Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Ah yes, and then there's that game

I done played Apples to Apples on Sunday with Anan and The Adiaphoron and her sister. Ad won first as she got eight cards before the rest of us… narrowly… but we kept playing till suppertime, at which point i was leading with twenty-eight. (Anan! You said "I am Fishy, Hostile, Dreadful, Boring, Irritating, Frustrating, Careless, Dazzling, Crazed, Graceful, Grumpy, Virtuous, Cranky, Gross, Edible, Mysterious, Cosmopolitan, Stately, Insane, Normal, Bold, Quiet, and Natural. Beat that!" We both beat you. If you want i'll beat you again, monkey arms!)

That introduced, i am:
  1. Confused
  2. Hot
  3. Primitive
  4. Trite
  5. Sultry
  6. Disgraceful
  7. Bogus
  8. Comical
  9. Embarrassing
  10. Delicious
  11. Popular
  12. Elegant
  13. Handsome
  14. Durable (i'd mention what won that one, but i promised Anan i wouldn't)
  15. Greasy
  16. Gigantic
  17. Defective
  18. Deep
  19. Darling
  20. Daring
  21. Naive
  22. Frisky
  23. Fresh
  24. Patriotic
  25. Flexible
  26. Flammable
  27. First-Class
  28. Talented
Right. So.

I'm sick again. Yippee. More tea and less cleaning, but that's not good, as the son of the Lutheran Bishop of Kenya is coming on Friday, and the house is still a mess. Oh deah. So why am i blogging?

I don't know. Goodnight.

diapers and spilled milk

I babysat yesterday, five girls. Lovely kids, and i'm not being sarcastic (*gasp*). Ages 1, 3, 6, 8, and 9. Same family.

The oldest three were big helps, and it wasn't hard to get them to do chores etc. The youngest two were a bit different, but still. The three-year-old was too scared to finish The Lion King and required me to stay with her (not that i minded missing the end of the movie) and tell a story, but i like telling stories. And whenever i tried to get something done, she would follow me and repeat, to the point of annoyance, "Maggie!" "What?" "I love you." And then i don't feel like i can tell her to stop saying that.

The baby was probably the toughest to care for, if only because i'm not around babies much. I'm glad that sometime after she woke up, she got enough used to me to allow me to carry her around, ("Maggie, i hold you,") and she was happy most of the time. She went down fairly quietly for nap. She had a crib, though. She couldn't get up and come downstairs like the three-year-old could, and did, till i told some more story and tucked her in with her doggy. They both slept for a long time, and i actually just about finished my art homework. (I finished the rest of it this morning.)

I love coffee.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

language note

On another hand, Gaelic wouldn't be bad, and Mom might let me since i've "learned" a commonish language and a dead one, for roots and such.

Yes i know i'm a day late.

Which frog are you?

Friday, January 25, 2008


I read The Scarlet Pimpernel. I liked it, though it wasn't exceptional, and i probably would've liked it more if i hadn't seen the main part of the end coming (the secret). Hmph.

I'm reading The Adventures of Pinocchio now. It's definitely a kid's book, but entertaining.

"Poor Pinocchio! I really pity you!"

"Why do you pity me?"

"Because you are a puppet and, what is worse, because you have a wooden head."

At these last words Pinocchio jumped up in a rage, and snatching a wooden hammer from the bench he threw it at the Talking Cricket.

Perhaps he never meant to hit him; but unfortunately it struck him exactly on the head, so that the poor Cricket had scarcely breath to cry Cri-cri-cri, and then he remained dried up and flattened against the wall.

That happens fairly early, and from then on it's the ghost of the Talking Cricket who guides Pinocchio.
[two men] And becoming more and more angry, from words they came to blows, and flying at each other they bit, and fought, and scratched manfully.

Lol… manfully.

I'm also considering Italian as a fourth language when i finish the Latin textbook. It's probably that or Russian. Perhaps a 'fourth language' is the wrong way to put it; 'third and a half,' maybe. I don't plan on doing Latin all the way. Maybe i'll do something with languages in college. Of course, that's then competing with Music Education and English Composition. Oh dear. I wouldn't like to do a double major if possible. There's always minor.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Oh, oh, oh!

