Ganked from Facebook. All of the wankery with none of the tagging!

Literary Snobbery Questionnaire

1) What author do you own the most books by?
Here on my school bookshelves? Probably Terry Pratchett. At home? Hmm. Perhaps a toss-up between J.K. Rowling and K.A. Applegate (lol, initials). YES I STILL OWN ANIMORPHS BOOKS SHUT UP.

2) What book do you own the most copies of?
We have an awful lot of Sherlock Holmes at my house. And I think we have a few copies of Watership Down in varying stages of wear.

3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions?
...Well it didn't until you mentioned it. Bastards.

4) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Sometimes I think I don't enjoy a book unless I fall in love with at least one character. Least embarrassing admissions? Probably Sam Vimes and Sherlock Holmes.

5) What book(s) have you read the most times in your life?
Toss-up between Harry Potter and Watership Down.

6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old?
I think that was when Animorphs started becoming popular. I devoured that shit.

7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
Eesh...I may have to dig into my school stuff, since I didn't do a whole lot of recreational reading in '08, but the book I read on workplace sexual harassment in the European Union (the title of which I misremember) was pretty dull.

8) What is the best book you've read in the past year?
Same disclaimer, but I think Philip Gourevitch's We Wish to Inform You that Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families deserves a mention. It is every bit as horrific as the title suggests.

9) If you could force everyone you tagged to read one book, what would it be?
I'ma separate this into two categories: Most Important (and eye-opening) and All-Around Awesome Book. For Most Important, I would force everyone to read the book I mentioned in the above question (which is about the Rwanda genocide), and/or Iris Chang's The Rape of Nanking. Emotionally exhausting to read, but the stories must be told. For All-Around Awesome Book, I would make everyone read Watership Down. You will read it and you will like it, you uncultured hick.

10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for Literature?
...There's a Nobel Prize for Literature? *Shot dead*

11) What book would you most like to see made into a movie?
First, I'm going to respectfully disagree with the original responder, who said The Giver. The fact that Jonas sees the world literally in black and white is more jarring in text, because you don't realize it until it is explicitly mentioned. Also, I'd be interested to see what a filmmaker would do with Larry Niven's Ringworld, even if I disliked all the pretentious scientific wankery and unnecessary interspecies erotica.

12) What book would you least like to see made into a movie?
 Watership Down as done by modern CG. (I've yet to see the existing animated one.) It would be marketed as a cute funny bunny movie and have fart jokes in it and I would be forced to shoot someone.

13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.
*Blinks* Well, I suppose you could describe my dreams as being vaguely Kafka-esque.

14) What is the most lowbrow book you've read as an adult?
Any and all books on serial killers that I have devoured like so much fucking fudge cake. I have a problem.

15) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
Jane Eyre was pretty painful. Also, I wanted to hurl Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried against a wall.

16) What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you've seen?
....Um. Next!

17) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
The Russians are pretty hardcore, so I guess they'd be the man of the hour. Admittedly I've not read any French authors that I can think of off the top of my head.

18) Roth or Updike?
Never read anything by either.

19) David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?
I've had the most exposure to David Sedaris, so I guess that'd be my default response, although I'm a little confused as to why we're comparing him to Dave Eggers and not Dave Eggers to Augusten Burroughs.

20) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?
Real answer: Shakespeare because he's the only one I've read. Fake answer: Chaucer because Paul Bettany played him in A Knight's Tale. Which means that he also got naked. You have not lived unless and until you have seen Naked Paul Bettany.

21) Hemingway or Fitzgerald?
I've not read any Hemingway, but from what I hear Fitzgerald kicks the crap out of him any day of the week. The Great Gatsby may have had horrible characters, but the writing was badass.

21) Austen or Eliot?
Jane Austen needs to lay off the purple prose. Actually, the same could be said of the entire Victorian period. Srsly guise, take it down a notch. That said, I've not read any Eliot.

22) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
This entire year. Goddamn.

23) What is your favorite Hemingway novel?
I think Justin should answer this question for me because his response would be infinitely more entertaining.

