Siskel and Ebert

What inspires me today...
Holiday Cinema

Surprisingly, I have been behind lately in my holiday movie watching.  This is unfortunate, because I have become intrigued by many of the names I see on the marquees as I drive by on the way to stare once again at the Boarders gift section in hopes of some last minute gift inspiration.  I have not, in fact, watched previews or read reviews for anything in theaters recently, but I think I can guess the plot and rate them all pretty accurately due to my experience in movie watching and general judgmental attitudes.

So here it is, Katie's Judging-A-Movie-By-The-Cover:

Black Swan
A coming-of-age story about a young bird who thinks she is ugly growing up.  Finally, she befriends and old badger who helps her to realize that she is in actuality a swan who has been living among ducklings.  She goes off in search of her flock, only to realize that she is still ugly since swans are supposed to be white.
Grade: B+

True Grit 
Rick Sloane's camp horror twist on an old classic.  Alternative title -- Fried Green Tomatoes II: Ruth's Revenge
 Grade: A

 Country Strong
Micheal Moore has had a change of heart recently, making a series of mini docu-dramas highlighting the different sects of the United States military. He really delves into the collective soul of patriots everywhere to find the true meaning of the saying, "these colors don't run."
Grade: D-
TRON: Legacy 
A Daft Punk soundtrack that sounds straight out of 1982, 3-D groundbreaking special effects, nostalgic throwbacks to 80's geek-dom, and thrilling sequences that still fall short of reconciling the contrived plot and hopeless dialogue. (You caught me. I saw this one last night.)
Grade: C

Well, there you have it.  Obviously there's no Avitar in our near future, but I think there may be some gems.  I will update this once I have seen all of these movies for the sake of proper journalism, but then again, I probably won't.

Sears

What inspires me today...
  Pneumatic Melodies.

Yes, it is true.  After an entire semester, I have created the perfect playlist to pulse through your ear buds under correct ear protective coverings.  That's right, the Power Tools Playlist is complete.

You are thinking, "Wow, bold statement. What gives you the authority/audacity to claim such an unthinkable feat?" or "I could do better."
And to these skeptics I say, you're probably right, but I'd like to see you prove it.

Here it is, the Power Tools Playlist:
  1.  Bachelorette - Bjork
  2.  Man of Constant Sorrow - Bob Dylan (cover)
  3. Dress Sexy at my Funeral - Smog
  4. Sinaloan Milk Snake Song - Mountain Goats
  5. Are You Swimming in Her Pools? - Swan Lake
Trust me,  this perfect blend of beautiful yet harsh-to-the-ear croons make turning a hunk of alabaster into a buffalo head to mount on your living room wall a breeze.  No one will accuse any of these artists of being necessarily "good" singers, but that is just the edge that will keep you going through the crucial sawing and grinding process.

Advice:
Don't listen to new Iron and Wine. You will cut your hand it's so awesome.
Don't listen to the Ting Tings either. They're terrible.

you belong with me - m4w - 28

What inspires me today...
At first sight.

A bizarre habit of mine is to absentmindedly click through a few of my tabbed items on my toolbar.  Here I find many treasures, such as rotten tomatoes, my bank account, my email, an assortment of blogs, news stations, a few music sites, ebay, and of course... Craigslist.

It's no secret that I love Craigslist.  I've even posted before about Craigslist.  It's a strange and fascinating obsession.  

For a while I was searching for a job.  I found a job, thanks Craigslist.  Then I needed a bike.  Once I found that, the natural progression was to look for a stalker.  Yes, I thought the "Casual Encounters" section was funny for a time, but then things got pretty real when I discovered "Missed Connections" just a few links down.

I'm just waiting for the day when I click on "Girl at Ralphs" and it's not talking about the blond in soccer warm-ups ahead of you in line.  One day it will be the brunette who has oatmeal, black beans, and that weird bargain fruit that is about to go bad in her basket.  One day...

Until then, I will just enjoy the sweet sentiments of these mini poetic declarations of missed true love.

Example: "Ahhh, love is an anthropologist's rubiks cube." 

Or this gem: "You know who you are. You probably know who I am. You know where you were, and you know you saw me at those same places."

I emailed that one back.  Sounds like we have a lot in common.

Tofurkey

What inspires me today...
brown paper packages tied up with string


In light of the just passed holiday on November the 25th, I would like to wish everyone the happiest of Ben Stein's birthday.

Things I am thankful for:

Not having strep throat anymore
Self-explanatory.  Thanks Penicillin.

Four times a day, every day.


Family
The thing about holidays is, they're really family time.  Even if your community is like family in many ways, they all end up going to be with their own respective families.  They are also not your family.  Though this recent Thanksgiving weekend, by normal weekend standards, stands as a pretty good one, it made for a tad depressing Thanksgiving.