This hat has gotta be mine! Ohhhhh…

Picture for everlastingness! It's got a flower on the left side, and the thingy round it dangles off the back, and it comes with a hatbox, and it's such a pretty style, and and and IT'S AN ORANGE HAT! *gasp* It's vintage too!

*sniff* Fifty dollars… i'd even take this if it weren't vintage… and didn't come with a box… or a flower… *sniffsniff*

If i could convince five friends to give me ten dollars each, or ten friends to give me five dollars each, or eight friends to give me six dollars and twenty-five cents each, or nine friends to give me approximately five dollars and fifty-six cents each, or two friends to give me twenty-five dollars each, or four friends to give me twelve dollars and fifty cents each, or seven friends to give me approximately seven dollars and fourteen cents each, or three friends to give me approximately sixteen dollars and sixty-seven cents each, or six friends to give me approximately eight dollars and thirty-three cents each, or one friend to give me fifty dollars, i could pay the shipping and handling! Right. *starts looking for seven friends with approximately seven dollars and fourteen cents each to spare*

Rambling on

Tag. It's the thingy where i put my ipod on shuffle, listen to the songs, and write "whatever comes to me" ten times.

  1. whatever comes to me
  2. whatever comes to me
  3. whatever comes to me
  4. whatever comes to me
  5. whatever comes to me
  6. whatever comes to me
  7. whatever comes to me
  8. whatever comes to me
  9. whatever comes to me
  10. whatever comes to me
That done:

  1. Bless the Broken Road by Rascal Flatts: I was sitting in the back of the car, nose buried in a book, waiting for Mom to come out of the supermarket with emergency milk and whatever. Naomi and Nat were sitting ahead of me, listening to the radio, which was much too loud. I was already hot and tired. I plugged my ears and ignored it.
  2. Taking Tea in Dreamland by Chris Vrenna: The nightmare where i'm walking down a long dark hallway with worms under my bare feet. The worms get angry and rise up in a wave. They engulf me, and i wake up.
  3. Those Dinosaur Blues by Michael Ford: Really bored. Sit on top of the doghouse and sing "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me," at the top of my voice. In-key.
  4. All You Need is Love by The Beatles: A pencil i had once. Orange and pink swirlies, with hearts and smileys and steering wheels on it.
  5. The Phantom of the Opera (Techno Remix): Anna hitting me.
  6. The Twilight Zone Theme by Marius Constant: Staying up late with all siblings, watching creepy old shows, like the one where a guy has a watch that stops time, and uses it a bunch (of course), until time's stopped and it breaks. Stay awake long that night, but no nightmares.
  7. To the Pirates' Cave by Klaus Badelt: It actually just reminds me of the movie, sitting on popcorn, and being cold from that dumm air conditioning.
  8. Stay Home by Self: The day I was home along and put on the music and ran around the house like an idiot while cleaning. Took several moments to *gasp* dance like an idiot.
  9. Madame Guillotine by Ensamble: The book i'll write someday. Organized cruel cold government. Red-blood-stained fingers.
  10. Come with Me by Sara Ramirez and Tim C…: Happy sparkly mermaids.
I really love the soundtrack to The Scarlet Pimpernel; Madame Guillotine, for instance:

I know the gutter and I know the stink of the street
Kicked like a dog, I have spat out the bile of defeat
All you beauties who towered above me
You who gave me the smack of your rod
Now I give you the gutter
I give you the judgment of God!

Vengeance victorious
These are the glorious days
Women of Paris, come gather your bloody bouquets!
Now gaze on our goddess of justice
With her shimmering, glimmering blade
As she kisses these traitors she sings them a last serenade

Sing, swing
Savor the sting
As she severs you, Madame Guillotine
Slice, come paradise
You'll be smitten with Madame Guillotine

The world may be ugly, but each man must do what he must
Give in pretty dear, in a year you will be pretty dust
Now come let our lady possess you
In her breathtaking, hair-raising bed
She will tingle your spine
As she captures your heart and your head

Sing, swing
Savor the sting
As she severs you, Madame Guillotine
Slice, come paradise
Our Delilah will shave you razor clean

God, when did man lose his reason?
Save us, my God, if you're there
God, can you not feel the terror like a fire in the air?