24) What is your favorite novel?
Watership Down. To Kill a Mockingbird is a close second.

24) Play?
My Fair Lady is the best play with the worst ending (SRSLY. GODDAMN WOMAN HAVE YOU NO SPINE.)

25) Poem?
Poetry is lamers. That said, Emily Dickinson and Edgar Allen Poe are pretty badass.

26) Essay?
Anything by David Sedaris, particularly when they're narrated by him. He has the most distinctive, expressive voice I've ever heard.

27) Short story?
Jamaica Kincaid's "Girl" is short and sweet and says a lot. And Stephen King's "1408" made me crap my pants. "Everything's Eventual," from that same collection (it's also the title of the work), is pretty freaky too.

28) Work of nonfiction?
The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson. Very compelling and reads like a novel. Also: CREEPY.

29) Who is your favorite writer?
I don't think anyone could beat the comedic styling of Terry Pratchett. Bill Bryson is also good for nonfiction stuff.

30) Who is the most overrated writer alive today?
Stephenie Meyer. She never took a writing class and it shows. She writes like I did when I was a freshman in high school. Self-insert Mary Sue characters and long flowery descriptions do not a good book make. Christopher Paolini is up there too. Dude, I don't care how young you were when your book first came out, it's still crap. You borrowed elements from every single fantasy story ever, and while this can be done well, with you it just reads like plagiarism. J.K. Rowling did it first and did it better. Also, Terry Pratchett was published at SIXTEEN, and I'll bet you anything his book could kick your book's ass.

So, ran some errands today (read: shopped like a teenager...in my defense, though, I did need tampons, and my spring jacket's falling apart), and since it was such a nice day, I decided to walk to the Midway Target. I got there only to remember that its selection sucks and fails, so I decided to hoof it back to Snelling and catch the 84 to the Har Mar Target down the road. And at the bus stop on Snelling and University, something...uh...interesting happened.

I'm standing across the sidewalk from the bus shelter and two Latino kids (teenagers? I dunno), a guy and a girl. A man stalks down the sidewalk, rather stiffly, toward the bus stop, and I flatten myself against the wall of the building behind me (as it's a rather narrow sidewalk), so the guy can pass me. He does, and stops in front of the Latino boy, who (through no fault of his own) is in his way.

He glares at Latino boy and barks "EXCUSE ME, I'm TRYING to get THROUGH." Like, angrily. I wish I could duplicate his tone here, because it really did come out of fucking nowhere.

Latino boy, clearly bewildered, steps aside and lets the man pass. We stare at him in silence, wondering what the hell just happened. Anger Management steps into a nearby liquor store for a moment, and we exchange "what the fuck was THAT all about?" comments.

Just as we're starting to mind our own business again, Anger Management leaves the store, with a case of beer in his hand. I'm thinking "uh oh, here he comes." Sure enough, he stalks back up to Latino boy (who's in his way again), and glares at him.

"EXCUSE me, I'm TRYING to get THROUGH." He barks again, this time a bit more forcefully.

"You know, you could just fuckin' walk around me," Latino boy says as he acquiesces to Anger Management's demand. (No, I am not quoting Pirates of the Caribbean and saying "acquiesce to his request," because this was NOT a request.)

"You kids are all a bunch of little shits," Anger Management growls, then walks away grumbling under his breath. I thought I heard the word "spic" at one point, but I wouldn't swear to it.

"Yeah, tell that to your mama...vo madre.*" Latino boy says. Anger Management continues to grumble, and is on his (not so) merry way. Again, we exchange bemused comments, after which the bus comes.

Now that I've written this down it doesn't sound that bad, but being there was awkward as hell. I figure there has to be some sort of reason behind this, like an addiction or mental/social disability of some sort. I'm sure if I knew what exactly Anger Management's circumstances were, I'd probably feel sorry for him. But still...just bizarre.

Also, as mean as this may sound, this may or may not have become my and my roommates' next running joke. >_>

Mmkay, time to do something productive.

Q

*Plz to be correcting my Spanish if it is incorrect, kthnxbai.