Kindles
My eldest sister bought me a Kindle for my birthday.  At first I thought, "what?" next I pondered, "why?" then finally realized, "yes."  Upon discussing the complex thought process behind purchasing a kindle, it made sense because if I were to be any electronic item, it would be a Kindle.  This decision was reached because a Kindle is not touch-screen and full of "Apps" like an iPhone or iPad, it's a little off and awkward as far as electronics go, and all you can do with it is read books.
Perfect.
And though I haven't gotten past the set-up screen, the fact that I've charged it already is a big step.

just like paper!


Friends
Though stressful returning to school after a brief period of semi-isolation, time apart makes me realize that I really do like people.


Kid Cudi
I like the song "Pursuit of Happiness" and all that it has brought into my life.

Well... He makes nice music at least.


Strangers
It's interesting how honest you can be with someone you're likely never to see again.  With the exception of airplanes, I never seem to sit next to the interesting bio-engineer who has figured out the secret behind cryogenics.  Rather, it's always the disgruntled business man or criminally insane guy rocking back and forth while singing who I get stuck by.

Iron & Wine
His new EP "Walking Far From Home" has thus far changed my life and the way I listen to music.




What are you thankful for?

Makes you weak all in your knees.

What inspires me today...
The sick bed.

Having taken ill for the past two weeks, I've had no choice but to come to a natural and well-founded conclusion: sickness was invented by the Vicks corporation.

To take a quick stock in what I have consumed in the past 14 days:

1 bottle of DayQuil
1 bottle of NyQuil
1 bottle of Robitussin
2 NyQuil tablets
1 bottle of Tylenol Cold syrup
4 Sudafed tablets
9 cups of throat coat tea
3 cups of cold care tea
1 cup of nasty homemade ginger concoction
2 Thereflu packets
1 Gingerbread tea latte

1 bag of echinacea cough drops

Staying home from work to catch up on every show I've ever watched an episode of: priceless.

While most illnesses end with going to the doctor, and enjoying a slow progression upwards, mine saw a doctor mid-way, then began a quick spiral down.  I'm going back to that sadist tomorrow to give him a piece of my mind through hand gestures and a frown.

Things I never really thought about, but now realized I have been taking for granted: 
1. The ability to swallow.
2. The ability to speak.

Things that I could have, according to WebMD: 
1. A common cold
2. Scarlet Fever
3. Thyroid cancer
4. Mumps

So, dear ones, before tucking yourself into bed tonight, remember these profound words of advice: Ignorance is bliss when trying to look out for your mental health and avoid having a panic attack from the possibility of influenza.

Worry, worry, super-scurry...

What inspires me today...
New Heights.

I hate surprises.

I usually find that the joy and rush of adrenaline most feel coursing through their veins when faced with a good 'ol surprise is replaced with a bone-chilling dread.  A sort of hybrid of anxiety and terror. 

Surprise parties are the worst.
Generally I become very quiet.  Happy, but fully unable to interact.  Sometimes I cry.

Number 8 on my bucket list was satisfied Saturday morning by a complete and utter surprise at 2:30 in the morning.   After a four hour drive and instant confusion when faced with a white van with the tinted windows bearing worn and peeling lettering reading, "Magical Adventures," a giant wicker basket in tow, I still had no idea what was going on.  The tarps were laid out, and finally giant colorful bundles were unrolled...

Mixing a fear of heights with a hatred for surprises made for a shockingly delightful birthday.

Mike, the pilot, and I wore matching denim shirts.  I think we hit it off pretty well.  He was in his late fifties, a retired air force pilot who has been flying balloons for over 20 years.  Clearly he wanted a photo of he and I on his iPhone after the champagne toast prior to the completion of our aviation feat.  Clearly I obliged.

Excuse me, I misspoke earlier.  You cannot "fly" a hot air balloon.  You simply float, at the mercy of the wind.  Interestingly, this seemingly terrifying concept made for a very calm and peaceful experience.  There wind simply carried us.  No turbulence in fight, none of the worry or fear you may find in a plane (where you supposedly have full control).  Landing spots aren't planned ahead of time, just found.   Maybe life is flight, and maybe the ride would be more enjoyable if we all just learned to float.

Or maybe we should all wear more denim and drink more champagne.

Either way, both options would drastically improve the state of the world.

(I have truly amazing friends.)

Tertiary Tributary

What inspires me today...
Coincidence vs Chaos 

A few things of note from the past week: 
  1. They (scientists) recently found 50-million-year-old bugs encased in amber in the Indian rainforest. 
  2. Friday October 22nd was the actor Jeff Goldblum's birthday.  This year he turned a whopping 58 years of age. 
These two seemingly unrelated facts may seem uninteresting and useless... to the untrained eye.

Let me teach you a lesson, dear readers, in critical thinking about things that really don't matter or make much sense.

Not only were they (scientists) able to extract perfectly preserved 50-million-year-old bugs using toluene and chloroform due to the unique soft nature of the Indian amber, dating the rainforest back before the Miocene as originally speculated, placing it as over 60-million-years-old, and Jeff Goldblum has now grown one year closer to the obscurity we have all been anticipating since his small-screen debut on Law and Order: Criminal Intent...

