Goodbye.

One of my heroes, Bill Walsh, The Genius, died today. When I was little and watched the SanFrancisco 49ers, I always thought he was teh super awesomeness. An amazing coach and person.

And another one of my heroes died as well. Michelangelo Antonioni. I love L'Avventura. It's one of the most beautiful films. He was an incredible director.

Also gone is Ingmar Bergman. Another director of great talent. Genius. A wonderful story teller.

And last, but not least, Tom Snyder is gone. So many interesting and pioneering people died yesterday. It's just terribly sad.

TtutwIcIw

Feeling sick and sickish the last few days.
Weekend spent at a wedding.
How many languages, I wonder, use "spent" in relation to time?
For that matter, what about making time and buying time?
I dream a lot of people getting shot.
Of rhyming couplets and a world that's not.
I bought a small stuffed owl while at WinCo.
I've named him Purdue.
Bad habit = buying books when sad.
Sleeping in my own bed tonight will be nice.
Missed the blue glow of my binary clock.
I don't like commercials that have children conversing with cereal or cereal-associated characters such as Tony the Tiger or Toucan Sam.

Muggle Schtuff

I finished reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows earlier this evening. Not wishing to spoil anything for what I'm sure is a vast numbers of readers of my blog (hyuk hyuk--who says self-deprecation is no fun?), I shall not give away what things we already know. No, I'm not speaking in the royal we there. I mean everyone, including those who haven't read the book. I enjoyed it. Lots of predictable, but a few surprises, both pleasant and otherwise. A cop out here, a bit of magic there. Like many people I'm sure, I feel as though an era has come to a close. Besides the longevity of Harry Potter being in question, books themselves will become more and more uncommon. It's so rare for me to get really excited about books. Of course, I feel my normal giddy self at the thought of all the wonderful things I haven't read yet that are waiting for me; still, it's hard to feel the excitement of one's childhood where books are concerned. It was fun to see so many people celebrating a book last night. It's one of those sights you don't really have the chance to enjoy often.

Play money millionaire

Ron Mexico's shoe is gonna get buried.
The mob + basketball = piles of shaved points.
Next week I have a poetry midterm. Worry.
Reading somewhat slowly. Don't want it to end.
I can't believe I'm turning 25 this year.
I honestly never thought I'd ever be this old.
Not sure why. It just never really occurred to me.
As such, I feel I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.
Of course, I can always blog.
And, as Jake says, "There are other worlds than these."
No doubt some of those worlds have punch and pie.
Ella's birthday was fun. She's so smart. Proud auntie.
It's almost 5 am. I'm not tired. Books to read.
I got some Brautigan in the mail today.
Yesterday, I got Women Artists, Women Exiles: Miss Grief and other stories.
Summer is the time for books. And worries. And travel. And theses.
Would you rather be a tell box or a calling station?
The boat is low, but it's not sinking. Twos full.

Happy Harry Potter Day!

It's 1:21 am. I am home, in my jammies, Mt. Dew close at hand, and ready to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Eeek. Excitement! No time for blogging. Time to read. :)

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday to my favorite niece, Ella Grace! She's turning three today, so I feel that I can safely post on a blog (considering she only knows letters and cannot quite read yet) that she is going to receive a bubble mower and a subscription to High Five, the Highlights magazine for 2-6 year olds filled each month with 40 pages of stories, puzzles, and fun that encourages learning and the development of curiosity about this super silly world in which we live. We'll be heading up to McMinnville later. It's a lovely cloudy day. Perfect for a drive.

Shuffle up and deal

I'm watching the final table of the World Series of Poker Main Event. I missed the first five hours because I was at work. Four people were eliminated then, and I missed Yang's praying that the miracles and power of God be shown by him winning pots. It was a nice shout out to me, but perhaps needless to say, I don't operate that way. You can't just pray for winning poker hands. Tsk tsk. Foolish mortals. A bad beat for the glory of God? Please, Mr. Yang. Don't make me smite you. "Ask yourself: why do you seek the cup of Christ? Is it for his glory or yours?"

I just hit a moth with a flighy swatter. I cannot find it now. I heard the thunk of swatter on moth but saw no fall, nor have I found a body. The blankets on the couch have been shaken out. Hippos overturned. I've gone over every inch of the couch with my book light. No moth. As such, I have decided that I ought to name the moth, so when next we meet, I can greet it in a polite manner. "Mothra" is too obvious. I don't even like butterflies.

There was rain today. The cuffs of my far-too-long jeans got wet and muddy, dragging as I walked. It was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

There's a biography of Edith Wharton on its way to zee library from another library. I'm excited about it.