So, Kohikki has requested that I post a poem I'm writing for my Creative Writing class (so Maggie, you'll be seeing this tomorrow). I was aiming for slightly unsettling, and it went from that to really fucking disturbing in like two minutes.

I have a problem.

Anyway, here goes:

Possession

Ellen Watson 

Tonight, my darling, you will be mine
And I will be yours
I will make you happy
And I will be happy. 

Tonight, my darling, we will dance
I in my best suit
And you in that red dress
The one that wasn’t red before.

Tonight, my darling, you are the world to me
And I am the world to you
And nothing can separate us
Nothing can break us. 

Your hair is matted and clumped
Your skin is scratched and dirty
Your nails are cracked and broken
Your clothes are wrinkled and stained. 

I will wash you, my darling
I will clean you, fix you
Your hands limp and pale,
Your eyes closed in peaceful rest. 

You were so unwholesome, my darling
So very unwholesome
You spoke out of turn
You tried to escape the inevitable 

But you were lovely all the same, my darling.
I will miss your voice, your tears
Your warmth, and your life.
I will miss them all. 

Such a pity, really. 

You were so beautiful in your agony.

Mmkay, I think I'm gonna go make an appointment with that psychiatrist now. Or like, cry myself to sleep. Whichever happens first.

Q

So, my computer has a virus. Spyware Protect 2009, to be exact, which is a fake anti-spyware program. Last night, while I was looking up ways to get rid of this thing, my computer just fucking STOPPED. I'd say that it froze, but freezing implies that you can use ctrl-alt-del to unfreeze it, and even that wasn't working. So this morning I decided that before I even started the thing up, I would take it to the IT helpdesk to see if they could do anything about it, because I really did not want to deal with this shit on my own. They took it, but now this means I probably won't have my computer back until around Monday. Thus, I am currently computerless. While I don't like that I have to wait for so long, being without a computer may actually allow me to get other stuff done, like class reading. I'll be home on Saturday night, so I'll probably mooch off the family desktop, but I also plan on running errands and doing stuff that doesn't require a computer. So if you don't see me online for the next few days, that's why.

I know there are ways I could have dealt with this on my own. But to be honest, this might actually be better for me; I spend way too much time on the internet as it is, so this might help me find ways to separate myself from it for awhile.

Still, though...get well soon, computer!

Q

EDIT: So, about an hour after I wrote this entry, I got a call from the helpdesk saying they'd fixed my computer. I brought it back and the situation has improved (I had a few popups, but avast came up and was like "yeah, you want me to get rid of those for you?" and after awhile they stopped completely). However, the computer's still not one hundred percent: my internet is somewhat slow, and some pages won't load at all (like the boards). This leads me to believe that the virus isn't completely gone, and I might bring it back in on Monday, or get some extended help before then. So, it's better, but the system is quite weakened, I think. I'm not brave enough to get on AIM just yet, and I'm definitely going to hold off on downloading anything (hell, that probably won't happen for another week or so until I know for sure the threat is gone), but I'll keep in touch. And I'll still do things that require less computer usage.

And here I was all prepared to go computerless. XD

Meme tiem!

Comment to this post and I will give you 5 subjects/things I associate you with. Then post this in your LJ and elaborate on the subjects given.

Justin listed these:

1. Fire

You know, I don't actually know about this one. Actually, no, I lied, I do. My Threat Du Jour for a time was "bitch, I'll burn your house down." (Now it's "bitch, I know where you sleep," but that's neither here nor there.) I also tend to use "die in a fire" or "kill it with fire" a lot. I don't know why I always use fire imagery when I'm being violent; maybe it's because it's one of my fears. I'm pretty terrified of fire. I get paranoid just cooking something on the stove--I nearly had a heart attack when Danny poured oil into a hot pan. I also get massively creeped out whenever I pass by burned-down buildings, or burning cars. (I'm totally fine with campfires, though...not sure why that is.) At the same time, though, I admire it. Pyrokinesis is probably one of the coolest superpowers there is. This is one of the reasons I like Ace from One Piece so much; I would LOVE to have his ability. (He's also smokin' hot, but we won't get into that). Also: poi-dancing. It's sexy shit.

