Look alikes?

At this point, I'm not even sure how I got started on an online face recognition/celebrity matching site, but somehow I did. After trying several pictures, apparently I don't look a hell of a lot like anyone (must be my exotic Eskimo features), and most of them were obscure c-listers I've never heard of. (Interestingly, about 50% were asian; I guess it is just a Bearing Strait away from my mother country.)

However, I thought I'd share a few of the stranger/funnier results.

First name to pop up: Pharrell Williams. Well that's good for the self esteem. 

Also got Tiger Woods, Conor Oberst and Apolo Anton Ohno. Jackie O, Michelle Branch and Kate Winslet I can deal with. Penelope Cruz, Natalie Portman and some Victoria's Secret model are A-okay. Helped soften the blow from being told I look like Ashley Olsen (bleh!) 

Now the best, and I can't decide which is my favorite: 
THIS saucy fellow, Oscar Wilde  OR My clearly kindred soul, Bob Marley

On a side note, in a myspace-style photo Gab had taken of herself with my camera, she looks 97% like Angelina Jolie. 

And one for Emily

The origins of Cataract?

How the magic happens plus T-Pain waxes poetic...

For Gab: 

The Lonely Island - Making of I'm On a Boat, Feat. T-Pain

Soo... It's 1 AM

I'm sitting in bed doing homework/blogging. Class was cancelled today, giving me extra time to not do my homework. I *just* finished my fiction rewrite, which is hopefully good enough since I don't have time to think on it. I can't figure out how to decide when I'm done with something. I don't think I could finish anything without a deadline to decide for me. 

I'm talking to Gab and Emily about growing up and how weird it's going to be. I hope I'm a good enough writer that I'll have an publisher demanding more work from me and giving me deadlines so I get shit done.

PS, my head just imploded

=

PS, I just found out that Bret McKenzie was not just any old extra in Lord of the Rings, but the infamous, enigmatic Figwit! What?! Bret's got it goin' on.

What?

I would like a scholarly expert to conduct an anthropological study in the dining hall and explain people to me. I don't understand. 

First off, why does the Dining Hall shirt and apron make you invisible? Even if I'm somehow rendered inhuman and unfeeling by the nasty rubber gloves, I'm still a sizable piece of matter, so I don't understand how people just run into me and don't notice.

Why is it so difficult to get the food ON the plate rather than the floor?

Why must you stand and hold conversations in inconvenient places? 

Do you not believe me when I say we're out of something? Because, no, I am not going to double check. 

Most perplexing: Who eats three takeout containers full of vegetables and nothing else!! Stop that, I don't want to refill the entire salad bar every time you come through. Eat some real food, you won't need so many peppers.

What this flat needs is a globile...

We are classy individuals here in 201A.

No place like home

Here is the newly fantastic view from my desk. Behind me (across the expansive space of the room) is our breakfast nook, with the sun shining through the vocab curtain.

This is what I accomplished in Bio today...

I've discovered I like drawing draft horses. And I'm trying out some old-fashioned looking techniques, looking at old sketches of plow horses. 

Thought vomit

I like the English House. It's a nice place to have class, and a beautiful house. I think when I grow up I want to live in a house that looks like the English House, although there are a lot of beautiful houses in Bryn Mawr/Rosemont, so I haven't completely decided on which one I want yet. But it will be old and dignified and full of books.

My creative writing class is actually crippling, but I love it. My story last week was physically exhausting to write, so seeing it come together finally was doubly rewarding. My professor gave me a glowing review for being '50% there.' I was both elated and horribly humbled that my absolute, gut-bleeding best is still just 50%. My story this week was no where near the same level, it was actually really disappointing. I was really frustrated, but it was the sort of frustrating that makes me want to work at it, so I guess that's good.

I had a riding lesson today that was pretty good, we got to jump which was exciting. I rode Camelot for the first time, he is a lot of fun. I'm annoyed at myself for messing up my course. It was one of those things where I could see my perfect ride then as soon as I started it all disappeared. I need to work on supporting with my leg more, I have this vision of a great, forward, up canter, I get him up in my hand and then I chicken out on following through with my leg, so then I'm just choked up on him and in a disorganized trot. If I could keep my balanced canter through the turn, I could have ridden my line to the jump better and probably avoided all my problems. Oh, the things that are so clear in retrospect.