BUT 
these two strands of information are actually more closely circulating then we could ever imagine.

I saw these at first as completely coincidental, but looking closely at the teachings of chaos theory, nothing is random.  It is all deterministic, yet completely unpredictable.

True fans may have predicted by now the juncture where chaos theory has brought Jeff Goldblum to insects encased in amber....

 boom...boom...

...a 1990 novel written by Michael Chriton adopted in 1993 into the Steven Spielberg motion picture "Jurassic Park." 

We all know what this means.

A wealthy billionaire and dinosaur enthusiast will clone the dinosaur DNA found within a mosquito from the amberand create an island theme park on an island near Cosa Rica, with the main attraction being, you guessed it, dinosaurs (all female, of course) where a couple anthropologists, their bratty kids, and a researcher will get stuck while the gates are opened as a bumbling research tech tries to steal embryos for [insert generic rival corporation name] and make a couple bucks. 
They will survive, barely, just in time to make a sequel and eventually a trilogy. 

Let's hope this doesn't happen again (and again, and again, and again).
 
I'm not saying that I'm not curious to see what it would be like to ride around on a triceratops, obviously that is an ideal situation.  I'm just stating that although it would seem to be a hilarious and thoughtful gesture to create dinosaurs for Jeff's birthday, it would be ill-conceived and a little insensitive. We all (no one) saw Jurassic Park III.  Goldblum doesn't make an appearance. 

A world with dinosaurs but without Jeff Goldblum is a world I want no part it.

But, as the ever insightful Dr. Ian Malcolm says, "I'm simply saying that life, uh... finds a way."

Land of Milk and...

What inspires me today...
Bee attitudes. 

Remember a few years back when you couldn't turn on the news without hearing about the mysterious disappearance of the honey bee, but didn't hear another word about it in the media because someone was assassinated/a war started/some oil spilled in Mexico?

I will play the part of news provider by filling all of you out there, chomping at the bit, in to know what happened in the honey bee saga.

The name of the problem:
Colony Collapse Disorder.

There are many theories and factors thought to cause CCD, but clearly my favorite (quickly proven false) theory would have to be: 

Cell phone radiation interfering with their homing techniques.


"Why should I care about half the honey bee population dying suddenly and in mass quantities?"  
You may, but probably won't, ask.
How does $15 million in crop value sound? 
You have no idea what that means or why that is the case.
It's not good.  And pollination.

The factors thought by most to be causing this phenomenon: a spreading harmful pathogen and pesticides.  These cause an immune-deficiency disorder.

Bee AIDS is real.

Think about that the next time you're sucking honey straight from the bear.

Plots thickening.

What inspires me today...
Toothpaste.

Why I thought it was a good/socially acceptable/within all the societal norms I've been socialized into/normal situation to answer the door this morning in my pj's mid-brushing of my teeth, I will never know.

I was too excited to have a visitor, there was no time to spit and set my toothbrush on the side of the sink.

The Fedex man seemed unfazed.  Time to step up my game.

(Note: my pj's this particular morning consisted of over-sized drawstring red shorts and an old cut up shirt.  Hair in a VERY high bun.  I was looking about 40%.)

Magnets, how do they work?

What inspires me today...
Miracles.

Juggalos.
Jugalettes.

These are the names given to and worn proudly by fans/followers/henchmen/apostles of the Michigan-based hip hop group Insane Clown Posse (ICP for short).

Helpful and Necessary Visual Aid

Why do they all dress like gothic clowns?  Why would anyone listen to something dubbed as "horrorcore"? How would one go about getting involved in Juggalo Championship Wrestling?  What brand of face paint is best for Juggalo/ette impersonation?  Is that what love looks like?

These are all questions.

Maybe you have been faced with Jugalo culture recently while reading the Twitter posts of myspace icon and reality television celebrity, Tila Tequila.  If not, there is hope for humanity.

So, what is the first thought when trying to launch you and your friends' new indie-pop band via youtube?  

Indie-pop band name: Taken by Trees (could've guess that one.)

Answer: Acoustic cover of the ICP song Miracles.  Clearly.


My favorite gems from this song: 
"We don't have to be high to look in the sky"
"The Milky Way and f***ing shooting stars"
"Look at the mountains, trees, the seven seas and everything chilling underwater, please"
"There's enough miracles here to blow your brains"
"F***ing magnets, how do they work?"
"I fed a fish to a pelican at Frisco bay, it tried to eat my cell phone, he ran away"

Pure poetry.

Obviously I prefer the original, but that's just because Faygo tastes so much sweeter in baggy pants and face paint.

The slow luxury of reeling one another in.

What inspires me later in the night...
Poems (read every word.)

In the story my aunt tells, this is how they met.
It's September, the war just over,
the air crisp as the creases in my father's khaki pants,
bright as his Bronze Star,
pungent as the marigold my mother tucks behind one ear,
the night they both sign up
for dance lessons "the Arthur Murray way"
at the Statler Hotel in downtown Philly.

