Thursday, October 19, 2006

This is about me

1. FIRST NAME? That's classified. Sorry. If you're in the know, can it.

2. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? My parents claim I was not named after an Allman Brothers song.

3. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? Hm. I'm not sure. It's been long enough that I can't remember. Probably a couple-few weeks.








11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Yeah. They won't come off my feet unless I do.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? I know it, yo.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR? Breyers natural vanilla.

14. SHOE SIZE? 9

5. RED OR PINK? red.

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I forget conversations I had sometimes. It's really frustrating.



19. WHAT COLOR PANTS, SHIRT AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? I am wearing a red shirt, black skirt, and black shoes.

20. LAST THING YOU ATE? blueberry muffin



23. FAVORITE SMELL? Dogs. Sandalwood. Bacon cooking.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My friend, Heather. No, not that heather.

25. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO? I notice that they are humble and not extremely showy. Also, they're the one making jokes and helping people.

26. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON you stole THIS from? yeah. She's a peach.

27. FAVORITE DRINK? coffee, I guess.

28. FAVORITE SPORT? to play, roller derby. To watch, American football.

29. EYE COLOR? Blue

30. HAT SIZE? I've no clue.


32. FAVORITE FOOD? Chicken Marsala, maybe.

33. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? I like scary movies.

35. SUMMER OR WINTER? Out of those two, winter. Winter in the south is nice.

36. HUGS OR KISSES? hugs, probably.

37. FAVORITE DESSERT? tiramisu



40. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING? Right now, I am not reading any book. Strange, isn't it?

41. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE Pad? Nothing. It's burgundy-colored, though.

42. WHAT DID YOU WATCH LAST NIGHT ON TV? news, old South Park. Didn't watch the new one 'cause I fell asleep at 9:45. I know, I'm lame.

43. FAVORITE SOUNDS? good music.



46. WHAT'S YOUR SPECIAL TALENT? I have some talents, but they are not special.


48. WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? came from heather's blog.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Flickr Fiction Friday

Going Out

As he led us around the ruins, we could see the remnants of old paintings which had been commissioned by the royal family. The surface was chipping off, but we could still make out the deeper hues which had not yet been worn away.

"What's this one?" the smallest child asked. "What are those things on her eyes?"

The child was pointing to a large mural of a woman's face. Her skin was glowing like we were not used to; even through the chipped and flaking paint the glow was incredible. Large dark circular plates covered her eyes. These plates were attached to sticks that appeared to balance on the tops of her ears. The child raised his hands to his own eyes, brought together the tip of the thumb and forefinger and made perfect circles through which he peered at his classmates, mocking the strange shapes which covered the woman's face.

The guide spoke.

"Those are called sunglasses, Bilo. They were used to improve vision by making darker the lights from the sun. When our people lived above, they were assaulted daily by the hot, harmful light waves that reached the Earth's surface. Sunglasses are just one of several ingenious devices our ancestors used to protect themselves from the damaging effects of the sun's energy and light."

Another child raised his hand and the guide acknowledged him to speak.

"What's a sun?"

With this, the guide began to fidget. The subject was always a strange one for the children who visited the ruins, the ones who had never seen it, the ones born after the descent. The guide crouched down so he was looking the child directly in the eyes.

"The sun is a star. It is the star around which all the planets in our solar system revolve. The light and energy produced by the sun was, at one time, responsible for all the life and plant growth on the surface of the planet."

The child's pale, fat face contorted and his eyes began to scan the walls. He looked anywhere but at the guide's face. It was clear that the words meant nothing to the small boy. The guide stood up, shrugged his shoulders, and continued the tour.

We had arranged the tour of the royal ruins as part of an ancestral appreciation project which coincided with the month of The Going. We felt it best to show the children at least a portion of the world that was once available to us, even if it was only the images in the uppermost subterranean chambers. That is really all we could possibly show them until The Going, and, even then, they would only see a glimpse, before the gates were shut tight again. And, even then, it would be the older children who were allowed to see. The younger ones were protected from knowing of The Going until at least their 18th birthday.

We continued to the large foyer at the apex of the subterranean chambers, where the main elevator shaft was located. I helped the guide herd the small children into the open doors. A few of the young men stayed behind with us. I pressed the button and, as the doors slid closed, I looked at the eyes of the children and thought about the things they didn't know and about the things I was about to experience by leaving the safety of the subterranean chambers.

Their eyes looked cold. I should not have expected them to feel compassion for us, the guide and myself, because there is no way they could have known. Still, I could not help but feel malice toward them. It could have been jealousy, for they had fifteen years before they would even be eligible to participate in The Going, some of them even longer. In a sick manifestation of self-pity, I smiled as I took comfort knowing that one day they would be at risk, as well.