Sense and Sensibility was a really disappointing movie. What a waste of Alan Rickman as a romantic lead. He was fabulous, dashing, charming, perfect and she broke his heart, then after she gets her heart broken, she marries him. What? You don't settle for Alan Rickman. And there was absolutely no romance between them... nobody even kissed. Not the sweeping romance I was expecting. Why couldn't Alan Rickman play Mr. Darcy??

Triumphant return...

Not really. I haven't written a blog post in a while, so I thought I should, even though I've nothing to say. I don't want to go to work tonight. I have to write a Spanish paper by 5 tomorrow. I also have to take my bio test, but I should study first and I don't want to. 

I'm super pumped for Gab's party, and I'm looking forward to going home Saturday night and seeing my parents. I hope Todd can make it. Then Sunday it will be more working, hopefully I'll finally meet Paulie. 

I like my hotwall and our mantel, but I wish we could remove certain items from the room. 

I don't want to go to work. 

an exercise in contrast

Because I'm distracting myself from my work...

In poetry yesterday we talked a little bit about ballads. I very much enjoy  epic, mythical tales in verse. The music part isn't necessary, I just like the stories. I like the old fashioned tales, but here I present two modern ballads for contrast between, solemnity and shamelessness.

Anyway, it reminded me of a ballad we listened to in class in 4th grade, that I loved. So I looked it up online. I found a pretty good recording, it's The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot, although I think in 4th grade I heard a cover that wasn't quite so "I AM FOLK MUSIC!". It was more articulate, you kind of have to look up the lyrics to fully appreciate them. But I like it anyway, it's so pretty and so sad.

In the course of looking up the exact definition of a ballad, I saw mention of The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins. Well, few things could sound more appealing, so I checked it out. Umm, actually a bit of a travesty, but omfg, so funny. So in contrast I give you The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins, performed, no less, by the esteemed Leonard Nemoy

Ruminating

I'm in Carpenter and I really need to do work. Why does this predicament feel familiar? This is my to-do list for the coming week (so far):

Creative Writing- First fiction assignment due Tuesday, readings for Thursday

Poetry- Reading, reading, more reading, and essay due Friday

Biology- discussion questions due today, preclass quiz by Tuesday,  phylogenetic vocab due Tuesday, concept map paragraph due Wednesday.

Drama y Sociedad- Read Act I&II of Yerma for Monday, Act III for Wednesday, two blog posts due Monday

Later I'm going to the gym with Gab and I'm going to attempt to swim. I'm not looking forward to it, but if I can actually do it regularly I'll be healthier, so I'll try. Hope I don't drown.

Emily wrote part of a novel for her class this morning. It kinda makes me feel like crap when I'm like "I have so much work!" and Emily goes "me too!" then I get on Facebook and she sits down and writes a novel. Whomp. 

So far, the best thing about today is that I'm wearing my Philosoraptor shirt. It makes me happy. 

BLEH!!

I like my poetry class. I truly do. Today I was inspired to scribble this little prose poem on my notes.

Unfortunately, my inspiration was not something pleasant, but rather the incredibly annoying individual in the class who really shouldn't speak. Or be there. And why is her hair pink?

I do not understand. 

An air of superiority hangs about her--

unwarranted--

like Beijing smog, and sickens me.

Each word: an announcement.

(Selected for an obnoxious air,

and empty illusion of importance.)

The smugness is palpable.

It stains her eyes as she

fixes them on each face in turn--

deliberate.

It drips out the corners of her mouth

and paints the cloying smile on.

Each word brings the bile to my throat.

Fool of a Took...

I love this man. He's cute. He's funny. He's Scottish. He's a hobbit. More than just a hobbit, he's Pippin, possibly the best kind of hobbit. 

And in case I didn't love him enough, I found THIS VIDEO.

Best Supporting Eyebrows

"I think Colin Farrell won Best Supporting Actor for this movie."

"Supporting actor? I think he's the lead."

"Actually, his eyebrows won Best Supporting Actor."

Check it.

It one to two weeks, this sweet thing will be in my mailbox.

SICK!

GObama

It's a wonderful day in the neighborhood.

I love Bryn Mawr so, so much I can't even articulate it.

Awww

Let's get some cute pictures up in this bitch.

