blog from his perspective, as he's on the phone with me right now, so I will do that, as he dictates to me: our history, short as it may be.
It all started in art class, the first class I remember having with her. I thought she was really pretty when I first surveyed the room. Probably the prettiest girl in the class, I'd say. Throughout the semester, I always wanted to talk to her, but I never did because I thought that she would think I was weird, or that she might be snobby, so I stayed shy and quiet and that was mostly it. The only thing I ever said to her in art happened when she and her friend were talking about Veggie Tales, so I thought I would put my bit in: "Veggie Tales is the shit." Really incredible, wasn't it? Otherwise, we pretty much were silent.
Then came next semester, the current semester. She was in my history class, but sat nowhere near me. She chose to sit with her friend. Pfft.
She was also in my tech class, I noticed, transportation tech to be exact. She was there! I was surprised. She sat behind me, with the other girl in the class. I was talking to Chris, my good and noble comrade, and I pointed her out, and he said yeah, she's awesome (Callie says why the heck would Chris say that, I barely know him). She plays bass. I thought to myself, amazing. I looked back at her, and i imagined her playing bass, and it actually fit. That's when I was interested. I had to talk to her. Now that I knew her name was Callie, I had to get the attendance form from the teacher to figure out her last name so i could add her on facebook and carry out my master plan to talk to her. I would write on her Wall. I almost lost my chance at at the attendance scheme, but I got it in the end. I left the class, opened the attendance, and found that her name was Callie McIntosh, and thought Yes! I got her name. So i added her on facebook. I left her a pretty long message, talking about things like bass guitar.
And then we started talking more and more and more, and I got her msn. We started talking on msn, she was a VERY GOOD TYPER (Callie laughs). Eventually I unintentionally flirted with her, as it is uncontrollable, i asked for her number, because she thought we could hang out, which I thought was abrupt, but it was all good. After I got her number, and the phone all was rudely interrupted by my brother impressing numbers for hours and hours and hours and I had to get off the phone. failed number. So then I called her again, and now I'm talking to her on the phone as she types this. She just typed this sentence.
And thus, I, Callie, have a new friend, Lukas, and thats how it goes.
I suppose.
Diction
Neil Young Down by the River
Be on my side,
I'll be on your side,
baby
There is no reason
for you to hide
It's so hard for me
staying here all alone
When you could be
taking me for a ride.
Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.
You take my hand,
I'll take your hand
Together we may get away
This much madness
is too much sorrow
It's impossible
to make it today.
Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.
Be on my side,
I'll be on your side,
baby
There is no reason
for you to hide
It's so hard for me
staying here all alone
When you could be
taking me for a ride.
Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.
09 February 2009
I Am Beautiful
Why do people feel this aggravating compulsion to tell people they're beautiful in facebook pictures just so that they can be called beautiful in return? It's ridiculous! Have people's levels of self-esteem really plunged that low? Are girls really that desperate? We all know how we look, we all know how we really feel about ourselves. Why don't you go declare it to the planet that you think you're fat and ugly, and are seeking out vain compliments in hopes to change this negative image of yourself, when all it does is make you hate yourself more?
If you want to be called beautiful, BE beautiful. Do beautiful things. Take care of people. Take care of animals. Help the environment. Volunteer. Love people. And maybe, just maybe, once you start doing things for other people and the rest of the world instead of your ugly fat self, you'll no longer need to be called beautiful by other people, because maybe you'll know that it doesn't matter whether other people think you're beautiful, it matters whether you think it. You won't need the recognition of vain people with vain words because you'll know of their vanity and that what you do and who you are is not. You'll know that true beauty doesn't lie in a photo-shopped digital picture, it lies within your being. You'll know that your self-esteem isn't built on the world's expectations, it's built on yours. And you'll know that sitting around moping about your miserable, hard-done by life is getting you nowhere but down, and that it is in helping others that we truly help ourselves.
Stop wishing everyone thought you were beautiful, and start being beautiful.
For yourself.
If you want to be called beautiful, BE beautiful. Do beautiful things. Take care of people. Take care of animals. Help the environment. Volunteer. Love people. And maybe, just maybe, once you start doing things for other people and the rest of the world instead of your ugly fat self, you'll no longer need to be called beautiful by other people, because maybe you'll know that it doesn't matter whether other people think you're beautiful, it matters whether you think it. You won't need the recognition of vain people with vain words because you'll know of their vanity and that what you do and who you are is not. You'll know that true beauty doesn't lie in a photo-shopped digital picture, it lies within your being. You'll know that your self-esteem isn't built on the world's expectations, it's built on yours. And you'll know that sitting around moping about your miserable, hard-done by life is getting you nowhere but down, and that it is in helping others that we truly help ourselves.
Stop wishing everyone thought you were beautiful, and start being beautiful.
For yourself.