The last millimeter of space between the elevator doors locked shut. I looked at the guide, searching his face for traces of the fear I was feeling, but saw nothing there. He was used to this. He had been walking the chosen up to these doors for five years. He had seen it all: mothers, doctors, old gray men, pregnant women. When you were chosen you went or you were forced to go. Most chose to go of their own accord. But now, the guide himself had been chosen, along with me, and we were ordered to ascend and expose ourselves to the outside.

The young men stood at the back of the chamber with wide eyes. Oddly, the guide clasped my hand and we began to approach the main gate to the outside. He opened the inner glass door. We walked through, and he locked the airtight seal behind us. There was no turning back. As the gate was thrust open, there was a bright flash of light, then heat, then the hard thud of my face on the sweltering ground. The gate slammed closed and we were alone.

As I felt my flesh bubble in the heat, I thought about sunburn and sprinklers and an aloe plant my mom used to cool the burn. I was happy that I had these fond, summer sun memories--the type of memories that the children would not ever know.

I thought of growth, as I watched the flesh melt off the guide's thin face. And then I slept.

This is a piece of Flickr Fiction. It was inspired by this photo by flickr user tangent. This story feels extremely incomplete to me, but I posted it anyway, because it's Friday and I want to be a good flickr fictioner. (: Any comments are appreciated. It's kind of different from what I usually write, which is one of the things I like about flickr fiction. It gets me moving in a different direction than I am used to.

You can find Chris Cope's flickr fiction for today at this link.

You can find TadMack's at this link.

Elimare's is here.

This one is by The Gurrier.

And this one is by aquafortis.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Friday, July 07, 2006

no flickr fiction

broken wrist. roller derby rears her ugly head. bleh. typing is a pain. sorry, y'all.

Friday, June 30, 2006

Flickr Fiction

It will be near the mountains--they're really not mountains, but rather hills--and you will know you've reached the right spot when the hills are to your left and to your right is a full nothing of nothing as far as you can see.

You will feel both calm and tense; your shoulders will drop and your jaws will clench. She will be there. She will be there, where you left her. She will be there, near the fence, where you left what's left of her: the photograph.

You will wish you had never taken the photograph, but you will wish even more that you could see her without having to look at the deteriorating photograph. You will wish that you could see her in your head, or, better still, that you could see her real and pink flesh as you did that day.

You will know that if you were to carry the photograph, you would be discovered, so you will refrain. You will let it stay there, where it is safe, out there in the nothing.

Things are always safe in the nothing; they lack connection to any something and they cannot be compared to other actions. In the nothing, there is not a right and there is a not a wrong, and that is why you have gone there and why you will return again and again.

Your refrain is the click of covert camera-shot and the warm spill of blood and the drain of color down to pale blue. You will sing it more and more and you will bring their photographs to the nothing to add to the composition. You will not bring them there--no. You will not contaminate this place with such physical things.

If you should suspect others have found the gallery of nothing, you will abandon it forever. You will not return. You cannot return. The song will be over but you will begin a new one, because it it what you love.
Sorry to be so morbid. This is a contribution to Flickr Fiction Friday based on the photo shown above which was posted by Flickr user, rougerouge. Thanks!

I became hip to this game through the talented Gurrier. Other participants are Teaandcakes, aquafortis, Elimare, and Chris.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

I fail as a flickr fictioner

So, hey there, bloggerworld. I have to confess that I am an idiot. There's this awesome Flickr Fiction thing, where you get a picture and have to write a little piece of fiction inspired by it. It's a creation of TheGurrier and is a wicked-fun game. Anyway, I am usually really good at following directions, but this time I flaked supremely.

The first week I was supposed to participate, I was sick, so I didn't. The second week I was supposed to participate, I wrote on the wrong picture. (I wrote on the pic that is scheduled for this Friday rather than the one scheduled for last.)

This post is an opportunity for me to apologize to those who do participate, since they all linked to my page thinking I'd have a story up. bleh. So, along with The Gurrier, I'd like to openly apologize to the following folks for making a liar out of ya when you linked to my page and said I was participating:

Chris Cope
and also to anyone who followed the link here and was disappointed by the lack of fiction and the wealth of dog makeup.

This time, man, I am ready. I get the concept, and if I fail again, I don't really derserve to play, now do I?

