We keep these out because they're pretty and don't make us look like nerds.
The bookshelf in my office is a different story.
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
A book I did not enjoy, and some mail that I did!
I thought this book was something else when I started reading it. But then it wasn't and I didn't really enjoy the direction it took. Also? It's a kids' book, which I wasn't expecting. So I wrote "free book" in the cover and left it on the bus. I hope somebody finds and enjoys it, and it doesn't just end up in lost and found forever.
---
And now for something positive. Erin "Disaster" and I did a rad trade. I sent her this, and she sent me this:
(It's a 35mm back for my Diana F+ camera, and some expired 120 film too!)
I already threw the 35mm back on the camera and have been toting it around with me ever since. I'm so stoked that I'll be able to use the Diana more. Processing 120 film around here is ridiculously expensive, especially because I'm still learning about the medium format camera world. One good photo ends up costing me like twenty bucks.
I also got this in the mail, which I forgot I won in a blog giveaway like a month ago!
I win!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
My (rather extensive) reading list...
First off, I'd like to say that I really hope this whole 'rapture' thing isn't happening...I mean...I'm a pretty decent human but by no means do I pray or devote time to any deity in any way. So wish me luck with the whole not going to hell thing, I guess. Could one of you vouch for me? That would be great. Thanks!
And now...back to my regularly scheduled awesomeness.
***
I'm one of those people whose mind goes absolutely blank the moment I enter the grocery store a library or a video store.
(For those of you under 20 years old, a video store is somewhere that used to house VHS cassettes, and more recently DVDs. You would have to leave the house, go all the way to the store, actually pay money to borrow the movies for a few days, and then have to leave your house again, go all the way back and return it on time or be charged ridiculously expensive late fees. It was rather inconvenient and I'm glad those days are nearly over.)
Those days are far in the past now though, now that I've come up with my new invention: a list.
That's right, it's ... a list. Of books I want to read. I carry it on me at all times, just in case someone mentions a must-read, or there's a surprise library (or book store) visit in my future.
At first, my list was just a piece of paper. But then that wasn't sturdy enough to withstand my bus-nomad, large-purse-or-backpack lifestyle. So I started carrying around an ugly little coil notebook, and wrote 'the list' down any old which way in that book.
But it was even more inconvenient. I would be standing in the A's section of the library frantically flipping the pages trying to find the title of that Atwood book I was pretty sure I wrote down weeks ago. I felt rather conspicuous. Nobody flips notebook pages in the library stacks. It's weird. I was a library weirdo!
But then, one day: epiphany! I had just ordered three REALLY pretty notebooks from the Black Apple Etsy store. (You must check it out if you haven't already.) And I thought "Wouldn't it be nice if my list was attractive...and alphabetical?"
And thus was born...the narwhal book. I've been using it for a year or so now, so it's kind of beaten up, but I think it just adds character.
***
I am in love with this book.
A notebook is meant for scribbling thoughts, for making notes, for jotting jots. So don't be stingy with the pages, or you'll have an empty notebook for ages.
Love it.
***
My list continues to grow. Don't judge. I'm one of those people who hasn't read very many classics because they're paced so slow and I don't care about 1800s romance. That also goes for Love in the Time of Cholera. Ugh. Seriously. But you know what book was surprisingly awesome? The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle! It was really cool and hardly racist at all, haha.
***
These are all the books I will read soon, presented to you now in fancy pants alphabetical order:
(click the images to see larger size)
***
Have you read any of these before? What did you think?
Do you have any other recommendations? I would love to hear them!
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
off the cuff
I started just free-writing today, but three paragraphs later I still hadn't really said anything. I'm in a real writey mood actually. I think today would be a great day novel writing. Yup, I'm one of "those people" who has "a novel I'm working on".
It's really darn difficult to write a book, I don't know if you know this. Ha.
I'm actually not bad at the 'writing' aspect, it's the 'getting to a point' or 'having a theme' thing that's difficult for me. I can just have characters endlessly say witty things and go on adventures or whatever, but ... how does one reel it back in? Wrap it up? There never seems to be a natural ending to anything I start. Do any of you have any advice for me on that? It's really hindering me because I'm constantly over-thinking everything, asking myself whether or not this is going to lead anywhere or if it's just funny, you know?
Anyway, so far today has been really lovely. It's sunny out, but not hot. It's that kind of weather where you can go out in a t-shirt or a sweater, pants or shorts, whatever you want. You won't be too hot or too cold.
We were out of coffee here so I took a short walk to the nearest Serious Coffee, came back, got the dog and took him for a "big" walk. He tires really quickly, so a "big" walk is like twenty minutes. It was nice and leisurely though, with me sipping my coffee, and him trotting along and occasionally sniffing a fire hydrant or whatever dogs do.
When we were almost home I noticed three birds in a field. One was clearly a baby, and couldn't quite fly, and the other two were feeding it. When they noticed us, they kind of ushered the baby into a clump of grass but it was totally clueless and hopped back out, chirping for more worm bits and opening its mouth wide. I told it maybe it should be more careful because there are cats in the neighborhood who like eating little birdies. It didn't listen though. Stubborn little thing.
