Went to see "Wolves in the Walls" today, a new production that was on at the Lyric Theatre in Hammersmith. It was one of the most enjoyable experiences I've had, even when they had to stop the show because of techincal difficulties. The songs were as haunting as they should have been, the cast brilliant, especially Frances Thorburn who plays Lucy, the protagonist, and the wolves, who were funny, and a little scary. The children in the audience loved it, the old couple next to me loved it, and I left feeling more awe than I had in a while (and wanting to talk with a Scottish accent).

Although I do want to know what is it with Dave McKean and Neil Gaiman and girls who draw on walls, since the same thing happened in Mirrormask. It's as if Neil as two modes: adult novels, which deal with men protagonists, and children's book/ya which are about girls (Coraline, Wolves in the Walls, and Mirrormask).

NatWest lost my last paycheck. Well, not exactly lost, but it was never cashed by them, and they don't know what happened to it. Fine. However, they fail to realize that this is not an little error, but a big mistake on their part, considering it's not a good thing to find out that one's budget is all out of whack because the money was never put into the checking account (and this was 200 GBP).

Grrrr.

Is anyone else NOT surprised by how the plagirism contriversy of some chick lit book is spurring on book sales?

Well, duh. Didn't we see the same thing with A Million Little Pieces, after it came out that the author lied in his memoir?

(and now I'm trying to figure out a way to have a minor contriversy when my book ever gets published).

Putting my close reading skills to work

::shhhhh::

I'm using one of my flatmate's computers. Blogger's in portugues....

weird.




I have NEVER encountered such a spineless person. Okay, not spineless per se (actually, maybe spineless?), but the game of meeting ping pong is getting out of hand. I keep asking for feedback, and I get a whatever response. For instance

I Think throwing darts at the dart board will be the best method. However,
if you don't want me to see your photos or get a drink we don't have to meet,
but that is your call.

As I'm not being fair, let me put this into some context, before I had asked if he had really wanted to bother since he wasn't being very helpful with the whole planning, and I was going to have throw out dates without knowing his schedule.

I can read it two ways: the first being a negative response, and the second being a little note of encouragement.It's the "or" that makes me read more than I probably should, because the original invitation was simply look at photos. Now, not only is it "see your photos and get a drink"but "see your photos or get a drink."

So, it's not exactly "he's just not that into you" but it's not exactly ''he's not into you at all'.

So, I finally responded to the american boy's request to reschedule our meet up that was suppose to happen at BUNAC's pub meet this Wednesday. My sources (all right, my sis and my best friend) have assured me that his request to reschedule is a signal that our fancy is actually interested, otherwise he wouldn't have taken the time, or something like that.

I guess that I shall see what tomorrow holds, eh? Oh, I can barely wait for the stage of compulsivly checking the e-mail for a response to begin. There must be a point to such pathetic behaviour, but I can't fathom it, except as eternal optimism. Proves my point about optimism, and how it's really a bad, bad thing that only ends in heart break.


My mom wants me to sign up for this specific internet dating cite when I get home. I really do think that she's frightended that I'm going to end up an old maid or something.

Do we still have old maids?

Wow, I really feel as if I'm playing a game of ping pong.

So, I e-mailed the guy i liked from the trip asking if he were going to one of the convienently scheduled meet-ups the abroad programme offers. He replied that he wasn't intending to, but would go if I were going. Then, a few hours after the e-mail, he writes back saying that he had already made plans for that night, and would I like to reschedule.

Am I mad to read more into this? What exactly are the signs and portents here trying to tell me? Because suddenly I'm asked to find a place to meet up that will not be date-like, but has the potential to be one. Okay, alcohol will be invovled, because social lubricants are good. That much I've learned from this country.

Advice? Anyone? Please?

I have chutzpuh!

well, just a little.

now, it's wait, wait, wait.

Why do I feel as if I'm spending the more interesting part of my life off stage, and flipping coins while all the main characters are doing something? Is this why we're attracted to Romantic Comedies, because they promise that the equation will be solved. That boy and girl will meet, they will fall apart, but in the end will wind up back together in a happy monotonus relationship? This is worse than religion, this is just false!

Meanderings

Another weekend almost over, and I sitting back wondering what I've accomplished. Does this happen to other people? I used to do this in school all the time when I really did have work to do over the weekend, and had actually accomplished something (such as reading half the articles assigned for me, or finishing a problem set), and I would still feel as if I've done nothing. Maybe it was because yesterday I didn't go anywhere besides Hyde Park, and yet I updated the blog, and managed to get more than halfway through Thomas Friedman's The World Is Flat in under eight hours. So, why do I feel like such a failure?

Probably the same reason why I keep waiting for people to e-mail me. I swear last week was summer camp all over again, complete with the beginnings of romance and everything. Oh, wait, I never did blog about the Harry Potter trip.

Oops, now why did I forget about that?

Long story short, I went on a tour of England based around the Harry Potter films as an excuse for seeing England. The best way to do that sort of trip, because it encourages people to be zany without being fanatic about the source material. Although the trip was arranged through BUNAC, we went through Carry On Tours, with their two awesome tour guides, Emma and Rick. If you want a special (in the short bus way) view of England, try them. You won't be bored. It was four days of Harry Potterness, drinking, and the knowledge that if, in a large crowd of people, someone was doing something stupid, that someone was a member of our group. We played quidditch, did three legged races, went to a gay bar in York, ate very good Indian food, played Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest, and even saw a cave. I had lots of fun, but didn't develop my pictures yet. And on Monday, we all returned back to London, kind of happy and kind of sad, and planning on going to the next pub meet that BUNAC offered.