2. Corpses

This one's hardly surprising. I've worked with human remains before, and I make no secret of it. I'm pretty sure everyone who reads this has probably heard me blathering about osteology in some way, shape, or form. Thing is, though, I mostly work with bones. I've not yet had the experience of being elbow-deep in maggots, or anything dramatic like that. And the truth is, while I can handle bones, or soft tissue ON bones, soft tissue by itself squicks me out a bit. Fresher bodies, to me, are more disturbing than the ones that hardly look human anymore. With fresher bodies, you get the uncomfortable realization that you could've passed the person on the street just a few hours ago. I do get curious about my skeletal cases, though: about what they looked like, where or how they lived, what they were like, etc. It's fun to think about.

3. Hair

Ha!

That is all I have to say about that.

4. Anime

I suppose this is hardly surprising. I talk about it quite a bit, and, indeed, I wouldn't have some of my friends if I hadn't gotten into it (or rather, hadn't gotten my mom into it, but that's a whole 'nother story). My favorite series right now are One Piece and Monster, though I do also have a soft spot for Bleach, Furuba, and Ouran High School Host Club. A couple I've sort of just gotten into are Baccano! and Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei, as well as Mushishi. What's funny is that I tend to gravitate more towards the shounen/seinen, whereas my (male) roommate goes for the shoujo.

5. Silliness/Naughtiness

NO U.

Aight betches, gimme some comments.

Q

Goosebumps!

It's a fun exhibit. Surprisingly small, given that it has quite a bit of stuff in it, but it's got a lot of hands-on stuff, and makes for some entertaining moments with visitors.

The first part of the exhibit is called the Challenge Course. There are four separate rooms, each with a different type of fear. The first is called Fear of Animals, and in it are cages with animals most people consider creepy and/or frightening: a corn snake, a tarantula, and two giant African millipedes. There are tubes "connecting" the cages with black boxes below each cage, and the idea is that you stick your hand in and feel whether or not one of those animals has crawled into the box. Of course, the tubes don't actually go anywhere, and even if they did, I don't think any of the animals would be adventurous enough to try them out, since they're cold and dark and scary.  Even so, almost no one sticks their hand in without freaking out.

The second room is Fear of Electric Shock. You place your finger on two electrodes, press a button, and wait for a mild shock. It doesn't hurt--it's rather like getting shocked by a doorknob--but the anticipation is part of the fear. A lot of visitors don't actually do this one right: they put their finger on the electrodes, press the button, then when the shock doesn't come right away they assume it's not working and pull their finger out. WAIT, people. You're supposed to WAIT. It even says that in the instructions.

The third room is Fear of Loud Noises. You sit in front of a high-speed camera, press a button, and wait until you hear, well, a loud noise (which sounds a bit like a gunshot or a door slamming). The camera then records your reaction and plays it back to you, so you get to see yourself freaking out. Lots of fun is had with this one.

The fourth room is Fear of Falling. This is where the gallery supervisor comes into play. In this room there's a device that allows you to fall. We strap you in, push a button, and you fall backward onto an air cushion. Then we release you, press another button that sets the thing back up, and let someone else on. Lather, rinse, repeat. This exhibit also records your reaction while you fall, that you can watch later. The thing about this machine is that it really does look like a torture device. It's big and confining and has straps on it. And since we don't want you flailing around and punching us while you fall, we restrain your arms as well as the rest of you. It's a bit of a mad scientist gig that I enjoy very much.

So, considering all this, interactions with visitors are often pretty entertaining.

The first such entertainment was a group of six little boys, all between the ages of about 7-10. All of them were thoroughly fascinated with the Fear of Loud Noises room; one of the gems I overheard while running Fear of Falling was "Let's do Fear of Loud Noises! I wanna get hurt!" (We can't ACTUALLY hurt you, ya weirdos.) And every time they did the noises activity--EVERY time--they would shriek and jump around upon hearing the bang, and then laugh hysterically at the resulting antics on camera. I never saw what exactly they were doing, but according to a coworker, it was pretty hilarious to watch them.