And now, here I am with the whole day before me, full of sunshine and creativity! What a perfectSunday Wednesday so far.
Here are some very random pictures from last week that I don't really know what to do with:
1. Burnout! 2. Don't bonk your head on the bus ceiling. 3. Some kind of flower.
It's really darn difficult to write a book, I don't know if you know this. Ha.
I'm actually not bad at the 'writing' aspect, it's the 'getting to a point' or 'having a theme' thing that's difficult for me. I can just have characters endlessly say witty things and go on adventures or whatever, but ... how does one reel it back in? Wrap it up? There never seems to be a natural ending to anything I start. Do any of you have any advice for me on that? It's really hindering me because I'm constantly over-thinking everything, asking myself whether or not this is going to lead anywhere or if it's just funny, you know?
Anyway, so far today has been really lovely. It's sunny out, but not hot. It's that kind of weather where you can go out in a t-shirt or a sweater, pants or shorts, whatever you want. You won't be too hot or too cold.
We were out of coffee here so I took a short walk to the nearest Serious Coffee, came back, got the dog and took him for a "big" walk. He tires really quickly, so a "big" walk is like twenty minutes. It was nice and leisurely though, with me sipping my coffee, and him trotting along and occasionally sniffing a fire hydrant or whatever dogs do.
When we were almost home I noticed three birds in a field. One was clearly a baby, and couldn't quite fly, and the other two were feeding it. When they noticed us, they kind of ushered the baby into a clump of grass but it was totally clueless and hopped back out, chirping for more worm bits and opening its mouth wide. I told it maybe it should be more careful because there are cats in the neighborhood who like eating little birdies. It didn't listen though. Stubborn little thing.
And now, here I am with the whole day before me, full of sunshine and creativity! What a perfect
Here are some very random pictures from last week that I don't really know what to do with:
1. Someone wrote 'ew whore' on the bus stop...it's kind of funny. 2. My most recent library scores. 3. Free exercise bike!
1. Burnout! 2. Don't bonk your head on the bus ceiling. 3. Some kind of flower. 
1. Flat tire. 2. What are you looking at? 3. My first attempt at making scalloped shorts. Could use some work. :)
Okay. Time to write. Later alligators.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
She told me not to say anything...
...but big thanks anyway to Erin for the awesome semi-surprise I got in the mail today.
I can't wait to read the crap out of this book and see what all the fuss is about. :)
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Date a girl who reads.
---
“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”
| Rosemary Urquico (via burn0ut) --- I found this quote on Tumblr and LOVE it. I don't think I could live without reading. |
Sunday, October 24, 2010
On novel writing
It's so frustrating...I've got like TWENTY FIVE THOUSAND words down (it sounds like more in caps I think) but it's all short story-ish. I'm aiming for a novel, not a ... compilation. Nothing is going together right.
Have any of you ever written an entire book? Did you plan it out before hand or just ... start? I have a bunch of good pieces, but it's useless without a theme or something.
Maybe I need to plan more and start again.
Advice? Consolation?
Have any of you ever written an entire book? Did you plan it out before hand or just ... start? I have a bunch of good pieces, but it's useless without a theme or something.
Maybe I need to plan more and start again.
Advice? Consolation?
Monday, September 27, 2010
encyclopediae woes
Say you were walking down the street one day and found an entire set of encyclopedias.
What would you do?
Would you
A) Keep on walkin' because old roadside books are gross and smell bad and maybe have a spider web in the box that you might find later.
B) Stop, look, lament the fact that a perfectly good set of learnin' books are on the side of the road and then wistfully leave them there, gazing back every few steps, but being realistic because, you know what? You have the internet. Who needs encyclopedias?
C) Panic, call your boyfriend asking him to leave the kids home alone so he can bring the car to where you are standing guard against the billions of other people who are obviously going to come snatch the books out from under your watchful gaze.
And so then maybe you chose 'C', and got the books back to your house. You cleared two entire shelves off for the encyclopedias. You got rid of the old boxes. You decided the books didn't really smell like mildew like you had feared.
What do you do when you realize, a month later, that you really don't want them? They're useless. You can't shake the thought that they're dirty, old, smelly and spidery. They're taking up tons of space and they're heavy. You can't admit this fact to your boyfriend, who owns the car, because of the huge fuss you made about really really wanting them.
How do you get rid of them?
Do you
A) Admit you were wrong, and ask for his help bringing them to the dump?
B) List them on Craigslist as 'free, you pick up', making them out to be much better than they really are on the internet to trick somebody into taking them away?
or C) Systematically take one at a time and dump it in a different garbage can every time over a few months, and also place one in everybody's recycling bin late at night to get the recycling guys to take them away.
Of course, this is all hypothetical.
But seriously, what would you do?
What would you do?
Would you
A) Keep on walkin' because old roadside books are gross and smell bad and maybe have a spider web in the box that you might find later.
B) Stop, look, lament the fact that a perfectly good set of learnin' books are on the side of the road and then wistfully leave them there, gazing back every few steps, but being realistic because, you know what? You have the internet. Who needs encyclopedias?