At least no one promised that they would write, although they kind of did. I'm waiting for more pictures to show up, and wondering if I should pester this boy who spent most of the weekend taking the mickey out of me. To be fair, I was doing the same to him.

The picture above is not by me, but by Dani, one of the girls from the trip. It is of the Cloisters of Gloucster Cathedral.

I am a Fury

It's been three months and I've been more or less calm. Well, today, the passive-aggressive girl everyone has come to know and love become far less passive and just more aggressive with matters involving the kitchen and cleaning.

See, I live with seven other people. Really it's eight, but the eighth doesn't count since she's a girlfriend and DOESN'T PAY RENT (what is it with this place and sponges?). When you live with seven other people you have to make allowences, like the occasional person sleeping in the living room when you want to watch the weather in the morning, or the random party when you need space and silence. Logically another concession would be cleanliness: if there are nine people living in a small space, then it's going to be messy. Now, there's everyday messy, and then there's the lazy messy which is days of stuff wallowing in the kitchen. Guess which one is my problem, the later one.

Right.

I yelled at the Boyfriend today (not my boyfriend, but the roommate who's girlfriend is crashing with us) about just leaving his plate in the living room and the sauce pan on the stovetop while he went out for an hour. See, this might be acceptable behaviour if he wasn't a repeat offender, or if there were a reason for leaving the pan out -- either it was soaking or it was so hot that cleaning it would have damaged the pan. Neither case applied. It was simply that he made food and then decided that cleaning could be done hours later.

Again, this would work if we didn't live with a house full of people. But, as stated above, we do. As such, that means laziness can not be tolerated. Because if everyone acted as he did, you wouldn't be able to see the floor.

(Did I mention that he and his girlfriend will make dinner at 10:30 at night and then just leave all the dishes in the sink for the next day? They're Spanish, hence the eating late. But it's unpleasant for the rest of us who might want to make breakfast, or even sit down.)

Alas, I do not live with the most considerate bunch of people. Don't even get me on the smoking (would you mind asking me if I mind if you light up if you come in and I'm already sitting there reading, s'il vous plait?)

Words, words, words

And being able to tell a hawk from a handsaw, when the wind is north by northwest.

Stephen Colbert on Shakespeare, or using the Bard to reform Juvenile Deliquents.

(and I love Massachusetts)

R-E-C-Y-C-L-E recycle! C-O-N-S-E-R-V-E conserve!

I love Earth Day. Fundementally, I should be annoyed by it, because the concept of having one day set aside for being aware of our enviroment implies that for the other 364 days it's okay to keep status quo. The again, I'm part of the group that says "Make Everyday Earth Day," still don't really understand why everyone doesn't just recycle their pop cans (and why there isn't a 5 cent deposit in every state), and can't forgive mining companies for destroying land and then bailing out of their commintment to clean up their mess, leaving the burdan upon the shoulders of tax payers (so THAT's what the trickle down theory is all about).

And now, we're on the verge of one of the worst enviromental crisises every. Ah, global warming, which only now does the Bush Administration seem to recognize ever so slightly (and only because of the economic problems of relying to heavily upon foreign oil).

Right now in Britain, there's talk of one of the worst droughts since the last century lasting for two years of so. Drought, in England, where it rains all the time? Isn't that a little strange (as strange as the increase of strong hurricans to hit the Gulf coast perhaps?). At least now people are beginning to understand that Global Warming doesn't neccesarily mean warmer weather, but that an increase in the overall temperature will affect weather patterns, resulting in climate changes (long term effects) such as a shift in rainfall patterns so that areas that are used to a temperate climate suffer from droughts.

You know, now might be a good time to write to some of your Representatives about enviromental issues. Then again, everyday is a good day for that. It is painfully easy, most of their websites even have e-mail forms (and some phone numbers to allow you to bug staffers).


New Episodes of Captain Planet
Where do I get this channel?

Second: they show reruns of Captain Planet on the Cartoon Network?

Third thought: Ted Turner was responsible for both Captain Planet, and Earth Matters (one of my favorite shows on CNN -- see told you I was a dork).

I'm going to try and get the theme song out of my head now, thank you.

Comedy = Two dislike objects put together, e.g, President Bush and the song "Imagine". This is a genius video of clever editing, both sound and image. Just watch.

Another good one is "Forest in the Winter" which is very, very weird, disturbing and because of all that, good.

And just to let you know where I'm getting all of this from: Salon.com's Video Dog, one of my new favourite pages.

Having spent the past week dealing with a throat that went beyond sore to causing serious pain and the inability to swallow, it is nice to be able to eat solid food again. My throat still hurts, but it's a distant feeling compared to Thursday (which was a everytime I planned on swallowing I needed to squeeze something). But there's little point in writing this above paragraph, is there. Pain, like all emotions, is indescribable. However, unlike saying I was so happy, which is usually enough to convey the feeling I wanted because for most people there are not degrees of happiness. Or rather, there are degrees of happiness, just as there are degrees of sadness, but we have words to convey these sentiments. If I wanted express that my happiness was of the calm sort, I could say that I was content. Or, if I had a very intense happy experience, it would be rapturous.

Language is at fault here. There is only one word to describe any sensation from hurt: pain. If I bang my knee against the table, I will feel a slight pain. If the act of swallowing creates a sharp sensation, almost like my throat being crushed between a pair of gears, well then, I obviously feel pain. If a guy I like doesn't call me, I get a pain in my stomach. Do we see a problem here? Pain is used to describe too many things of different degrees with out being a satisfactory description. Do I really want to compare my reaction to a bad movie to the feeling of slamming a finger in a car door? Yet, I will still say "watching that movie was painful" and "my finger feels so painful," and not wonder if I elevate movies to an unrealistic position of importance, or belittle bodily harm by my words.

Things to ponder indeed.