They also loved the Shadow Game. It's a part of the exhibit where you try to escape a hungry leopard. Your shadow appears on a screen in different shades: if it's black, the leopard doesn't see you. When the leopard looks in your direction, you freeze. If your shadow turns into an outline, it means the leopard has you in its sights, but doesn't actually see you. If your shadow turns red, then the leopard sees you, where it then leaps on you and kills you. The idea is that many animals freeze in the wild so that predators won't see them. The boys, however, played a different way. Whenever the leopard saw them, they would freeze for MAYBE a second, then when they moved (which they inevitably did...they're little boys, after all) and their shadows turned red, they would dive to the floor so that their shadows would disappear from the screen. When I told them that they'd probably get better results by, y'know, STANDING STILL for more than five seconds, they groaned and said "but it's more FUN this way!"

Our second set of winners was a group of older teenage boys, maybe 16-18. These were macho, tough-guy types who were all "hurr, I'm not scared of anything." Then they reached the Fear of Animals room, took a glimpse at what was in there, and went "OMG I'M NOT GOING IN THERE, THERE'S A SPIDER." They too loved the Fear of Loud Noises room, though their goal was to be as stony-faced as possible when the bang went off. Fear of Falling was pretty fun too. After falling you can rate how scared you felt on a monitor next to the machine (on a scale of 1-7, 7 being most scared). Most of them rated their fear as being around a 2, and upon leaving they'd be all "I WASN'T SCARED." I had to fight the urge to tell them that the look on their face while they were falling said otherwise.

Based on these data, I have reached this conclusion: boys are silly.

Q

DEAR PINKEYE AND PINKEYE CURE: YOU ARE IN DIRECT VIOLATION OF MY "SHIT DOES NOT TOUCH MY EYES, EVER" LAW I HATE YOU GO DIE.

Whatever. At least I don't have class today.

Fuck. Fuckety fuck fuck.

Q

Last night I dreamed that my boyfriend was related (somewhat tangentially) to Sarah Palin. And she and her family had nothing but disdain for me. It didn't matter what I said; every time I spoke they would look at me as though I was dog shit, or something. It even got to the point where her husband physically threw me out of a store just because I said something he disagreed with. Pissed me right the fuck off, and I was all prepared to write a dear_stupid letter about them, something along the lines of "dear my boyfriend's family, stop treating me like shit." But then I woke up and realized that he wasn't actually related to Sarah Palin. Which I suppose was a relief, though I was a little disappointed that I didn't get to write the dear_stupid letter.

Also, I dreamed I was eating something rough and crunchy. When I woke up, I realized that I was chewing my own tongue. It had gotten so dry during the night that it was scaly and gritty, and it created the "rough" texture of the food I was eating in my dream. That was a little gross.

Also gross is this weather. I know that people are happy because it's warming up and the snow's melting, but frankly I preferred it when it was 20 below. I hate the gray sky, I hate the standing water in the walkways, I hate the cold, and I hate the rain. As much as I dislike winter, I dislike the transition between it and spring even more. And I kind of liked winning the "whose state is colder?" bragging contests I'd have among my chat friends. February is such a shit month.

I'm still sick, too, which makes everything worse. I'm not feverish anymore, I'm mostly just a snot faucet and I sound like a boy going through puberty. I always thought colds were stupid and pointless; they don't make you sick enough to stay home (I've very rarely missed class because of one), but they affect you just enough to be annoying. You're leaking nasty shit out of your nose and mouth (and it doesn't help that said nasty shit is BRIGHT GREEN), and it gets in the way of everything. I always feel gross in class because my nose is running and I keep having to blow my nose (or at least keep a tissue plastered to my face) so that I don't dribble onto my notebook. The classroom we're in for Creative Writing isn't helping: it's cramped and there isn't easy garbage can access. So I can't just get up and stand over the garbage whenever I need to blow my nose. Fucking irritating.