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Nothing new under the sun

What's great about this country is that America started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest. You can be watching TV and see Coca-Cola, and you know that the President drinks Coke, Liz Taylor drinks Coke, and just think, you can drink Coke too. A Coke is a Coke and no amount of money can get you a better Coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking.
--Andy Warhol

Thought of this last night while I was watching the season finale of Medium. I am a daily reader of the blog, which is written by wife, mom, writer, ex-Mormon, Heather Armstrong. I have become slightly obsessed with checking the blog. I check it as often as I check heatherfeather's and machineghost's and they are friends of mine, people I know, people I have lived with. (OK, I'll admit to obsessively checking Chris Cope's blog now, too. I can't help it. He's one funny mofo. )

So, back to my Warhol/Coke moment. As you may know, I watch Medium on NBC every Monday. In the past, I have not been a primetime-drama-watching kind of person. (Most of my favorite shows have been animated comedies.) Recently, though, I've taken to watching Medium and House religiously. I say "religiously" because, let's face it, I don't have any religion in my life and I probably need some. Having spent my formative years staring at Sesame Street for hours a day, it's no wonder I have found such ecstatic bliss in television watching. You may think it is sad, but I don't really find it sad at all. I have finally gotten to where I am OK with this. I'm a junkie for Patricia Arquette and Hugh Laurie. In the grand scheme of things, I think I'm gonna turn out just fine nurturing this jones.

A couple of weeks ago, Heather Armstrong (dooce) made a comment on her blog about a cheesy piece of dialogue in an episode of Medium (which she did not identify by name). I let out a gleeful little giggle followed by a disgusted moan of self-loathing. Why was I happy that she was watching one of "my" shows? Can't exactly say, but I was. Then, last night, as the opening credits were running, right after the teaser-dream that always precedes them, I had this thought: dooce is watching this right now.* Then I had this one: Andy Warhol/Coca Cola. And that Warhol quote just exploded in my mind. It was something I had forgoten, but something that had really struck me hard the first time I ever read it.

I will admit that I felt a dirty, at first, when I was happy to find out one of my favorite bloggers watched the same TV show as me. It just didn't seem like the kind of thing someone like me would get happy about. Yes, I am a horrible TV-watching junkie, but I'm not much of a starstruck groupie starfucker who likes to look at magazines about celebreties and famous people. I don't care what toothpaste Angelina Jolie uses. I don't need to know that Paris Hilton scratched her cootch on the beach and I certainly don't need to see a picture; however, I was as giddy as a boy-band fan that dooce and I have the same TV tastes. So, it's been a weird set of feelings for me to try to unpack.

But, I suppose, what it is that excites me is the kind of thing that Warhol discussed: no matter who you are, where you live, or how rich you are, how known you are, there are certain commodities that you--as an American--will have access to. And, many of those commodities are accessable in the same way and variety for everyone: there isn't a special Coke that rich people get; there is not even a different brand of soda that is an elite brand and is vastly more expensive or inaccessable than what we all have access to. Coke is the shiznit of sodas and you can't get a better one than I can, even if you're Trump.

And TV's the same way. OK, OK, granted, the extremely poor cannot afford a TV, but they can watch TV almost anywhere they go nowadays: restaraunts, bars, banks, stores. Also, I am not so naive that I don't realize that many poor people will pay a cable bill before a few other bills that are probably more vital. How do I know? Well, for starters, I grew up pretty poor and my parents eventually declared bankruptcy, but we never, NEVER had a lapse in cable television. Just didn't happen. Wouldn't happen. Nope.

I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with all of this, but it's something I'll probably drone on and on about for a few days. My apologies.

*This morning, I realized that this is actually not even likely to be true. My guess is that the show airs at a different time in Utah, but why don't you just play along, OK? Thanks.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Yes, I am probably a socialist

You are a

Social Liberal
(88% permissive)

and an...

Economic Liberal
(18% permissive)

You are best described as a:


Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid
You can just start calling me Gandhi if you want.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

I forgot how to knit

Sort of, but not really.

I was super busy at work for the last three weeks, so I had no time to knit. I was only getting an hour or so in on Sundays; aside from that, I was working or sleeping. I'd say "or eating" but the eating was all done while working, so it was still considered working.

OK, I bathed, too. That's about it.

So, yeah, the knitting. I have been trying to knit this shirt for T for a long-ass time, and I just keep making mistakes over and over again—stupid mistakes, leaving out steps. I have had to start over again four times already, and I'm a bit frustrated with it. It's a pretty simple pattern, but, for some reason, I just keep forking it up. So, I have set it aside and will work on it when I have a more clear head about it.

So, I started a sock! I've never knit a sock before and I am told that it is pretty simple if you just follow the instructions—just a few new techniques to learn. These are techniques I will be able to use in the future, so it's good to learn them sometime. The great part is, I already know kitchener stitch, so that's one down.

Right now I am just on the cuff, so nothing tough. I already know how to knit on two circular needles, and I like to do so, so this part is easy and fun. I got some very soft bamboo yarn that I am in love with now. Seriously, it's the softest yarn I have felt yet. I had no idea you could make such a nice and soft yarn out of bamboo.

I can't stop buying CDs. I have a problem. It seems like everyone has just put out a new CD: Tool, Bruce Springsteen, Dresden Dolls, The Flaming Lips, Pearl Jam, Rainer Maria. I'm happy, but, geez, I'm breaking the bank.