Oh man....

Exceeds expectations. Far worse. Far far worse than I ever imagined. Not merely an over-budgeted, CGI-as-a-substitute-for-substance, old-man-joke-riddled, Cate-Blanchett-wasting opportunity for Harrison Ford to wear a fedora. An epic-ly cheesy, terribly scripted, poorly acted, predictably ridiculous, over-the-top nonsensical farce. More plot holes than plot-Swiss cheese.

So, so funny. 

I dearly wish I could have watched it with Emily and Gab and my other lovely cynic friends who could have ridiculed it and verbally exclaimed "Jesus Christicles, gimme a break" with me. I am immensely fond of cheesy--more so than is perhaps healthy or normal. I am easily amused by even some of the most terrible, insubstantial books and movies. But I very nearly turned this movie off after the opening sequence... Not only was this movie a waste of Cate Blanchett's talent, I was embarrassed for her. It's a shame to be reminded that such a classy woman is still human and thus prone to mistakes. The script was so bad even Harrison Ford's scowl and stubble could barely give it life (though it helps). Best line of the movie: "I like Ike." Gotta admit, that sold me on waiting out the whole thing.

I am a fan of the original Indys. Good, slick swashbuckling action with a smart script and just enough sweaty n' scruffy sex appeal. But I think the gig is up... and I hope no one is thinking Shia LaBeouf is really the one who can keep it going. Unfortunately, that's clearly the way this is heading, all signs point to a sequel (fivequel?) and water will run downhill.

Eli, the Barrow Boy

That's the song I'm listening to right now.

I had a good day, so far wrote about 1000 words, up to about 6000 now. :)

It's really, really cold outside, and I'm sad that it's too cold to ride.

Tonight I was supposed to go to Paul's and pull his mare's mane for him, but it hit me that it's going to be really effin cold out in the barn. If this had occurred to me sooner, I could have gone this afternoon instead. But it didn't, so I'm taking a rain check for Saturday, when it might at least be above freezing. It's so cold that even Paul didn't give me crap for wimping out.

Leave the gun. Take the cannolis.

I love mobsters, especially in masterful cinematic portrayals. The characters and lifestyle are just fascinating. I love The Godfather for it's classic timelessness. The story is just so so good. And I'm pretty sure Diane Keaton's hair is the only mistake in an otherwise flawless film.

I think I'm mostly fascinated by the sense of normalcy in the mob life. It's a different world, so different, and yet life goes on much the same. It's a really just a different set of rules.

As we all know, I also love The Sopranos, for its very different but also excellent take on mobsters. The modern, sometimes ironic twists on the business, the updated lifestyles and the dark comedy. It has to be a black comedy--it couldn't be any other way. No movie or TV show after The Godfather can be dead serious without falling completely short of the mark. I think the best thing The Sopranos does is not try to be The Godfather. It's fun to see the little roots that The Sopranos takes from the film. But it really is more of a tip of the hat and an acknowledgement that there can never be another.

love

I need to sleep...

I made up for Friday's abnormal productivity by being 100% useless yesterday. I think I wrote about 5 sentences. I did get out to ride Rosie finally, but it is so bloody cold. It was a good ride, but it's even colder today and I just can't do it. I stayed up until 1 and then didn't really sleep. I haven't been out of my pajamas in nearly 24 hours. I really need to get something done today before I feel like complete crap. I just know I'll regret wasting so much time once it's over. 

My brother went back to school today, which makes me really impatient. I'm sitting on my bed trying to figure out what to do with myself and my immediate compulsion is to start packing. But I still have another week to go. It's not that I hate being home, but I feel restless and apathetic at the same time. Maybe I will do some laundry and pack the stuff I know I'm not going to be using/wearing this week.

Your blue suitcase is empty, hey

If you haven't heard Erin McCarley yet, you should. 

Look up some of her performances/bad not-videos made of her songs on youtube. Wait, I'll just post links for you.

Because I can't pick 1 favorite, I'll pick 4.

Pitterpat

Pony (It's Ok)

Love, Save the Empty

Blue Suitcase

stumble down a yellow brick road...

Hmmm... yesterday I was oddly productive, considering my recent track record. I wrote about 4 more pages for my latest story, which brings me up to 9. Trying not to get carried away, but I'm pretty optimistic about this one. Trying to just accept the momentum and roll with it, not worry about what could go wrong. 