I

...don't know what to do after getting my livestock degree. B.A.aaa
...can't decide if I want to get a masters, knowing full well I've no notion of what I want to be "when I grow up."
...can't even decide if I want to eat a bowl of cereal right now.
...know just how fallible I really am.
...enjoy naming things.
...haven't succeeded in getting pizza-flavored Soup at Hand back on shelves across America.
...was always kind of weird.
...can't see at all now that the rain is gone.
...should remember to use my inhaler as prescribed.
...still can't so much as pick up a small remote using The Force^TM.
...don't envy anesthesiologists.
...wish I could visit the Nixon Library. They just got new stuff.
...decided to eat cereal after all.
...am still a sucker for battles between good and evil.
...think I shall go to bed.

Oceanography and you

Coccolithophores are plants that make calcareous shells.
Foraminifera are animals that make calcareous shells.
Diatoms are plants that make siliceous shells.
Radiolaria are animals that make siliceous shells.
Humans are animals that make bombshells.

Fry Day

I slept until noon today. Nine hours of sleep. It was wonderful. The dreams, not so good. I hate dreams that are hard to shake, but very much ought to be shaken, shooken, sharked. Throughout the dream, I kept singing Morrissey's "First of the Gang to Die" ("Hector was the first of the gang with a gun in his hand, and the first to do time, the first of the gang to die"), and sometimes I would sing "I Have Forgiven Jesus" ("Why did you stick me in self-deprecating bones and skin? Do you hate me?"), and sometimes "Girl Least Likely To" ("She lives for the written word, and people come second or possibly third"). My subconcious has absolutely no subtlety. When the house started to get hot toward noon, I dreamed that I was looking for my super steroidal inhaler (aka Barry Bonds! or * inhaler), which, no doubt, I ought to use right now because little wheezes are erupting from slightly-pained lungs and I must disrupt this rampant use of parenthesis.

Bathymetric features, spreading sea floors, ocean surfaces, and the like are not my cup of tea. They are not my cup of coffee either, or milk, or water, or ruby red grapefruit juice. I just did amazingly awful on the my last oceanography lab. The older I get, the less I care about hoops to jump through and busy work. Neverthless, I should have done better. At least they drop the worst one. I think. Maybe.

I wrote the most inane poem yesterday for poetry class. It was an hour before it was due, and I enlisted Loradona and Margo to help. It's called "Pyrrhic Victory," and it is about Dumbledore's death. Heartwrenching!

The World's Fair (or...Mars and other worlds!)

I feel like wilted lettuce.

I'm watching Meet Me in St. Louis. Sometimes random things pop up when I don't pay attention to the Netflix list for a while. That's right. Apathy bought me Judy Garland. Poor Judy Garland. And that Tootie kid was freaky. She was five years old, fascinated with death, decapitated the snowmen in the yard, and wanted a hunting knife for Christmas (to do Marj^god only knows what with). "Right here in St. Louis!" Weird movie. Need to write I have completed writing a few more lines of iambic and trochaic pentameter. Then I still need to write a po-em. Then I need to sleep. Or rather, I want to sleep. Very much want to.

Last night, I saw Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. There were things which were disappointing and things which were amusing. I feel as if I need to go see it again before I pass judgment. Did feel a little bit rushed and convoluted, with so many fun little side stories missing that I think it will require some getting used to on my part. It's difficult to cram so much book into two hours and ten minutes of movie.

"Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees." -Victor Hugo

In mysterious ways

I saw Transformers again yesterday. More importantly, on the way there, I saw a llama in a car, it's head and neck sticking out the window. Oregon is fun like that. A chicken in every pot, a llama in every car.

It's supposed to be 102 degrees tomorrow. It's just not right. I live here for the rain. The clouds. The cold.

Click me! Click me! Descendents of Hemingway's six-toed cat are allowed to stay in their historic home. How precious. I want a descendent of Hemingway's cat. I wonder if they would notice if one of these cats just kind of...went to live in Oregon. I would name it Whiskey.

In less than 24 hours, I shall be watching Harry Potter.

I'm sorry, I don't speak Velociraptor

I've spent the day doing next to nothing. Live Earth has been on tv all day, so at least there's background noise for my laying around reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for the umpteenth time. I have started reading a crop and soil science thesis (for worksie) which threatens to cause me to eat great quantities of ice cream due to the fact that I have no idea what many of these abbreviations, symbols, and explanations mean. Inadequacy can only be met head-on with Dove miniature ice cream bars. Thank Me^god for Latin and Greek morphemes. The title of this post is how I shall respond to all requests (or orders) for me to help with theses in the future. I'm sorry, I don't speak Velociraptor. Perhaps someone else could take a look?

Spent the evening drinking and playing Trivial Pursuit. I won. Margo came over and we picked out My Little Ponies to save from the 50 or so going on eBay. She took "Parasol." I kept "Sugarberry," which should really be named "Strawberry," but which is now called "Gwen Stefani." She ain't no holla back pony. Don't speak. It's her life. With the Harajuku girls. For the love of Me^god, why did they have to rhyme "Martin Luther" with "upgrade computer?" Why? For some things...there are no easy answers. In fact, for some things, there are no answers at all.

"All of us have a place in history. Mine is clouds." -Richard Brautigan