Then, this guy at work tells me about this which is soooo just the shit. So, that comes out today. *sigh* What else? The Dr. Katz first season DVD comes out today. God damnit, I'm not made of money. I did, however, get a fatty fat tax refund check. But I really need to control my spending. grrrrr.

So the man and I are planning on going out to Red Rocks to see a show later this summer. I really want to see Ben Harper. That one's in August. There's a 311 show on July 28 and a Ween/Flaming Lips show on July 29. I'm really tempted to go for that and see both of those. I have not yet seen the Flaming Lips in concert and I am dying to. I just saw Ween a few weeks ago and it was spectacular.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

random crap

Imbeciles! Ya know, in some instances, keeping an accurate inventory doesn't really matter too much; I posit that the storage of deadly biological materials should never be one of those instances.

Advil has a special place in my heart...and my abdomen.

I worked 67 hours last week and I've already worked 26 hours this week, in two days. I know, I know, people work 60 and 70 hours every week. I'm not one of them. I work 60-70 hours for a portion of the year, and by the time it's over, I'm nearly delirious. I loves me some sleepin'. After next week, I'm golden. (:

I got some roller skates and I'm joining the roller derby after next week. This girl I work with gave them to me. Isn't that rad? I actually do know how to roller skate. I was one of those bitchin' kids who went skating every Friday night--the early session and the late session. Oh yeah, I was cool like that. (Friggin' nerd) Anyway, I'm excited about kicking some ass.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Circus Freaks

So, I just got home from the Cirque du Soleil show, Delirium. It was awesome as soon as I stopped trying to figure out what the hell was going on (there was clearly a plot, it was just a plot I couldn't follow). About three or four songs in, I decided that trying to keep track of the story was taking away from my experience, so I just forgot about doing that.

There was this unreal hula-hoop chick who did things I was not aware were possible with a simple hoop (or 10).

There were these four bald men in silver underwear who balanced on top of one another and did fancy cheerleader flips; but, the flips were better than cheerleders have ever done. You know when they fling the chick up in the air, she does a flip, then they basket catch her? Yeah, well these dudes were doing flips like that, but the flipper was landing on either his hands or his feet. Not impressed yet? He landed on the arms of two of the other guys; these arms were at 45 degree angles, yet they were supporting not only the weight of a man, but the weight of a falling man. And, when he landed, their arms did not move toward the ground--not an inch (or centimetre, probably, to Canadian Frenchies).

It was wicked-cool. You should go if you can. The lucky thing for me is that I went for free. muhahahahaha.

Heather, I kept pretending the singing ladies were you, because I remember you talking about wanting to sing for them, a long, long time ago.

The light show! I forgot about that part. It was incredible. They had these screens that were bigger than Imax screens, and they had moving screens. Stuff projected EVERYWHERE.

Very cool.

Biggest and heaviest show they've done at our Civic Center, yet. Heavier than Cher, and that was one helluva show. Yay! The building didn't fall down!


  1. Do you think word verification is, like, really, really hard for dyslexic people? I'm pretty good with words and letters, and sometimes I fuck it up.
  2. I saw a very fat homeless (I think) man on Friday. What's up with that? My intuition tells me that homeless folks are generally skinny--you know, scrounging for food and all that. This guy was a big'un. Sorry if this is politically incorrect. *shrug*
  3. There are people who know how to cooperate with other drivers when they are sharing the road and people whose primary goal out there is to get ahead of everyone else. There are people who will get in that lane that they know is about to end right after we cross the stoplight, then incosiderately attempt to merge in front of you, nearly hitting your car and not once making eye contact with you. It all works out so much better when we look at one another out there--right in the eyes--and signal one another. It's hard enough to understand your close friends and lovers; how about a little communication among drivers? Is that too much to ask?

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

The pictures as promised

So, here she is. The above photo is, by far, the most acceptable of the few I took.

Here is a demonstration of the slouchy/poochy problem. Not a bad rack, though.

Semi-normal picture.

Sub-par bow-tying abilities.

Tempting is done

So, I finished Tempting, and I would not use the word "tempting" to describe my version of the pattern; "cutesy" would probably be a more appropriate term. I'll post pictures later. It could be the ribbon or it could be the yarn that has rendered this garment so little-girl looking. The yarn is sort of fuzzy/puffy and it makes the thing look like a child's shirt. Add this to the fact that it is light purple, and we're on our way to Cutesville already. When you throw a ribbon around the top and make a little bow in the front, well--all I can say is, "I should have known."

I'm not sure why I thought it would be a great idea to knit a top that features a bow. It looked good and sexy on the pattern designer/model, so I figured I'd have the same results. No. Not even close. Don't get me wrong, I do like it and I will wear it; I simply didn't think I'd look like an overgrown child star when wearing it.