Of course, my 4 pages took all day, the time in between writing spent with my usual mindless pursuits.

Mindless seems to be the word for my break. I've been so bored and so excited to go back, although now I'm slightly panicked that I've hardly done a thing. Even worse, yesterday I realized I'm 100% back to my old routine--it's like I never went to school at all. I eat, I sleep, I work, I fill the time with mindless things. When I first left, Bryn Mawr felt like a glorious dream. Then I remembered it was real. Now it's fading again. I can picture everything perfectly, but somehow I can't remember how it was so seamless, so natural. How was that ever normal for me? I keep trying to imagine what it will be like to set foot in the triple again for the first time. I picture Brecon just like it was, my home, yet now I feel like I'll be a stranger again.

And how do I get back there? I don't remember where I found the wardrobe.

When I grow up, I want to be Tina Fey or Amy Poehler.

Or some superhero, super-funny combination of the two.

And by no means classy, either

I don't normally like to talk about the state of the world/current events on my blog for several reasons... 1. it's usually depressing 2. there's enough of that in the newspaper and 3. there's plenty of far more knowledgeable opinions and accounts available, and honestly my blog is the last place to come for real news/things of substance. 

But in light of recent events, I feel compelled to give a shout-out to Israel, in case they're reading... you know. 

Israel-- you, sir, are an asshole.

Wow

On a more serious note, these photos are remarkable.

Okay, that one word was far too succinct to describe them. They are breathtaking, chilling, inspiring, tragic, haunting, illuminating, eerie, otherworldly, sincere, brutal and so so beautiful.

(there is also page 2 and 3)

End the hate

Facing another truth:

Yesterday I turned the radio on for the first time in a while (what was once acceptable diversion is now unbearable THANK YOU RHODES) and heard Britney's new track, Circus.

Now I've never, ever been a Britney fan, but I have to admit she's bloody good at what she does, so today I'm ending the hate. (though I still have no words for the "Leave Britney alone" video)

 Her songs are polished, well-mixed and intoxicating. Sure they don't always make sense, but that's a minor detail. Just don't watch the Womanizer video, you will be confused and hope that Bono starts a charity to buy the poor girl a dictionary. 

But in all, there's something mesmerizing about the slick, stylized, faux-classy musical absence of taste... And show some respect, because no one does it better.

A dream has died...

Back to the important things...

I have faced the sorry truth at last. I didn't want to believe it, but I can't ignore it any longer (after I have so frequently touted the cause of science)

Velociraptors are not actually as badass as Jurassic Park has led me to believe.

In fact, they were 18 in. tall quasi-birds with funky tails that probably could not open doors (or crash through them). I guess I'll have to change the 'interests' category in my profile to "stylized idealistic renditions of velociraptors."

Badass?:

YES!

No.

In what was a slightly redemptive move, one of these disappointing creatures DID manage to become fossilized in the middle of an epic battle to the death. 

Description from Wiki:

"In the "Fighting Dinosaurs" specimen, the Velociraptor lies underneath, with one of its sickle claws apparently embedded in the throat of its prey, while the beak of Protoceratops is clamped down upon the right forelimb of its attacker. This suggests Velociraptor may have used its sickle claw to pierce vital organs of the throat, such as thejugular vein, carotid artery, or trachea (windpipe), rather than slashing the abdomen."

 THAT, I will concede, is pretty badass.

Well, it's 2009

If anyone was thinking that I haven't blogged in several days because my life is far too eventful and exciting, feel free to continue thinking that. 

It seems necessary to acknowledge the passing of 2008, so I took a few minutes out of my eventful and exciting life to remember one year ago. January 4, 2008, I was still in high school. As far as I knew, I was going to Swat, in fact, I'm pretty sure my applications weren't done at that point. Well, maybe some of them were, but certainly not all. I didn't know I was going to Bryn Mawr, and I didn't know that Emily, Gab, Jenna, Alexia and my other lovely Bryn Mawr friends existed. I had a plan for what I was going to do with Rosie in college, I was single and Obama had just won the Iowa caucus. (though those are unrelated)

High school and graduating seem decades away. It's staggering to think about how different my life has become in that one year. 

Ok, enough reflection. Happy New Year!