C) Panic, call your boyfriend asking him to leave the kids home alone so he can bring the car to where you are standing guard against the billions of other people who are obviously going to come snatch the books out from under your watchful gaze.
And so then maybe you chose 'C', and got the books back to your house. You cleared two entire shelves off for the encyclopedias. You got rid of the old boxes. You decided the books didn't really smell like mildew like you had feared.
What do you do when you realize, a month later, that you really don't want them? They're useless. You can't shake the thought that they're dirty, old, smelly and spidery. They're taking up tons of space and they're heavy. You can't admit this fact to your boyfriend, who owns the car, because of the huge fuss you made about really really wanting them.
How do you get rid of them?
Do you
A) Admit you were wrong, and ask for his help bringing them to the dump?
B) List them on Craigslist as 'free, you pick up', making them out to be much better than they really are on the internet to trick somebody into taking them away?
or C) Systematically take one at a time and dump it in a different garbage can every time over a few months, and also place one in everybody's recycling bin late at night to get the recycling guys to take them away.
Of course, this is all hypothetical.
But seriously, what would you do?
Friday, September 24, 2010
EE! One of my photos is being featured on indie ink!
(For those counting, this is my second time!)
Check it out here.
In other news, hey how are ya? I've been a busy busy chap, what with the boyfriend having a birthday and working on stuff and having a job and not writing blog posts and everything.
The bus is really getting old to me these days. I'm doing everything in my power to distract myself during the 1 to 2 hours I spend on it every day. Good books work as long as I have music at the same time to drown out the insane conversations that invariably occur directly behind me. Why is half the bus always drunk? Seriously.
I've been considering watching tv shows on my iPod, but to me that's crossing the line into gettingrobbed-ville. Not that I live in some ghetto or anything but once in a while there's a character who would rob a bitch for sure.
Lately, I've been trying to exercise my mind, because making the same trip every day with unbearable company makes me extremely restless. I got all ninety something podcasts by Notes In Spanish Advanced and they rule. They're free on iTunes, it's just Ben and Marina, a husband and wife, and they discuss current affairs for like twelve minutes. In Spanish. Marina is from Spain and Ben is from England, so it's especially useful because he makes mistakes and Marina corrects his grammar.
And, speaking of awkward segues about Spain, I think for my 30th birthday I'm going to walk the Camino de Santiago. I mean...I know it's not something you can just do. Or maybe it is if you're already in good shape and know a thing or two about long distance walking, but that's not me. So yeah. I have two years to get ready.
That's a good landmark birthday thing to do, no? I'm hoping that maybe along the way I can pick up a little spirituality, in which I am greatly lacking. Or at least see the country I've learned so much about. Spanish history is pretty amazing.
I bet every country's history is amazing if you take the time to look it up though, huh?
Maybe I should get some history books to read on the bus. Any recommendations?
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Two moments from yesterday evening.
Scene: me, waiting at the bus stop, downtown Victoria. (as usual)
Mentally disabled man stands beside me, starts talking.
Me: (taking earbuds out of my ears) Pardon me?
Guy: What your name?
Me: Nova. What's your name?
Guy: Richard
Me: (nods)
Guy, AKA Richard: (extends hand out, as though we were going to shake)
Me: (Does the same to be polite.)
Richard: (Does crazy secret hand-shake kind of thing, complete with fist pounds and some kind of thumb thing with jazz fingers.)
Me: (Tries to keep up with crazy hand-shake.)
Richard: (Goes in for the hug)
Me: (Realizes he has a lot of dried ketchup on the corners of his mouth and on his white shirt.)
Richard: You're a nice lady.
Me: Thanks.
Richard: (Stands there staring for an awkwardly long time staring at me.)
Me: So...did you have a good day today?
Richard: Yeah. (Rolls eyes as though it was a totally lame question.)
Me: Me too.
Richard: What bus you on?
Me: The thirty*.
Richard: Me, twenty eight.
Me: Oh.
Richard: My bus is coming. (points)
Me: Oh, yeah, there it is. Cool.
Richard: See you later. (Even more elaborate hand-shake, followed by hug.)
Me: (Leaning way back, stiff one-arm hug, trying not to encourage any more physical contact) Yup, bye.
Richard: Cute glasses.
Me: Okay. Bye! (Note to self: Never wear glasses at the bus stop again.)
-----later, on my walk home-----
Seeing a bunch of 'free stuff' left over from a garage sale, including books, I wander over to some guy's yard. He's kneeling on the curb, scrubbing it with an old shirt.
"I left a few cans of paint out here and look what they did."
I look...yep, definitely a mess. I wonder who "they" is.
"Hm, that sucks. Hey, is that a full set of encyclopedias?"
Two minutes later I'm on the phone with Ryan asking him to come pick me and 26 books up.
Mentally disabled man stands beside me, starts talking.
Me: (taking earbuds out of my ears) Pardon me?
Guy: What your name?
Me: Nova. What's your name?
Guy: Richard
Me: (nods)
Guy, AKA Richard: (extends hand out, as though we were going to shake)
Me: (Does the same to be polite.)
Richard: (Does crazy secret hand-shake kind of thing, complete with fist pounds and some kind of thumb thing with jazz fingers.)