Here's another problem it has: the bottom edge does not sit flat. I'm not saying that it curls up, but it does creep up a little and results in a bit of a poofing-out around the hip area that appears to be a spare-tire-style bulge circling my waist.

Do I sound overly critical? Sure. It's just how I am.

But, regardless, it is my first shirt, and I will wear it with pride, no matter how stupid I look in it.

On to other things: finish T's shirt, which is really only about 1/5 done; finally decide which pattern to use for my first sweater (hourglass, banff, this one from Yarn Girls' Guide to Beyond the Basics, the name of which I cannot recall right now); start a cute little nautiloid; make some kind of slippers for my family to give them at Christmas; and felt something, anything. hehe.

Tempting pictures tomorrow or tonight, I promise.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Tempting, Basketball, Allergies, Birthdays, Numbers

Well, I got the black knitpicks Andean Silk in the mail yesterday, so, work has resumed on Tempting from I think it'll look OK. We shall see.

I watched basketball last night and actually rooted for the Florida Gators. That's waaaaay out of the ordinary for me, but it was the Championship game and I'd rather see a Florida college win than a California one. Plus, as someone from my boyfriend's work put it, "I want the Gators to win tonight because then it will be so much more glorious when the Seminoles beat them next year." Too true. Beating the National Champions will be glorious.

I'm still sick. I figure it's not actual sickness, but allergies, because it ain't going away and I'm not hacking up anything of a strange color. *shrug* That's what I get for living in paradise.

Today is my loverly little niece's sixth birthday! I love that she was born in 2000, because it makes it so easy to remember how old she is. I wish everyone could have been born in 2000, but that would be a lot of people, so maybe not. In 2004, her birthday was 4/4/04.

Tonight, once it becomes tomorrow, actually, at 1:02 and 3 seconds, it will be 01:02:03 04/05/06 and that's cool. Numbers are fun. If you're asleep, don't worry; it'll happen again in the afternoon.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

This was fun

OK I did this magic eight ball itunes thing that my friend heather just did over on her blog. I don't have an iPod, so I just shuffled the songs in my computer and took the ones first in the list, in the order they appeared, as the magic eight ball answers.

It's silly, but, for some reason, amusing.

What do you think of me, itunes?
Sick Sad Little World - Incubus

Awesome, thanks.

Will I have a happy life?
Man Vs Ape - Eyedea & Abilities

I will be fighting off monkeys.

What do my friends really think of me?
Drunk - Tweet

Not yet. It's early.

Do people secretly lust after me?
Strange Loop - Liz Phair

How can I make myself happy?
Road Buddy - Dar Williams

Heather, I think we should go on a road trip someday. hehe.

What should I do with my life?
Stellar - Incubus

huh? *shrug* Astronaut!

Why must life be so full of pain?
cookie jar - Jack Johnson


This song's about blaming other people/scapegoating and shit, so, OK, good answer.

How can I maximize my pleasure during sex?
Are You a Hypnotist? - The Flaming Lips

Not yet! I shall begin my training today.

Will I ever have children?
We're Only Gonna Die For Our Arrogance - Sublime

Hopefully, this means, no.

Will I die happy?
Give Me - Atmosphere


Can you give me some advice?
The Light - Common

What do you think happiness is?
Evaporated - Ben Folds Five

My computer is depressed, I think.

What's my favorite fetish?
Knowing - OutKast

OK. Weird. I don't know much.

Friday, March 31, 2006

Overheard in New York

Woman on cell: Caviar? Nigga, ain't no caviar in Harlem.
--57th & 8th

This site is amusing. Yeah, I'm late to the Internet. Shut up.

I Inadvertantly Disabled Comments

OK, so it's easy to accidentally disable comments in blogger, I have found. I thought that by switching to "new posts do not have comments" or whatever the setting is--I thought by using that setting, I could make it so I don't have "0 comments" listed under the entries, but when someone does comment, then I would have the comment note appear. I thought it seemed silly to have a note about comments there if there were none. I kinda thought it would just put the word "comment" there or something and allow people to comment.

Of course, I was wrong. Thanks, feather! Apparently, what I did means that any new posts I put up will not allow comments, which I would have realized if I had thought about it for a second and looked at the blog. There was just nothing in that spot, instead of the word "comment" with a link to comment, which is how *I* would have designed it if I knew how. hehe.

Sometimes I'm a little slow. Sorry about that. So, yeah, I removed my whiny "I'm sick" blog, because, really, there's no point in that. I also reposted the one about praying.

Let's talk more about that, shall we?

My own personal suspicion is that praying for someone doesn't have any effect on them; however, I'm not saying I think people should stop praying. Praying is cool and if you find it helpful or fulfilling or enlightening or even erotic, have at it! (:

So, I don't want anyone to get the impression that I'm actively dissing folks who pray. That's not my style.