Oh, and speaking of Creative Writing, can I just go on record to say how much I fucking hate poetry? Every single poem we read in class was utterly gag-inducing and completely self-serving (except maybe the one about the dude finding a dead deer...that was pretty badass). In the time we spent talking about them, most of it was devoted to bitching about how utterly worthless they were as poems. I just don't have the patience for most poetry; there are certainly exceptions (Luke Schirmer's stuff is typically pretty fun to read), but honestly if you were to give me a choice between reading the best book of poetry in the world and a mediocre work of prose, I'd probably choose the prose. I guess I just like the stuff I read to make sense; poetry tends to go against this grain.

Buh. It'd be nice if this were my only class today, but I also have Mark Berkson's Death and Dying class at 6:30. I thought I'd told myself that I'd never take a single evening class ever again, but here I am. Though I loved the email he gave us explaining where the classroom was (it's in the anthro lab). He told us to "look for the skeletons (appropriate companions for our course, aren't they?)".

And now, it's time for me to do something productive. Like nap.

Q

WARNING: this entry may or may not contain talk of boobies. Just sayin'.

So, buying bras is making me a little bit sad now, if just because it appears I have gone up a size.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "but Q/Ellen/Pubis/Wally! Wouldn't that mean your boobies have gotten bigger, thus ensuring that you have achieved a goal you've held since the seventh grade?"

And you WOULD think that, because you would, in fact, be correct in your assumption that I have longed for a good set of jugs.

However, this is not the case. You see, my friends, I have not gone up a CUP size. I remain, and probably will forever remain, an A. No, my growth lies with the BAND size (the number on a bra size, for the uninitiated). What this means is that while I've gained weight, I haven't gained any of it...not a single goddamned ounce...in my boobs. Which annoys me a bit. Goddamn it, if I'm going to gain weight, I at least want the benefits that come with it. But noooooo. It appears that nature will not be so charitable.

Of course, this wouldn't have been all that bad had I not found out the hard way...that is, by buying a bunch of 34A's (my previous size) and finding out upon returning home that none of them fit. Thus, I went back to Target to return them. All of them had been on the clearance rack, so they were cheap, and I had the receipt, so the exchange wasn't gonna be an issue. But......the dude at the customer service desk was...well...a dude.

I hesitated for a few minutes, thinking "craaaaaap, why me?" and trying to decide what to do. I usually see chicks at that desk, but now, when I most needed them, they weren't there. Typical, I thought. Finally, I scolded myself for being such a petty wuss, sucked it up, and went to the counter. I figured that since he was an employee, he would be professional about it, and if he wasn't I could just report his ass to the manager. And he was; he acted the same way you would if you were exchanging, say, a teakettle, and everything went fine. That didn't stop me from wanting to sink into a hole in the floor, however. And it didn't help that the security camera monitor was right in front of me, so I got to watch myself make a fuss over lingerie on a big screen.

Once I actually got to the bra-hunting, though, I found something interesting: cross-hatch bras. That is, bras with the straps crossed in the back. Now, the first time I saw them, I thought "oh, there's no way I have anything that would even remotely go with these things." Straps crossed in the back, I thought, meant that they would be clearly visible and conspicuous and I would thus look the harlot. I decided to try one on anyway, just for kicks, and on my way to the dressing room, I passed a rack full of tank tops. With, I discovered, cross-hatch backs. It also occurred to me that they looked like just a few of the ones I myself owned.

Interesting, I thought. Could it be that these bras were designed with just such a garment in mind?

To test this, I grabbed one of the tank tops and headed to the dressing room. I tried on the other bras I'd gotten, then the cross-hatch one, and put the tank top on over it. And, lo and behold, the bra straps disappeared. Completely. It was like magic! The bra may have been a struggle to put on, but it had a purpose!

Upon leaving the dressing room, I dumped one of the regular bras, then went and found another cross-hatch. I also bought one of the regular ones with the assumption that they would still have a use too, then went to the checkout. I also bought the tank top. It was cute, after all.

And with that, I leave you with thoughts of boobies and lingerie. Have fun, kids.

Q