Me: (Tries to keep up with crazy hand-shake.)
Richard: (Goes in for the hug)
Me: (Realizes he has a lot of dried ketchup on the corners of his mouth and on his white shirt.)
Richard: You're a nice lady.
Me: Thanks.
Richard: (Stands there staring for an awkwardly long time staring at me.)
Me: So...did you have a good day today?
Richard: Yeah. (Rolls eyes as though it was a totally lame question.)
Me: Me too.
Richard: What bus you on?
Me: The thirty*.
Richard: Me, twenty eight.
Me: Oh.
Richard: My bus is coming. (points)
Me: Oh, yeah, there it is. Cool.
Richard: See you later. (Even more elaborate hand-shake, followed by hug.)
Me: (Leaning way back, stiff one-arm hug, trying not to encourage any more physical contact) Yup, bye.
Richard: Cute glasses.
Me: Okay. Bye! (Note to self: Never wear glasses at the bus stop again.)
-----later, on my walk home-----
Seeing a bunch of 'free stuff' left over from a garage sale, including books, I wander over to some guy's yard. He's kneeling on the curb, scrubbing it with an old shirt.
"I left a few cans of paint out here and look what they did."
I look...yep, definitely a mess. I wonder who "they" is.
"Hm, that sucks. Hey, is that a full set of encyclopedias?"
Two minutes later I'm on the phone with Ryan asking him to come pick me and 26 books up.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
skine my mole
Why do moleskines have such a lame hipstery douchebag pretentious reputation? Because gosh darn it I love them. Proof:
I bought all these on the Etsy yesterday.
And EEE! I can't wait to write all my meaningful poetry and important political musings down in them. Or just make endless to-do lists like I usually do. At least they'll be in style.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
zombocat and progress update
Okay well after a crisis around 2pm today where I realized I had wasted around six hours putting together a research paper for my 20th century Latin American Literature class on Jose Marti ... who did not live during the 20th century.
Yeah. It dawned on me after having basically read and typed up his biography like 40 million times.
Wait a minute, is that a nineteenth century date? Hmmm DAMNIT!
Luckily I was alone in the house so the only guy who had to hear any swearing was the kitty and she was like RAAH I'm a zombie because it's easter and that's some hilarious topical humor!
Entertaining, right?
So anyway now I'm just putting the finishing touches on an analysis of a rad story that I'm so glad I got to read. It's called Chac Mool, by Carlos Fuentes. First, CLICK HERE to find out what a Chac Mool is if you don't know, or you'll be like "what the eff is going on?", then CLICK HERE to read the English translation of the story. It's not the best translation ever but you'll get the point.
So anyway yay me, you know, for doing that, but I just finished this paper and it's ten at night and I have like 100 hours of crap still to do by tomorrow afternoon and I'm totally freaking out up in here.
AAAGH
~fin~
Yeah. It dawned on me after having basically read and typed up his biography like 40 million times.
Wait a minute, is that a nineteenth century date? Hmmm DAMNIT!
Luckily I was alone in the house so the only guy who had to hear any swearing was the kitty and she was like RAAH I'm a zombie because it's easter and that's some hilarious topical humor!
Entertaining, right?
So anyway now I'm just putting the finishing touches on an analysis of a rad story that I'm so glad I got to read. It's called Chac Mool, by Carlos Fuentes. First, CLICK HERE to find out what a Chac Mool is if you don't know, or you'll be like "what the eff is going on?", then CLICK HERE to read the English translation of the story. It's not the best translation ever but you'll get the point.
So anyway yay me, you know, for doing that, but I just finished this paper and it's ten at night and I have like 100 hours of crap still to do by tomorrow afternoon and I'm totally freaking out up in here.
AAAGH
~fin~
Friday, January 29, 2010
why have I not read this before?
I really like the surrealist manifesto. ("Le Manifeste du Surréalisme" André Breton, 1924)
I have always wondered what it is about manifestos that make people crazy enough to read them, memorize them, and carry pocket sized books about them. Now I know, because I sort of feel like this little thing is talking about the way I think and the art I appreciate. It kind of gets me, in a totally hippie existential bill-and-ted "woah" kind of way, know what I'm saying?
"Let us not mince words: the marvelous is always beautiful, anything marvelous is beautiful, in fact only the marvelous is beautiful." (Breton, 1924)
To read the entire thing, click here.
I have always wondered what it is about manifestos that make people crazy enough to read them, memorize them, and carry pocket sized books about them. Now I know, because I sort of feel like this little thing is talking about the way I think and the art I appreciate. It kind of gets me, in a totally hippie existential bill-and-ted "woah" kind of way, know what I'm saying?
"Let us not mince words: the marvelous is always beautiful, anything marvelous is beautiful, in fact only the marvelous is beautiful." (Breton, 1924)
To read the entire thing, click here.
Monday, January 4, 2010
welcome to the bookstore
You know how when it's the first day of class and you're excited to go buy your text books and see what you're gonna be forced to read in excruciating detail for the next three and a half months?
And so you think "hey, maybe I should go to the bookstore and pick up my textbooks, since I'm 45 minutes early for my first class and that's obviously plenty of time. I'll probably have to go sit somewhere and wait for like half an hour afterward because there is no way that a line-up can take more than fifteen minutes."