I guess I do something like praying. I hope. I have these little inner monologues where I say in my head "please let such-and-such happen" or "please let work get out early tonight." They are--sort of--little wishes.

Wishes. Yeah, I make a lot of those. Always have. Don't know why. Ain't gonna stop. My attitude about wishes is that if they come true, great, but I'm not counting on it. I'm pleased when they come true, but I don't think I had a damn thing to do with it.

Are wishes just prayers for people who don't believe in God?

"I'll Pray For You."

No thank you. I'd rather you didn't.

"...the complication rate was significantly higher for the 352 of 601 patients (59%) who were confident that others were praying for them, compared with the 315 of 604 (52%) of patients uncertain of such prayers (RR 1.14, 95% CI 1.02-1.28) but who received them, Dr. Benson and colleagues reported in the April 4 issue of the American Heart Journal. The primary outcome was complications in 30 days....The complication rate was 51% (304 of 597) for those who were uncertain of intercessory prayers but did not get them."

Now, I'm not saying this means anything at all, but it sure looks like the people who got prayed for were worse-off in the end.

"At enrollment, most subjects did expect to receive prayers from others, regardless of their participation in the study. We also recognize that subjects may have prayed for themselves. Thus, our study subjects may have been exposed to a large amount of non-study prayer, and this could have made it more difficult to detect the effects of prayer provided by the intercessors."

This has got to be one of the more humorous studies that I've seen. Obviously, it doesn't mean anything. Now, if there had been some massive recovery rate among the patients who had been prayed for, well, then I'd have to take it a bit more seriously. But, all in all, the numbers are fairly even. So, yeah, I think I'll pass on the prayer anyway, though. How about a hug? (:

Thursday, March 23, 2006


So, yeah, I'm going to finish Tempting with the color called "Pitch." It's black. I think I'll put a black ribbon on it, too. I think it might look lame, but whatever. I don't feel like redoing it. I still can't figure out why I'm short on yarn. Oh well.

Of course

I don't have enough yarn to make the medium size either. hehe. I am an inch and a half past the joining of the sleeves to the body, and I have about 40 feet of yarn left. The pattern says I have at least six inches left to go. Six inches of a 224-stitch circumference piece. Oops! Either I heavily modify the top of this shirt, or I make the tippy-top portion a different color. Maybe this shirt is destined to be two colors. hehe.

I did see someone who modified the top of the shirt by doing some decreases and making it more of a normal shirt and less of an off-the-shoulder kind of thing. Maybe I can do something to that effect. I get the impression that I will need to put all of these stitches on waste yarn and put it on before I decide to modify the top. As long as my boobs are covered, I can start doing some decreasing, I think. I shuld have known this would happen.

Oddly, I'm not really very upset about it. Maybe it's because I have the hemp knitting waiting in the wings. Maybe it's because I'm having a good learning experience. *shrug*

Stitch holder, eh? Is that the thing that looks like a giant safety pin? I kind of wondered what that was for. I bought this kit in the beginning with two sets of needles and various other stuff that was completely foreign to me. I still don't know what some of that junk is. hehe.

So, there's another thing about the Tempting pattern that is irritating. The directions are wrong. Seriously. If you follow the directions as they are written, you end up with a weird piece of yarn running from front to back on the inside of each sleeve. I have gathered, from the knittyboard and from web surfing, that you must BREAK THE YARN before putting those 12 (or 14 or whatever) stitches from the sleeve onto waste yarn. You have to either do that or just knit the 12 stitches THEN placve them on waste yarn.

Of course, I didn't realize this until the problem had already occurred. I am winging it. I cut the offensive piece of yarn and knotted the hell out of it on front and back of each sleeve. I don't understand why the pattern has not been corrected on knitty, but it's pretty clear that the pattern, as written, yields unsatisfactory results. See here for a better explanation. meh.

Actually, I just had a thought. Since I am knitting on my Denise interchangables, I can make the circumference of what I am knitting very large. That means that I won't have to transfer to waste yarn to try it on. I can just make one gigantic set of circular needles. That's good news, because I didn't really want to mess with that.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

"spare dpns"

So, they tell me to put some of my stitches on "spare dpns," as if that's something I have. I have ONE spare dpn, because I am only using four out of the set of five. I guess I should have though about that. meh. I crammed them all (it's only 46 stitches) onto one dpn. Hopefully it won't make my sleeves all wonky. I'm just going to be knitting those stitches off the dpn soon anyway. *shrug* Nothing I have in my office is an appropriate size.

Spring Knitting

So, Tempting is moving right along. I hit 14 inches of ribbing last night, put some of those stitches on waste yarn for what will become the bottom of the sleeves, set the main body aside, and started on the sleeves.