He's there to meet girls,
of that I am certain,
and she's there for romance,
though I don't think that's what she would say,
both of them looking for something as intangible as the cigarette smoke
that rises in old, deckle-edged photos—
everyone tough, glamorous, vampy.

Perhaps there are dance cards?
Or maybe partners are assigned?
The truth is, no one really knows
about the moment when their glance
catches and snags across the room,
a fishline pulling taut as they place their feet
on Murray's famous "magic footsteps,"
and start the slow luxury of reeling one another in.
Music spills from a scratchy Victrola
as she places her hand on his shoulder,
feels the slight pressure of his palm against her back,
and they begin to move together,
her hesitant steps following
his over-enthusiastic swings,
until they are both lost in "The More I See You"
or "I Don't Want to Walk Without You Baby,"
the future stretching out before them
like a polished oak dance floor.

I don't know if they went back for more lessons,
or how they learned to dip and twirl and slide together,
though I once saw my father spin my mother completely around—
her skirt flaring out around her like the bell of a silk lamp shade—
just months before she died.
It's their story
after all,
the one with a secret hidden deep inside it
like all love stories—
bigger than we are or will ever be—
music from a Big Band coming up in the background,
playing "You'd Be So Nice to Come Home To,"
while our parents swoop and glide
in the spotlight, keeping back
just enough of the story to make us wonder.

[My Parents' Dance Lessons 1945 - Alison Townsend]



I'm sorry I was late.
I was pulled over by a cop
for driving blindfolded
with a raspberry-scented candle
flickering in my mouth.
I'm sorry I was late.
I was on my way
when I felt a plot
thickening in my arm.
I have a fear of heights.
Luckily the Earth
is on the second floor
of the universe.
I am not the egg man.
I am the owl
who just witnessed
another tree fall over
in the forest of your life.
I am your father
shaking his head
at the thought of you.
I am his words dissolving
in your mind like footprints
in a rainstorm.
I am a long-legged martini.
I am feeding olives
to the bull inside you.
I am decorating
your labyrinth,
tacking up snapshots
of all the people
who've gotten lost
in your corridors.

[Compulsively Allergic to the Truth - Jeffrey McDaniel]

On button.

What inspires me today...
Power.

It's true.  I haven't blogged in quite a while.  I've probably lost both of my readers.  Oh well, you two probably had better things to do anyway.

The truth is, school leaves little time for meandering thoughts and rants about nothingness.  Instead, all of my otherwise misdirected energy has to be molded and shaped for the future of this great country/world.  I have to actually support my arguments "logically" and "be reasonable."  It's throwing off my entire vibe.

So, to not completely abandon the internet, which has entertained me so well these past few years, I offer this fleeting thought from stone sculpture (ironically the one class that allows for little to no thought):

I love power tools.

We had our test on safety gear, grinders, and pneumatic hammers, picked out our stones at the yard where middle-aged people gather in outside makeshift stalls to "create," and finally, it was time to carve.

At first I was intimidated by their awesome ability, speed, and soul-splitting noises, but now that I have fully realized and harnessed that sheer power, I can't stop thinking about them.  In comparison, everything else leaves something to be desired.  And that something is a motor and need for oil.

Sleuthing.

What inspires me today:
Lactose.
At the risk of sounding hip, I buy almond or rice milk.  To clarify, I am not a cool vegan, my intestines are just intolerant towards poor old lactose.  
When my family buys milk at home, we go big.  Gallon jugs for us.
I get non-fat because I don't like chewing my drinks.

With all that seemly useless knowledge about personal preferences on milk-like beverages now in your brain, imagine my surprise when my housemate brought home an actual.milk.carton.  On it there was a logo, farm name, nutrition facts, a little game to play, and even a barcode.

My question/source of confusion and worry: What happened to the missing children side of the box?

 Drop your cereal, we've got crime to solve! 

I feel like I remember "winding up on the side of a milk carton" to be a legitimate fear in my not-so-distant past, so I'm wondering how long ago they decided this wasn't an effective way of getting that sort of news out.  The world would like to know.

Wiki wiki

What inspires me today...
Ghosts

I love ghost stories.  I am not believing them fully as fact just yet, but come on, some of them are pretty convincing.  White powder footprints, stacks of pennies, music not able to be played in certain rooms, hand prints appearing on mirrors, blood spots on fireplaces that appear time and time again after being cleaned...  And those are just from one person who heard it from their friend whose sister actually experienced it!

Improbable: Yes.
Impossible: I'm not a scientist.
Awesome: Without a doubt.

Regardless, what made me start this ramble is that someone in Proidencia, Chile read my blog yesterday.  

"¡Tenemos un zoológico!"

Now, if you are currently on Wikipedia right now (as you should be) search the city of Providencia, Chile and scroll to the bottom of the page (which isn't far, there isn't much going on in that city, apparently).  Here you will see the list of notable residents.  

Pablo Neruda is one of these residents of note. 