Flash, slash! Glisten and gash!
She will ravish you, Madame Guillotine
Split, Madame just bit
Give her more to bite, she's a hungry queen
Sing, savor the sting
As she severs you, Madame Guillotine
Slice, come paradise
Hail her Majesty!
Madame Guillotine!

It's just so powerful, and the music is great too. I only ever saw the musical once, at Bethel, but i loved it right then and there, though it might've been the dresses. And French people die in it.

As a sadder one, here's When I Look at You:

When I look at you, she is touching me
I would reach for her, but who can hold a memory?
And love isn't everything
That moonlight on the bed will melt away, someday
Oh, you were once that someone
Who I followed like a star
Then suddenly you changed,
And now I don't know who you are
Or could it be that I never really knew you from the start?
Did I create a dream?
Was she a fantasy?

I miss her so, when I look at you

Sung by Douglas Sills. Christine Andreas also sings it, and longer, too, i think, but i like the way he sings it better.

I'm probably going too long again.

Does anybody have tickets to The Scarlet Pimpernel? That would be so cool.

I don't know how many people i'm supposed to tag. I'm lazy. Free tags for everybody!

Wednesday, January 16, 2008


September! Baby! Sita's a sister! Awwwwww!!!

Friday, January 11, 2008


What is that? A book review?? No, couldn't be… i'll just… mention a bit of literature…

I really, really liked the book Coraline by Niel Gaiman. Read it. It's a pretty fast read, not that long a book. It's kinda creepy, but… yeah, for most of you, don't read this right before bed. However, it's a really really cool book. Read it! I got it a arnes & Noble in the exasperating 'Teen' section last Tuesday, though it's been more often described to me as a children's book. It's about a young girl named Coraline (NOT Caroline, Coraline) who just moved into a new apartment…

I've already read Stardust by the same author. And watched the movie. Nathaniel had a witty review on his blog on the movie. And at the end of my copy of Stardust was a short story by N. G. entitled: October in the chair, from a collection of short stories (Fragile Things) that Nat and i bought together the same time as Coraline. And then i read the first story - an extremely Holmes-ish one, A Study in Emerald. I think i like Coraline the best, though it's been a bit since i've read Stardust.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Monday, January 07, 2008

a thousand frogs

It's raining. Really raining. The drops of water positively fling themselves suicidally at the ground and whatever happens to be in the way. Which is why, of course, Nathaniel and i decided to walk a bit. Outside. Barefoot. Eating bananas.

First we went in the front, where there are more puddles, but then we went in back, with more grass, and i stood dramatically looking up and "embracing the sky" as i've heard it called. Nathaniel pointed out that we could be at the end of a movie, so we shouted end-of-movie types of things, such as "I'm free!" "I've escaped prison!" "This is a metaphor for rebirth!" "The king is dead!" "I found my best friend!" and "I killed them all!"

And, of course, the back door was locked. We took different routes back to the front. I took the east side, closer to the alley. It goes under a tree, and the wet leaves felt like stepping on the guts of a thousand frogs, to be poetic.

Powerful wet stuff, that water, y'know? Powerful wet.

Sunday, January 06, 2008

Growing pains


  1. an infant or very young child.
  2. a newborn or very young animal.
  3. the youngest member of a family, group, etc.
  4. an immature or childish person.
  5. a human fetus.
  6. Informal. (a. Sometimes Disparaging and Offensive, a girl or woman, esp. an attractive one. b. a person of whom one is deeply fond; sweetheart. c. (sometimes initial capital letter) an affectionate or familiar address (sometimes offensive when used to strangers, casual acquaintances, subordinates, etc., esp. by a male to a female). d. a man or boy; chap; fellow: He's a tough baby to have to deal with. e. an invention, creation, project, or the like that requires one's special attention or expertise or of which one is especially proud. f. an object; thing: Is that car there your baby?)
Really the only one that applies to me is #3. I'm not terribly young, i'm not an animal, i'm not immature or childish (yes i'm silly, but that's in my free time: when i work, i work, when i worship, i worship, and when i play, i play), i'm born, and nobody actually calls me baby (and i like it that way).

  1. Informal. a child or young person.
  2. (used as a familiar form of address.)
  3. a young goat.
  4. leather made from the skin of a kid or goat, used in making shoes and gloves.
  5. a glove made from this leather.
Or as an adjective, Informal, younger, his kid sister.