The sleeves. *sigh* I hate double pointed needles. Hate. They make my hands hurt; however, I am going to commit myself to making these sleeves on dpns because I need to get used to using them. Last time I used them, I gave up and learned the Magic Loop technique because my hands were feeling tingly with dpns. That's a cop out. I'm sure it's just my hands getting used to doing something new. I remember how much they hurt the first week I was knitting, so I need to just suck it up and forge ahead. It's actually only three inches on each sleeve on dpns, then I join to the body and knit in the round, so, there's really no reason to bitch about it.

On the hemp shirt for my friend, T, front: I got the yarn and pattern yesterday (no picture of the pattern, in case she happens to find my blog)! woot! It's good timing, too, because I'll finish Tempting this week, and I'll need something new to do. I wound up one hank of the hemp and remembered why I need a ball winder and swift. Yeah, I got a little tangled, but I worked it out pretty quickly. Have I mentioned I really like untangling yarn? That is not sarcasm; my knitting buds are well-aware they can toss me their gnarled messes and I will gleefully dissect them for hours.

What else? Hm. I have a bunch of Knit Picks Sierra in charcoal that wants to become a sweater. If I start soon, maybe I can finish it before it gets cold again. hehe. Haven't picked the sweater yet. At first, it was going to be Banff, but now I am not so sure. I have The Yarn Girls' Guide to Beyond the Basics and there are some simple sweater patterns in there, too. Also, someone has told me I should get this book, The Sweater Workshop, so maybe I'll do that and make my own. It would be nice to really learn about sweater construction rather than just follow one pattern.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Tempting Update

So, yeah, Heatherfeather, has given good advice. I have started over on Tempting again and am knitting the medium size this time. I'm glad, too, because I think that the large might slide right off my shoulders; indeed, I am wondering if any size of this pattern would slide right off my shoulders. I guess I'll find out when I'm done. Also, the worst thing that could happen with knitting the medium is that it's too small for me. If that turns out to be the case, I'll just find someone smaller than me to give it to.

So, I'm four inches into it this time, and, man this is fast knitting. I'm getting faster and faster. woohoo! I remember when I first started, I would sit at the knitting group and just stare at the other knitters in awe. I asked them how they got so fast. The answer was always the same: practice, repetition, "I got faster and better at knitting by—fancy this!—knitting!" So, now I see what they meant by that.

Knowing my luck, I'll run out of yarn anyway, even doing the medium size. hehe.

Boring blog. So, bite me.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Vegetables are good for you and so is knitting

I ate Futo Maki for lunch and now I want to dance. I had miso soup and salad with ginger dressing, too. It's the best lunch ever. I'm kind of hungry again, though. I got the four piece instead of the eight piece—bad move. They should make a six piece for me, because that would be just right. I can't finish the eight.

I wanna jump around, but I am stuck here.

Only. 30. more. minutes.


I'm making this and I have seven inches done. I have eight more inches before I get to do anyting other than knit 2 purl 2 rib. snoooooooooozzzzze. The yarn has some mohair in it. I don't think I like mohair. It's awfully fuzzy. At least it's not totally mohair. meh. It's soft, though, the yarn I'm using. It's Andean Silk. What's weak about this whole thing is that I have six skeins of it: 576 yards. The pattern calls for 588 yards. I did get gauge (ghost, that means that I am knitting the correct number of stitches per row and per inch to match the sizing in the pattern), so I figure I'm going to run a bit short. As you can see in the pattern, 6 skeins are required for both the medium and the large sizes. I am knitting the large, so, my guess is that I'm pretty much going to use all of that 6th skein.

So, here's the tricky part: what the fuck do I do to remedy this situation? I have some options.

  1. Just keep knitting and see how far I get in the pattern before I run out of yarn. Clapotis said it needed 3 hanks of Lorna's Laces, but everyone under the sun who knit it said they needed part of a 4th. I didn't even finish my 3rd. Then again, I didn't check gauge on that, because it's just a scarf and I don't care about gauge on it. A con to this option is that if I run out of this color yarn RIGHT before I finish, I am kind of screwed and will have to rip back and figure a new plan of action. Purchasing more yarn in this color is out of the question, because it's from knitpicks and I know for a fact that they don't have any more in the dye lot; last I checked they were out of the color temporarily and receiving more on March 26, so, yeah, I don't imagine it could possibly be the same dye lot. meh.
  2. Choose another color and add some stripes. If I do this, I can be sure I won't run out of yarn. The question, then, is this: what color? The top is cute, but with stripes or a stripe, it's probably going to end up looking like some crappy old navy shirt or something—you know what I mean. Those shirts with a stripe that are in all those stores. *sigh*
  3. Choose another color and make the top half of the shirt a different color than the bottom half. Again, what color? If I pick a contrasting color, like Yarrow, it'll look like an easter egg. I think my only option is black. The grey color they have (slate) looks weird with this purpley-blue which, by the way, is NOT cornflower blue. I know cornflower blue and this ain't it. This is periwinkle or something. I should've bought the Pool color. Oh well.
  4. Other options?