Why this is important/matters/not as random as you think: early on in my extensive and highly respected/admired blogging career (a few months back) I posted a Neruda poem.  In response, I wrote a small poem of my own.  It was a short and sweet sentiment, but with dire consequences.  
The facts are clear:  Pablo Neruda's ghost is haunting my blog.


Other fun facts about Providencia, Chile:
  • Large upper-middle-class population
  • Has a Teleférico, or an aerial gondola
  • Has an embassy of Italy, France, Russia, China, and Uruguay 
  • There is a 22m statue of the Virgin Mary
Wikipedia has WAY more information on ghosts than Providencia, Chile.  Since Wikipedia is the authority on everything, and Providencia has been verified as "existing," then I have no reason to doubt the existence of ghosts.  The logic is flawless and the evidence is overwhelming.

Can I keep you?

Dear liza, a hole.

What inspires me today...
Buckets.

I will admit, this post is not of original inspiration.  One of my dear friends created a bucket list today, and suggested that I should do the same.  Since I now have a reader who is mildly interested in what I would place on a "bucket list," and since I love a good list just as much as the next gal... here it is.

50 things I would like to accomplish before I kick the bucket (in no particular order): 
  1. Watch every movie on this list
  2. Read every book on these lists
  3. Visit/live in SE Asia
  4. Hike the Pacific Crest Trail
  5. Participate in La Tomatina
  6. See at least 30 of America's largest roadside attractions
  7. Take in a foster child
  8. Ride in a hot air balloon
  9. Attend the hot air balloon races in Albuquerque 
  10. Learn a new language proficiently 
  11. Tell all the influential teachers in my past how much I appreciate them
  12. Learn a musical instrument 
  13. Win at bingo
  14. Ask for a raise
  15. Learn to sail
  16. Build a piece of furniture
  17. Take the Trans-Siberian Railway from Moscow to Vladivostok
  18. Become an expert in something unexpected
  19. Surf
  20. Hike through the Zion Narrows in Utah
  21. Do the Master Cleanse
  22. Make my own clothes
  23. Hike the Inca Trail in Peru
  24. Go Spelunking
  25. Ride in a helicopter 
  26. Live alone
  27. Attend the inauguration of a US President 
  28. Visit the Sistine Chapel
  29. Milk a cow
  30. Be debt free
  31. Have something published
  32. Start a collection
  33. Learn the constellations
  34. Read the Bible cover to cover
  35. Learn how to cook
  36. Visit the wonders of the world
  37. Grow my own fruit and vegetables
  38. Visit the top ten US lighthouses
  39. Learn to flyfish 
  40. Go snowboarding
  41. Hike the Tongariro Circuit in New Zealand
  42. Tour Ann Frank's house
  43. Learn how to cut hair professionally
  44. Give a large amount of money anonymously to a charity or non-profit
  45. Build an appreciation for jazz
  46. Cross a country by bicycle
  47. Talk to Sam Beam
  48. Safari 
  49. See all the big world monuments (eifle tower, big ben, pyramids, dome of the rock...)
  50. Eat at Falafel's Drive-In in San Jose
There are so many more things I could put on there, but I will spare you and cut it off at 50.
And now, a rant.  

Why do they call it "kicking the bucket" anyway?  Where is the mystical bucket, and which religion requires that it be kicked in order to enter the great beyond?  If there is to be any cosmic item to be kicked it should be a can, in my humble opinion. 

Further research on the subject proved very informative.

Don't know much about history.

What inspires me today...
Family Matters.

A nice long family discussion this morning on topics such as assisted suicide, the declining housing market, urban sprawl, and the environmental/social effect of consumerism, all over a few slices of french toast and orange juice, got me thinking; why did the idea of City States self-governed by guilds never catch-on globally?

All I'm saying is, if Portland, OR succeeded and became a fully self-ruled and operating entity, I wouldn't hate it.

Viva la Revolución!

Think about it.  A country of no sales tax where no one pumps their own gas.  
If that isn't the modern equivalent of milk and honey, I don't know what is.

Dear Earth, it's me, Katie.

What inspires me today...
BBC News

So my homepage is BBC news.  Every day I faithfully skim the headlines before updating my Twitter account, reading a few of the articles in more depth if they apply directly to me or my interests.  Today I chose a different route, and began clicking on all the articles at random.  

I realized, I have many things to say to these countries.  I have compiled some useful advice to the world based on what BBC decided to put on the homepage today.

BBC Abridged:
Muscovites: You should keep your windows closed and wear gauze masks to avoid inhaling ash particles.
Croatians: Are you feeling seasonal depression?  Head to Hvar Town. It's the sunniest place in your country.
Italians: Need a face transplant?  Barcelona.  They'll give you your 15 minutes too.   
USA: You should really consider censorship.  
All of Europe: The World Cup is over. Also, look out.  It was only a matter of time before Scientology went straight to the source.
Ocean: It's okay, the storm is over and the bad bad man is going away.
Khmer Rouge in Cambodia: You can run, but you can't hide.
France:  You should all commit tax fraud.  Because you're worth it.