Well guess what? You're wrong.
Dead wrong.*
*not actually dead.
Because hey, everybody else had the same idea. I'm talking three line-ups worth of people. Not being able to get to your books on the shelf because line-ups are in the way and people are running around not looking where they're going and knocking shit out of your hands.
The line went from the cash registers, down the magazine aisle, around the half-price calendars, doubled back on itself past the people by the magazines, and then kept on going to the back of the bookstore.
I got into line waaaay at the back of the store immediately because the lineup went right past the Spanish section, which was kind of convenient for me. I could shop while I waited. And wait I did. I waited and waited for about five minutes. We didn't move that entire time.
And then I realized that one of my classes wasn't technically in the Spanish section. It was way over there in the L's.
"Damnit" I said out loud, making everybody around me give me that half disapproving half I-don't-care blank-stare look. I stormed over to the Latin section, grabbed my weird religious textbook and the book of poetry (barf and double barf) and went back to the line.
A girl barged past me when I made it back to the Spanish section, snatched up a bunch of books and apparently on the verge of tears exclaimed "Well, it looks like I'm going to be reading five novels this semester. In SPANISH!" and she stormed away. We all had our best blank stares on and I thought to myself that I was glad she wasn't me. Then I double checked that I only had to read three novels IN SPANISH. Yes. *whew*
The girl in front of me asked me if I could hold her place in line because she forgot a book. I stared at her for a good five seconds before I mumbled 'sure', not because I was considering the question exactly, but because I was pissed off at myself for not asking the person behind me to save my place the first time I was in line.
I checked the time on my phone.
She went and came back.
"we didn't move" I said, and we did that 'we're in this together now' camaraderie thing where we laugh and then studiously avoid each others' gaze for the rest of the time we have to stand by each other. Friends by proximity.
I looked at the clock on the wall.
20 minutes of slow shuffling and watching the faces of the people coming into the store and realizing that yes, this is the lineup later I was near the calendars. I was considering buying one with dolphins in it and wondering how many types of mustaches I could draw on them, and if I came out with my own Dolphins with Mustaches calendar would every page have to have a fantastic mustache or could I get away with one of those stupid like two triangles type mustaches on one because I'm not sure I could come up with 12 different styles.
Then I checked the time.
20 minutes after that I was passing the Adbusters and Macleans, and my heart was racing. I felt like I was doing something daring. It was almost my turn!
First class of the term** and I was probably going to be late.
The security fence things kept beeping. They must have had the sensitivity set to 'beep for no reason all the time' mode. I watched the security guards ignore it all, instead looking at the hundred and fifty backpacks left at the front door, making sure every person who left only left with one.
I regretted leaving my big orange bag there, even though I took everything worth anything along with me in my jacket pockets. What if somebody wanted my green umbrella or my used spiral notebook?
The girl I had let cut earlier turned around and sang "We're alllmost theeeere!" and I gave a weak "yaaay" as a response.
When it was finally my turn, when I was the chosen one, and the main line director told me which check out I should go to. I celebrated on the inside. I was gonna make it to class on time after all! All hope was not lost!
The girl was the slowest cashier on the face of the planet. I ran up and was like "whew, lucky me, I have a class starting in five minutes" and she was like "oh, looks like you're taking some interesting classes here"
***scan***
"and hmm... ahh, literature ..."
***scan***
"and oh, look at this. hm. lots of reading to do, huh? so about our return policy ..."
meanwhile I was grabbing a bag, opening it, doing the whole paying thing, throwing books into a bag and nodding and going "mmhmm" in my most frantic 'hurry up' tone. I gladly paid the extremely redonculous textbook prices including $98 dollars for a bunch of photocopies (stupid coursepacks! GRR) and got the hell out of there.
And yeah, I made it to class.
Late.
Ah whatever. All I missed was a bunch of "hi my name is" and "I'm this type of professor"
Of course my shoes were extra squeaky when I barged into the classroom. And my desk was also squeaky. And the floor was kind of slippery so my shoes slid on the floor after I had sat down and made another loud squeak sound.
______QUOTES FROM CLASS_____
**"don't use the word semester. here in canada this does not apply. we use terms, which comes from the Latin trimester..."
when asked how strict he's going to be, grammar/spelling/accentuation-wise on our assignments (because it's a literature class from "origin" to 1700, aka old weird dialects and stuff and we're all anglophones first):
Prof: I expect your grammar to be impeccable. That is, without sin. Impeccable comes from the Latin 'peccare'-to sin. People used to believe that souls were like a blank slate and a sin would leave a mark on it."
me: Damnit.
prof:Tell me a verb in English that ends with -ate. They all have cognates in Spanish.
girl in class: hate
me: preambulate
prof: no, not those ones!
_______________
So yeah. I'm not ready to do this again guys!
But at least now I have exciting tales of bookstores and etymology to regale you with
So, friends, I will leave you tonight with Ryan's quote of the day:
"what's that reality show called? biggest slut in the house?"