Got any bright ideas? What sucks is that adding another color of yarn is pretty much going to destroy the whole bow thing.

OK, I'll stop babbling about yarn for now. I've killed a good twenty minutes.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

I saw a crotch

I thought it would be fun to click that little "Next blog" button at the top of the page, and it was, for a while; then, I saw some nudie shots on someone's page. D'oh! I'm such an idiot.

Mental note: No clicking "Next blog" while at work.

Bad Music

I think I like a Britney Spears song. Weird. Maybe I just think it was well-produced. *shrug* I don't know. It's called "Toxic." I'm kind of ashamed to admit this, but I think it's the right thing to do. I can't live this lie any more. I heard it a couple of weeks ago when I was eating lunch in this restaurant downtown and I was all "hey, this sounds pretty cool."

Let the mocking commence.

So, I'm still trying to decide if indexing IJ is a good idea or not. Now that I am aware that an idex does exist, the idea has kind of lost its appeal. Still going to reread, though.

Here's the existing index. I think the format is terrible (each entry in a block like that), but it's pretty thorough.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Infinite Index

So, I started, and it's harder than I thought it was going to be. Indexing is difficult to begin with, but indexing a work of fiction--and this work of fiction particularly--is rather an interpretive undertaking. I am forced to decide what is important, what I will want to find later. It's rough.

There are things that I am indexing that perhaps seem like irrelevant minutia, but they are not.

It's going to take more than one read to index. I've gotten to page 43 on this first read and have marked some things. I need to read these pages again to get a better idea of what comes up again and again and deserves index space.

I'm having trouble deciding how to index people--or if I even should index people, as a general rule. There's this part of me that wants to be able to look in the index under "Himself" and be directed to any entry that includes him as a character or is about him. That could get messy, but it would be rewarding.

The trouble is that there are so many people in this book. Shall I index every one of them? Shall I stick to Hal's immediate family only? I think it's overkill to index every time Mario and Hal have a conversation, but, what if I want to find all of them later? I should just do it, I guess. They do have a quite a few good conversations.

I think I will be indexing certain themes, too. Like domestic violence. Wouldn't it be nice to just find all the terrible domestic violence stories by looking under one heading? Yeah.

And words. I am 40 pages into the book and I have already read etymological discussions of 5 or 6 different words. That's the type of thing that I am lucky to have begun marking this early--I know I will find other entries like that, later on in the book, and be pissed that I didn't start marking them earlier. That's why I am saying it'll take more than one read. When I finish this read, I should have a somewhat thorough index, but it will take reading again to really flesh it out. What if, on page 799, I realize I need to have been marking a certain type of entry? I will have missed all the entries on pages 3-798 (starts on 3).

This is gonna be wicked-awesome.

Any tip, hint, advice, or criticism is welcomed and appreciated by me, the mad indexer.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

I'm ready to read it again

As some of you may know (Yes, I am aware the only person reading this is Heather), my favorite book is Infinite Jest, by the talented David Foster Wallace. Last night, when I heard this news story about a Brazillian Christian sect that has been allowed by the US Supreme Court to ingest a hallucinogenic tea in religious rituals, I immediately thought of the book and of the incredibly potent DMZ. Why? The drug they have been ingesting in their tea is called DMT, and I had never heard of it until yesterday.

So, I pulled out the book to read a few passages. I do that every now and then, because every time I do, what I read seems almost new to me: deeper, richer, just--well--new, even though it is not. It can't be helped. It's a book that you simply must read at least two times if you want any chance of digesting/absorbing everything.

Unfortunately, last night, I opened right to my least favorite part to read, Lenz and his canine cruelty. I won't say any more, even though I know the only person reading this has read the book twice. (more?) I read it anyway. I don't know why. I read that passage, the first three pages, and a bit about Joelle, and I realized it's time to reread.

I think seeing the picture of Jake may have had something to do with it, too; I can't be sure.

When I picked it up last night, I wished it had an index. I'm going to make one as I read this time. Hopefully, I can keep up with it, but, if not, I'll index next time. It's going to be HUGE, this index, but I have been reading a bit on indexing recently, and I'd like to practice.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Clapotis, you are done. I have been wearing you for about a week, and I think it's finally time to send you off to mom. You're so freakin' warm, I want to make sure I get you to her while it's still getting cold out.

One day, I will make you a solid-colored sibling, because, while I love you, I think you're a little busy. You're the only variegated thing I have loved. You should feel special.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006