That's about it.  I hope you are all feeling a bit more wealthy (with knowledge, not in the Liliane Bettencourt sense).

Chirp chirp

What inspires me today...
Twits.

Here is something I don't understand (and yes, surprisingly, there are still things I don't understand):
Twitter. 

I don't get it.

Yes, it has been explained to me on more than one occasion.  I understand what "trending" is.  I get how/why you'd @ something.  It took me a while, but I now call it "tweeting" instead of "Twitting" or other less appropriate variations.  The re-tweeting is still mostly a gray area, but I understand the general concept.  But I still don't GET it.

I feel like I have things to say on a semi-regular basis.  I am, after all, an active member of my generation, raised on stubborn individualism and self-indulgence.  But somehow, every time I sign on to my Twitty I become speechless.  Every ounce of wit disappears, and everything I did that day seems pointless to share with all 16 of my anxiously waiting followers. 

So far, I have posted 4 times in the year I've had a Twit account.

I don't know why I freeze every time the little blue bird pops up on my screen, but the fact of the matter is, I probably am just not cut out to maintain a widely read/adored/praised/fascinating blog as well as an equally awesome and perfect and wonderful twitter account.  It's not humanly possible.

For that kind of super-human ability, I would need one of these babies:

I don't have 4 or any G.

Here's another problem: On the rare occasion I open my flutter account, I am never interested in what the people on there have to say.  I'm not trying to slam the 12 people that I follow, you're all great and funny/interesting in person, I'm just saying that unless it's Lil Wayne detailing every minute and minute detail of every day, I'm generally not going to be that interested.   Even SciFi channel Tweaks aren't enthralling.  I guess I also haven't checked recently(ever) to see if Lil Wayne maintains a Twitter account. 

So maybe I owe it another chance.

Close the laundry door

What inspires me today...
Piles.

Do you ever get to the end of the week and realize, hey, I told myself last weekend that I was going to do my laundry.  And then proceed to remember the weekend before that where the same epiphany came upon you... And the weekend before that...?  I know I sure did.  Hence why my floor looked like this when I opened my closet after quite a few passing weekends of no laundry:

I don't think I own enough patterned items.

Laundry day.  The day I realized that it wasn't that I didn't have any clothes and needed to buy more... It's just that they're all stuffed into a little mesh hamper, brimming over the edge.  First time doing laundry in the new house...

Also, to add to the list of firsts on this squeaky clean day, I bleached a load of whites.  Did I know what I was doing? No.  Did I manage to get a strawberry stain out of the front of my white dress?  You better believe it.  

Postwar.
(Good thing I hadn't put my phone through the wash cycle like I originally thought I had... Or else no pictures for you, dearest blog reader.)

Moral of the story: don't wait many weeks to do your laundry.  

Better moral: DO wait many weeks to do your laundry.  It's like getting a whole new wardrobe when you reach the pants you haven't seen in a month and had mostly forgotten.

Best moral: bleach is bad for nature... But if forced to choose one nature-killing substance to use, and the rest disappear, I choose bleach.  Any day of the week.

Post script: This all occurred on Friday.  It is now Tuesday night and I still have a few little piles of clean laundry to put away.  Maybe I will just wear all the clothes in the piles until they're dirty... Saves me a step.

What's lookin' good cookin'?

What inspires me today...
Baking.
Already established facts: 
  • I am not what one would call a "chef."
  • In Spanish class, I do not list "cocinar" as one of my hobbies.
  • I have very simple tastes.
  • If it can't be blended or tossed with dressing/beans and rice, I have no use for it.
That being said, once in a blue moon I have a flash of inspiration/hunger and the domestic goddess comes hence from the depths of my soul where I keep her hidden, and whips up something magical in the kitchen.

The other night, there was one of those moons.

At Vons (a popular grocery store) right next to those golden bunches of bananas, there are little paper bags labeled: RIPE.  As I scanned back and forth between the two, trying to decide on the best purchase, I realized that on said bag there was a recipe for, you guessed it, banana bread.  (It may have also been the .25 per pound as opposed to .69 per pound...)

So, in the second installment of Katie Can Cook, I bake for you: 
Banana Bread

AND, since I am far too lazy to write out all the ingredients/process to make banana bread, one which you can find on any website/discount bag of RIPE bananas at Vons, I will just tell you that it is delicious.  

A helpful visual aid

I made two loaves, both of which disappeared by the next day, save one tiny piece.  What is it about the very last piece...  No one ever wants to be the one to finish the loaf.

It takes a village pt II.

What inspires me today...
Online Community.