And so you think "hey, maybe I should go to the bookstore and pick up my textbooks, since I'm 45 minutes early for my first class and that's obviously plenty of time. I'll probably have to go sit somewhere and wait for like half an hour afterward because there is no way that a line-up can take more than fifteen minutes."
Well guess what? You're wrong.
Dead wrong.*
*not actually dead.
Because hey, everybody else had the same idea. I'm talking three line-ups worth of people. Not being able to get to your books on the shelf because line-ups are in the way and people are running around not looking where they're going and knocking shit out of your hands.
The line went from the cash registers, down the magazine aisle, around the half-price calendars, doubled back on itself past the people by the magazines, and then kept on going to the back of the bookstore.
I got into line waaaay at the back of the store immediately because the lineup went right past the Spanish section, which was kind of convenient for me. I could shop while I waited. And wait I did. I waited and waited for about five minutes. We didn't move that entire time.
And then I realized that one of my classes wasn't technically in the Spanish section. It was way over there in the L's.
"Damnit" I said out loud, making everybody around me give me that half disapproving half I-don't-care blank-stare look. I stormed over to the Latin section, grabbed my weird religious textbook and the book of poetry (barf and double barf) and went back to the line.
A girl barged past me when I made it back to the Spanish section, snatched up a bunch of books and apparently on the verge of tears exclaimed "Well, it looks like I'm going to be reading five novels this semester. In SPANISH!" and she stormed away. We all had our best blank stares on and I thought to myself that I was glad she wasn't me. Then I double checked that I only had to read three novels IN SPANISH. Yes. *whew*
The girl in front of me asked me if I could hold her place in line because she forgot a book. I stared at her for a good five seconds before I mumbled 'sure', not because I was considering the question exactly, but because I was pissed off at myself for not asking the person behind me to save my place the first time I was in line.
I checked the time on my phone.
She went and came back.
"we didn't move" I said, and we did that 'we're in this together now' camaraderie thing where we laugh and then studiously avoid each others' gaze for the rest of the time we have to stand by each other. Friends by proximity.
I looked at the clock on the wall.
20 minutes of slow shuffling and watching the faces of the people coming into the store and realizing that yes, this is the lineup later I was near the calendars. I was considering buying one with dolphins in it and wondering how many types of mustaches I could draw on them, and if I came out with my own Dolphins with Mustaches calendar would every page have to have a fantastic mustache or could I get away with one of those stupid like two triangles type mustaches on one because I'm not sure I could come up with 12 different styles.
Then I checked the time.
20 minutes after that I was passing the Adbusters and Macleans, and my heart was racing. I felt like I was doing something daring. It was almost my turn!
First class of the term** and I was probably going to be late.
The security fence things kept beeping. They must have had the sensitivity set to 'beep for no reason all the time' mode. I watched the security guards ignore it all, instead looking at the hundred and fifty backpacks left at the front door, making sure every person who left only left with one.
I regretted leaving my big orange bag there, even though I took everything worth anything along with me in my jacket pockets. What if somebody wanted my green umbrella or my used spiral notebook?
The girl I had let cut earlier turned around and sang "We're alllmost theeeere!" and I gave a weak "yaaay" as a response.
When it was finally my turn, when I was the chosen one, and the main line director told me which check out I should go to. I celebrated on the inside. I was gonna make it to class on time after all! All hope was not lost!
The girl was the slowest cashier on the face of the planet. I ran up and was like "whew, lucky me, I have a class starting in five minutes" and she was like "oh, looks like you're taking some interesting classes here"
***scan***
"and hmm... ahh, literature ..."
***scan***
"and oh, look at this. hm. lots of reading to do, huh? so about our return policy ..."
meanwhile I was grabbing a bag, opening it, doing the whole paying thing, throwing books into a bag and nodding and going "mmhmm" in my most frantic 'hurry up' tone. I gladly paid the extremely redonculous textbook prices including $98 dollars for a bunch of photocopies (stupid coursepacks! GRR) and got the hell out of there.
And yeah, I made it to class.
Late.
Ah whatever. All I missed was a bunch of "hi my name is" and "I'm this type of professor"
Of course my shoes were extra squeaky when I barged into the classroom. And my desk was also squeaky. And the floor was kind of slippery so my shoes slid on the floor after I had sat down and made another loud squeak sound.
______QUOTES FROM CLASS_____
**"don't use the word semester. here in canada this does not apply. we use terms, which comes from the Latin trimester..."
when asked how strict he's going to be, grammar/spelling/accentuation-wise on our assignments (because it's a literature class from "origin" to 1700, aka old weird dialects and stuff and we're all anglophones first):
Prof: I expect your grammar to be impeccable. That is, without sin. Impeccable comes from the Latin 'peccare'-to sin. People used to believe that souls were like a blank slate and a sin would leave a mark on it."
me: Damnit.
prof:Tell me a verb in English that ends with -ate. They all have cognates in Spanish.
girl in class: hate
me: preambulate
prof: no, not those ones!
_______________
So yeah. I'm not ready to do this again guys!
But at least now I have exciting tales of bookstores and etymology to regale you with
So, friends, I will leave you tonight with Ryan's quote of the day:
"what's that reality show called? biggest slut in the house?"