07 February 2009
Man ALIVE
Know what's an awful feeling? When you're trying to think of asong and a bunch of songs are just blending together in you head and you can't think of the song you want because every time you get to the place when you should be reaching a conclusion, another song slides into your thoughts and there you are, thinking a different song, and eventually you stop and think, oh, what was that song again? And it all just happens over and over and over again and nothing goes any where and you feel blah because it's Saturday and Saturdays are always blah and everything is sucky and your feet are wet and your hair is bad and your mind is full and your being is empty and your sentences don't finish and your songs don't end!
Plus this stupid lamp is still here?!?! What is going ON?!?! I want to pick up it's stupid green glass thing and smash it on the ground and let someone else clean it up. Plus Stephanie is back, trying once again to guilt me into a friendship that is obviously not happening! GO AWAY! GET A LIFE!
How the heck does that song GO!
Why does the universe hate me so?
05 February 2009
I Return
I have felt so uninspired to blog lately it's disappointing, both to me and to Ginny. Sorry, ghosts.
Ack. February was supposed to be my fresh start, one in which I would blog daily. Unfortunately, I missed the first, and it was downhill from there.
So last night, as I lay to the very farthest side of my bed, I thought of the scorpions coming out again, and then I started to think about how I haven't really been blogging mostly because I can't think of anything to blog about, as my thoughts have actually been in the present lately, and not so much elsewhere, as they usually are when I have blogging inspirations. Then I was thinking about how my scorpion blog was such a good one, and how i don't seem to have good ones any more, and I felt inept and sad. I had inept and sad dreams.
Well, maybe not, but I had dreams nonetheless.
Anyway, so I took the dumb old bus today, and as I waited on the cold, cold street with the -32 wind on my ears, I hummed a tune in my head, and eventually I began to worry that I had missed the bus already. What if it had come early? What if I was there at the wrong time? What if it was never going to come? Then I realised that I'm a very worrisome bus taker. Like, I was checking the time every two seconds and getting frantic and looking all around. I even ran to the bus stop just in case it came extra early, and I ended up waiting five extra minutes. Every sound I hear d was the bus coming around the corner, every car that drove by, even if from the wrong direction, was the bus speeding towards my stop, every minute was one spent freaking out about how I had more than likely missed the bus.
I began to wonder how long I should wait before I had to face the facts and walk and be late, or run and be on time but be out of breath and probably sweating, and I kept on checking the time, and I was thinking oh no, oh no, the bus will never get here. I even stopped blinking for a while because I was staring so hard at where the bus should be coming. It was awful. I was stressing out.
It was really unnecessary, though, because the bus came, just as it always does, and I felt immense relief as I saw the stupid monster rumbling down the street. I clutched my loonie and breathed a breath that took with it the weight of my ridiculous frightened situation. I really shouldn't bring myself so much grief over something so dumb, but I do, and that is how I return to blogging.
I can't decide whether blinking or staring is stranger.
Ack. February was supposed to be my fresh start, one in which I would blog daily. Unfortunately, I missed the first, and it was downhill from there.
So last night, as I lay to the very farthest side of my bed, I thought of the scorpions coming out again, and then I started to think about how I haven't really been blogging mostly because I can't think of anything to blog about, as my thoughts have actually been in the present lately, and not so much elsewhere, as they usually are when I have blogging inspirations. Then I was thinking about how my scorpion blog was such a good one, and how i don't seem to have good ones any more, and I felt inept and sad. I had inept and sad dreams.
Well, maybe not, but I had dreams nonetheless.
Anyway, so I took the dumb old bus today, and as I waited on the cold, cold street with the -32 wind on my ears, I hummed a tune in my head, and eventually I began to worry that I had missed the bus already. What if it had come early? What if I was there at the wrong time? What if it was never going to come? Then I realised that I'm a very worrisome bus taker. Like, I was checking the time every two seconds and getting frantic and looking all around. I even ran to the bus stop just in case it came extra early, and I ended up waiting five extra minutes. Every sound I hear d was the bus coming around the corner, every car that drove by, even if from the wrong direction, was the bus speeding towards my stop, every minute was one spent freaking out about how I had more than likely missed the bus.
I began to wonder how long I should wait before I had to face the facts and walk and be late, or run and be on time but be out of breath and probably sweating, and I kept on checking the time, and I was thinking oh no, oh no, the bus will never get here. I even stopped blinking for a while because I was staring so hard at where the bus should be coming. It was awful. I was stressing out.
It was really unnecessary, though, because the bus came, just as it always does, and I felt immense relief as I saw the stupid monster rumbling down the street. I clutched my loonie and breathed a breath that took with it the weight of my ridiculous frightened situation. I really shouldn't bring myself so much grief over something so dumb, but I do, and that is how I return to blogging.
I can't decide whether blinking or staring is stranger.
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