I started my second summer school class this past week: an online Art History course.  Already I have learned a few things that I think would benefit all three of my faithful readers:
  1. People generally sound smarter when they have the time to articulate their thoughts in writing. (For the exception see #2)
  2. People should be very careful when wielding the power that is emoticons.  They can help the reader detect sarcasm in an otherwise harsh sounding comment, ease the pain of the suffering, and make any intelligent or slightly uninformed comment sound downright idiotic.
  3. If you are are not catching on as fast as some of the other students in your Spanish 101 class (coughguy who sits in front and already knows how to ask every question he has in Spanishcough) take an online class in something you know a decent amount about.  It will do wonders for your esteem. 
  4. Tests are 90% stress-free when taken in bed.
(Note: when discussing Italian 14th century architecture on a message board, saying:
"Thanks! Your post was nice :) That's very true I hadn't really thought about that the two morners in the foreground DON"T have halos and instead they have hoods on... kinda weird... Well, I guess they all have hoods, but it just looks kind of weird like they would turn around really fast and be something scary! Hahaha!Yeah, i dont know y they are there...  -Tiffany :)"
should not count for discussion credit in an academic upper division art history course.)


Ah, the simple joys of Community College.  Now if only I could remember all the months in Spanish...

It takes a village.

What inspires me today...
Community College.

Yes, summer is here. But while everyone else is sleeping in, frolicking in the waves, peeing in pools, I am waking up at 6:30 four days a week to attend my community college elementary Spanish class.  As I bike across town and up that hill, every morning without fail I think to myself, "Curse you, Liberal Arts' GE requirements."

Some of the (almost) comically stereotypical students in Spanish 101 at Community College:
  • The burnout girl in the back corner
  • The 38 year old woman with bleached hair who dresses younger than me and talks like she's imitating a character off of Dawson's Creek. (you're not fooling anyone, girl.)
  • The handful of high school juniors looking to get ahead (One of whom mistook me for someone in their same position.  When asked where I attended high school, I had some clarifying to do.  Not only am I in college, but I am a senior in college.)
  • The hick from Arkansas who moved to California to surf
  • Larry, the Cholo who doesn't speak Spanish
  • The kid who looks like a young(er) Justin Beiber. (If our class was a fourth installment in the High School Musical franchise, he would probably be the hearth-throb.  But since it most definitely is not, he's just annoying and small.)
Since I have taken 2 years of Spanish already, and am not a complete idiot, I can notice things like the eye-roll our teacher gives after the annoying talkative high school girl says "Yo donde California" after he just explained the hard-to-grasp concept of "Soy de..."  He then has to separate her from her friend during his explanation of verb charades, because she was causing a disturbance.  Poor Marcelo.

Did I mention this class was 3 hour long?  I have enough material for a novel.  But I've already spent too of my thought space on Spanish class this week, so I will spare you, for now.

If that's movin' up, then I'm...

What inspires me today...
Moving (again)

How I know that I am not a hipster: I absolutely and unashamedly love the music of Billy Joel.

As my time comes to an end at the ever entertaining and mysterious condo, I will pack my things into a small four-door, try and avoid buying anything that the lady who rented us the room is selling (she, also, is moving), and try to get my security deposit back in full despite a semi-broken sliding closet door.

As this time comes to an end, I have some lessons that I've learned, which are all fully insightful and useful, no matter your living situation.  With that, I give you....

Wisdom from the Condo: 
Reflections From Living With Strangers
  • It's great living with a 19 year-old drug dealer, he never left his room and just "jams" all day to Sublime and Marley (when not watching TV or zoning out in complete silence). 
  • If the person you're living with says you can eat "whatever you want," that is a loaded statement.  Take full advantage of condiments and cooking implements, but steer clear of leftovers.  That feels creepy. 
  • You may call the lady that rented you the room "mom," her son "brother/boyfriend," but don't call her boyfriend "dad."  This is mostly a spiteful gesture that shows him you still have some control. 
  • If there is a hot tub, use it.
  • If the 19 year-old drug dealer son sits at home literally all day doing nothing, but somehow can't find the time to wash a dish, this can play to your advantage.  If you do the dishes, mom feels bad you had to do them, if you leave them she feels bad because her son is a complete derelict.  Win-win for pull with the security deposit.
  • If your closet door breaks, hopefully the dish situation pans out in your favor.
  • If people ahead of time talk about a "condo crew" that lives in the same complex and all supposedly hang out by the pool, don't believe them.  They may exist, but you haven't seen any evidence of them thus far. 

Now I'm off, finally moving into a house full of friends.  I may take a roll of toilet paper on my way out.

Step Up 3D

This post has nothing to do with Step Up 3D.

What inspires me today...
Haircuts.

I cut a friend's hair today, as I sometimes do.  I laughed while he prattled stories of doing really cool things, but not actually being the type of "cool" normally assumed of those who do those things (such as being in a punk band, or playing jazz music).

I was paid in secrets and a nickname for the haircut; my new accepted currency.
I won't tell you the secrets, but my new nickname is: Genevieve-a-la Katie

I think I will start going by that the day I decide to talk about how cool I am despite doing nothing actually cool.

Random photos from my old photobucket account: 

Stingrays
Jackson Browne vs. Dinosaur

Altars.

What inspires me today...
Progress.

Milestones become strikingly clear when you realize that cynicism and critical tearing-apart is no longer your default lens to view the world, but rather one among many.