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters
Book Review time, yo
We all know of the Jane Austen novel Sense and Sensibility.
It’s a classic story of sisters and courtship and…some kind of love story drama …bustles and kerchiefs…okay, okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve never read it.
The truth is I think the archaic notions of waiting to marry into money and women aquiver with heaving bosoms are boring.
That’s why I love the Quirk Books’ new series of revamped Jane Austen books, in which Austen is listed only as a co-author.
I was first introduced to these masterful additions of monsters and gore when I was stuck in the Calgary airport for three hours. I picked up Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith (and Jane Austen) at the insanely expensive bookstore. I’ll even admit that I judged the book by its cover. A pretty lady covered in blood with half of her face missing; it was love at first sight.
The flight from Calgary to Victoria is less than two hours long, and by the time we arrived my mind’s eye had borne witness to epic battles of life and un-death.
It was exciting, and at the same time, I was subconsciously absorbing the general plot and the who’s who of the original work; the estates and carriage rides and talk of money and hand holding were there, but not at the forefront of my imagination.
I may be a bit biased. I love a good monster movie or horror story. I’m pretty sure that if they put monsters into textbooks I’m sure I’d have a GPA of 4.0; The Biology of Frankenstein, Alien Invasion at the Bay of Pigs, King Kong Does Advanced Calculus, World War II: Hitler versus Godzilla and The Culture of the Ancient Mummies would be best sellers.
Needless to say, I was entertained throughout the entire novel and finished it in only a few days. It was such an interesting, fresh and funny way of writing, and a great introduction to the world of Jane Austen which I had somehow neglected all twenty seven years of my life. When the book was over, I sighed contentedly, and gave it a prominent place on my bookshelf.
When Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters by Ben H.Winters (and Jane Austen) came out September 15th of this year, I had to have it, and fortunately received it right away as a birthday gift.
I ended up reading half of it that same day, alternating between silent appreciation of Austen’s manipulation of prose and my own disgusted exclamations of “GROSS!” courtesy of Winters.
The book is set in an alternate universe version of mid-Regency England in which one day, all of a sudden, a change occurred in bodies of water all over the planet.
Known by the protagonists as “The Alteration”, this change caused every creature of the ocean to suddenly develop into mutated, intelligent and murderous beings. Their sole purpose in life became to wreak vengeance upon human kind.
The reader follows Elinor, Marianne and Margaret Dashwood, along with their mother, to their new home on Pestilent Isle, to Sub Marine Station Beta, a dome built four miles under the ocean, and back.
There are is a large amount of excitement over love affairs and secret crushes; most notably the dramatic fling and subsequent break-up between Marianne and Willoughby the dashing treasure hunter who saved her from a deadly octopus attack.
Not being a fan of romantic stories in general, I was grateful for all the breaks in the monotonous “why doesn’t he write” lamentations and the “who will marry who” drama that seemed to preoccupy the women of that time.
As a woman of the 21st century I actually find the tales of fighting zombies and sea monsters easier to relate to than the archaic courtship rituals of those times.
But in this book I can almost stand the amorous ruminations when they are given by the man-monster colonel Brandon, or by the girls, if, at the same time, they are being attacked by gigantic trained lobsters.
In this way, Ben H. Winters found a way to make a girl like me find unexpected heroes in the antiquated characters from another time.
Admittedly, Winters does go over the top sometimes, throwing everything from steampunk imagery to pirates to sea-witch curses into the already insane subplot of the sea monsters. The battles are so distracting at times that the reader has trouble keeping up with the story. But there is no denying the amount of sheer enjoyment I got out of the time I spent reading this book.
I know purists and book snobs everywhere are sneering into their lattes as they read this, but to them I would like to say that these books are for the rest of us: those who are only looking to be entertained without doing an in-depth literary study.
If you love monsters, gore, and gratuitous violence but you’re still not sure you want to read this book, I would recommend watching the ultra-cheesy trailer for Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters on YouTube first to get an idea of what you are getting yourself into.
We all know of the Jane Austen novel Sense and Sensibility.
It’s a classic story of sisters and courtship and…some kind of love story drama …bustles and kerchiefs…okay, okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve never read it.
The truth is I think the archaic notions of waiting to marry into money and women aquiver with heaving bosoms are boring.
That’s why I love the Quirk Books’ new series of revamped Jane Austen books, in which Austen is listed only as a co-author.
I was first introduced to these masterful additions of monsters and gore when I was stuck in the Calgary airport for three hours. I picked up Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Seth Grahame-Smith (and Jane Austen) at the insanely expensive bookstore. I’ll even admit that I judged the book by its cover. A pretty lady covered in blood with half of her face missing; it was love at first sight.
The flight from Calgary to Victoria is less than two hours long, and by the time we arrived my mind’s eye had borne witness to epic battles of life and un-death.
It was exciting, and at the same time, I was subconsciously absorbing the general plot and the who’s who of the original work; the estates and carriage rides and talk of money and hand holding were there, but not at the forefront of my imagination.