I'm only the adjective one. I'm not a child anymore. Well, in some senses of the word.


  1. a person between birth and full growth; a boy or girl: books for children.
  2. a son or daughter: All my children are married.
  3. a baby or infant.
  4. a human fetus.
  5. a childish person: He's such a child about money.
  6. a descendant: a child of an ancient breed.
  7. any person or thing regarded as the product or result of particular agencies, influences, etc.: Abstract art is a child of the 20th century.
  8. a person regarded as conditioned or marked by a given circumstance, situation, etc.: a child of poverty; a child of famine.
  9. British Dialect Archaic. a female infant.
  10. Achaic. CHILDE. (a youth of noble birth)
That one i guess is a little better. I am "all grown up" in the physical sense. Perhaps a half inch or so left, but that's it. I'm a daughter, true. But i'm not a baby or infant, once again: i'm born, i'm not childish. I suppose i am a descendant. I'm not sure about #7. I can't think of any big thing that identifies me like poverty or famine. I'm still not an infant. And not so much the last one.

I'm sure being the oldest or the middle sibling is very hard, but so is being the last one. I have to watch everybody else grow up, and then i'm not allowed to for another couple years. If i'm being immature then i get a glare and a sigh, and i feel horrible and try to act like i'm supposed to, like whoever it is i'm with are acting. But then i'm left behind when it comes to age, because i just can't change that. It doesn't help that i'm tall; then i'm always stuck with people my height but older, or my age but shorter. Also it makes most activities harder. Long legs aren't good for much if you don't want to run. I've grown to be more mature than the average [my age]-year-old. I don't think i've ever been seriously told to act my age. I watch all my friends and family go and get jobs and go to college and drive and get married, and i'm stuck back here, seemingly the same as ever. I don't like feeling like the stupid one, like i wasn't good enough to be in this piano book, or nobody trusts me to work with groceries or ham. And people think i'm so lucky, the "responsibility-free one." I've never gotten to tell people what to do, either.

(these, by the way, are the sort of thoughts that go through my mind in the middle of the night.)

Another dumb thing is i'm never the best. At anything. If i'm good at it, a sibling or a friend is better, or even just has had more experience. What do i do? I read: Mostly Amanda and Nat and M have that covered. I write: There's Nat and M. I sing: Amanda. I play the piano: Amanda, Nat, Anna. I play the organ: Amanda, Anna. I'm learning German: Amanda. Jujutsu: Nat. I'm a student: It feels like everybody works harder than me in that respect. I've been told what a good student Naomi was, even when she hated the subject. I've heard the story about Naomi handing in a paper she really didn't like to write, that got an A only because the teacher couldn't fault it.

So an answer at this point is to work harder and catch up. Yeah, yeah. I've been trying ever since i can remember. It's not working.

Another one is to go into some hobby or school subject that nobody i knows is doing; the problem with that is that i'm just interested in the picked-over activity. I already know probably what i'm going to major in: Music Education or English Composition. I don't think there's such a thing as ground-breaking piano-teaching. And i really can't write the ground-breaking novel that will surpass all others. I'll write for a day, and think, Hey, i've done good work today. Maybe someday i will be one of the best. Then i talk to certain other people (some of whom happen to read my blog), and they wrote three times as much today, and it makes mine look like heirlooms (see previous post).

I'm not posting this for sympathy, this is just how i feel. So please, please don't call me kid, or child, or some synonym.

EDITS: Suffice it to say i am a teen.

I really am a baby in another respect: a crybaby. If you say you've never seen me cry, that's good. I am getting better. But it still feels like the slightest thing sets me off.

Thursday, January 03, 2008


I don't really celebrate Valentine's Day. I usually wear pink. (but maybe it's 'cuz it makes me look so perty. =P) But it certainly won't be the same this year since it falls in Lent. Seeing Valentine's Day merchandise at Target \tar-DJAY\ today didn't lift my mood about commercial America. However, i did buy one thing, nine dollars at that: a fluffy alligator. With a heart in its mouth. Because love is an alligator eating your heart. There was also a place mat with a picture of the alligator, and 'Love' in curly script. So that's it's name: LOVE, short for Larry Of Varying Excellence.

Wikipedia deleted my article about Ducky-Wucky. "Article about subject that does not assert significance." *sigh*