It's bizarre hearing someone rattle off almost verbatim the nice-sounding rants my heart used to feel so strongly about, and realizing that I am no longer yearning to join in.  I hate to admit that I finally know why others can sit back, smile, and hold firm that still and knowing look I used to discount as ignorance.

Council Crest, Portland, OR (Jay Lichtman)

These little markers in the hillside force me to look back and realize how far I have come, and that though there is an overwhelming expanse ahead, I'm at least going the right way.


"Everything changed the day he figured out there was exactly enough time for the important things in his life."
-Brian Andreas


Build an altar.  Remember progress.

siesta così bella

What inspires me today...
Multiculturality


We should all take siestas.


(Vincent Van Gogh "The Siesta" )
(Markus Åkesson"The Sleep")
(Henri Rousseau "The Sleeping Gypsy")

Why does nap time get admonished after the age of 7?  Lets take the immortal advice of the mid-90's great Aqua, and dance until siesta when the sun comes alive.

What's cookin' good lookin'?

What inspires me today...
Cooking.

If you know me, you may or may not be aware that I am possibly the worst cook.  While most people think that the food I create is too "basic" or "boring" or "not good," I thoroughly enjoy my simple tastes.  Cereal is a staple, soup is wonderful, and there are amazing things you can do with brown rice or a sandwich.

This is installment numero uno of   KATIE CAN COOK,   a beginner's guide to preparing food that most people won't enjoy unless you like cereal, soup, and weird vegetables.

My latest invention: Kale Salad

If you don't know much about Kale: 
  • It is a wild cabbage
  • Believed to have anti-cancerous properties
  • Curly leaf is the best
  • Vitamin's K and C
  • Carotenoids
  • Iron
  • Calcium

Mmm, calciferous!

So, normally, I prepare kale in this manner:
1. cut up some garlic
2. cut up some onion
3. cook that in some olive oil in a big ol' frying pan
4. add de-stemmed small-ish piece of kale
5. cover for about 8 minutes with another big ol' frying pan
6. de-cover and drench with balsamic vinegar
7. flip around with some tongs for a few more minutes, until bright green and either crispy or soft (whatever I'm feeling that night)

Then, I put that over some brown rice, add a thickly sliced tomato, and BAM! Dinner.

But this time, I revolutionized my meal.

I prepared the rice and kale in the same manner as before, but this time, I changed some things around.
I put the bed of brown rice, the hot kale, the usual tomato, nothing too out of the ordinary here... BUT THEN, I cut up and heated some small slices of savory-flavored tofu.  I went on... I added half an avocado, and lettuce.  I then tossed that all together with some balsamic vinegar and olive oil.
Yeah.  I went there.

Take my word for it, it was delicious.

"Delicious and nutritious!"
-Katie, 6/1/10

But if you foolishly refuse to take my word for it, take my roommate Ashley's word for it:

"Yum!"
-Ashley, 6/1/10

Let Katie make a believer out of YOU!

There and back again...

What inspires me today...
Travel blogs.

It seems as though everyone is traveling to great and exciting places, journeys all worthy of the many blogs out there devoted to them.  I was complaining to myself the other day about how I don't have a travel blog, but then realized this was no ones fault but my own.

Am I in my hometown right now? No.

Have I packed up all my belongings and moved them to an unfamiliar place for a month before moving into my new house? Yes.

So, naturally, I am going to show you the travel blog of my morning run up here on the wild and uncharted mesa.

 

Local Art: 
  
 

Strange wildlife:

Local Shaman and Witch Houses: 
 

"Kitch" is the local term for this: 


 


National Identity:
 

 


The locals:
  

People who don't look like their children: 
  

People who do look like their dogs:  
  

Spectacular views: 
 





Local commerce and trade:


 Metaphor:

The moon and stars just are brighter here:

With only a few short weeks left in this strange and wonderful place, I know that my life has changed, and will soon face the realities of reverse culture-shock.  Luckily, thanks to my camera phone and 2.1 megapixel camera, I was able to capture some of the memories.  I hope to one day return to this magical land, and visit my home-stay family.

Katie Fischer.

What inspires me today...
Prison rules.

I think if a Rook and a Bishop got in a fight, the Rook would win.






"Chess is a sea in which a mosquito can bathe and an elephant can drown."
-Indian Proverb

Love, love will tear us apart, again.

What inspires me today...
Codependency.

I always see couples come into my current place of employment who I think just started dating because they thought that they would take good pictures together.  It's confusing, because my first thought is that their mother dressed her twins alike because she thought it would be cute, but then they kiss...

Do they start this way?  Finding someone who looks just like them because shared interests and goals are a given after that important assessment?  Or is it over a period of time they slowly morph into compliments, only existing fully or understood really with their partner by their side?  But whose style then wins out, and which one fades into irrelevancy?  These are all questions.

I mean, are you coordinating in the morning?  Do you shop together? (Question two is a given, since I'm spotting these people primarily at a shop.)

Lamp or faces? Or crooning Spaniards?

But seriously.

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