I may be a bit biased. I love a good monster movie or horror story. I’m pretty sure that if they put monsters into textbooks I’m sure I’d have a GPA of 4.0; The Biology of Frankenstein, Alien Invasion at the Bay of Pigs, King Kong Does Advanced Calculus, World War II: Hitler versus Godzilla and The Culture of the Ancient Mummies would be best sellers.
Needless to say, I was entertained throughout the entire novel and finished it in only a few days. It was such an interesting, fresh and funny way of writing, and a great introduction to the world of Jane Austen which I had somehow neglected all twenty seven years of my life. When the book was over, I sighed contentedly, and gave it a prominent place on my bookshelf.
When Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters by Ben H.Winters (and Jane Austen) came out September 15th of this year, I had to have it, and fortunately received it right away as a birthday gift.
I ended up reading half of it that same day, alternating between silent appreciation of Austen’s manipulation of prose and my own disgusted exclamations of “GROSS!” courtesy of Winters.
The book is set in an alternate universe version of mid-Regency England in which one day, all of a sudden, a change occurred in bodies of water all over the planet.
Known by the protagonists as “The Alteration”, this change caused every creature of the ocean to suddenly develop into mutated, intelligent and murderous beings. Their sole purpose in life became to wreak vengeance upon human kind.
The reader follows Elinor, Marianne and Margaret Dashwood, along with their mother, to their new home on Pestilent Isle, to Sub Marine Station Beta, a dome built four miles under the ocean, and back.
There are is a large amount of excitement over love affairs and secret crushes; most notably the dramatic fling and subsequent break-up between Marianne and Willoughby the dashing treasure hunter who saved her from a deadly octopus attack.
Not being a fan of romantic stories in general, I was grateful for all the breaks in the monotonous “why doesn’t he write” lamentations and the “who will marry who” drama that seemed to preoccupy the women of that time.
As a woman of the 21st century I actually find the tales of fighting zombies and sea monsters easier to relate to than the archaic courtship rituals of those times.
But in this book I can almost stand the amorous ruminations when they are given by the man-monster colonel Brandon, or by the girls, if, at the same time, they are being attacked by gigantic trained lobsters.
In this way, Ben H. Winters found a way to make a girl like me find unexpected heroes in the antiquated characters from another time.
Admittedly, Winters does go over the top sometimes, throwing everything from steampunk imagery to pirates to sea-witch curses into the already insane subplot of the sea monsters. The battles are so distracting at times that the reader has trouble keeping up with the story. But there is no denying the amount of sheer enjoyment I got out of the time I spent reading this book.
I know purists and book snobs everywhere are sneering into their lattes as they read this, but to them I would like to say that these books are for the rest of us: those who are only looking to be entertained without doing an in-depth literary study.
If you love monsters, gore, and gratuitous violence but you’re still not sure you want to read this book, I would recommend watching the ultra-cheesy trailer for Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters on YouTube first to get an idea of what you are getting yourself into.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
I should just wear this every day.
Today Ryan and i went to the thrift store to drop off some things for needy people. You know, like our old bent cd rack, children's books with some of the pages scribbled on, and that video camera that takes cassette tapes. Things they really need.
We're benevolent like that.
Well, this particular store places no value on books at all, which is great news for me because i value them highly. So I wanted to look at the books. Ryan was willing to give me a few minutes.
I found Watership Down for 69 cents.
and One Flew Over the Cucoo's Nest. wait. how do you spell cuckoo? ah, there we go.
So then I was all "I found four books i wanted for less than three dollars! score!"
to Ryan but he was all the way across the store looking at something blue and red and fuzzy.
Was it was some kind of santa hat?
No.
It was A PAPA SMURF COSTUME!
Yes. really. Can you believe it? I still can't really.
And, on top of that, because it is so near Halloween, it was half price.
Regular price was nine bucks.
Duuuude. As soon as we got home I put that sucker on, and we had a photo shoot, haha.
It was way too small for me, especially in the butt-area. I think it was made for a ten year old boy, but WHO CARES? It is awesome.
PROOF:
(I didn't really know what smurfs do, so I was just kind of standing around and then picked up a rock. And then I found a mushroom...the rock one makes me laugh every time i see it)
We're benevolent like that.
Well, this particular store places no value on books at all, which is great news for me because i value them highly. So I wanted to look at the books. Ryan was willing to give me a few minutes.
I found Watership Down for 69 cents.
and One Flew Over the Cucoo's Nest. wait. how do you spell cuckoo? ah, there we go.
So then I was all "I found four books i wanted for less than three dollars! score!"
to Ryan but he was all the way across the store looking at something blue and red and fuzzy.
Was it was some kind of santa hat?
No.
It was A PAPA SMURF COSTUME!
Yes. really. Can you believe it? I still can't really.
And, on top of that, because it is so near Halloween, it was half price.
Regular price was nine bucks.
Duuuude. As soon as we got home I put that sucker on, and we had a photo shoot, haha.
It was way too small for me, especially in the butt-area. I think it was made for a ten year old boy, but WHO CARES? It is awesome.
PROOF:
(I didn't really know what smurfs do, so I was just kind of standing around and then picked up a rock. And then I found a mushroom...the rock one makes me laugh every time i see it)
Monday, September 14, 2009
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