Crafty crafty!

I'm testing out this email post thing. Let's see if it works.

Here's some stuff I've made lately, as worn by my long-suffering
model/muse, Iphigenia:

Cookies n' chemo

Since my mother now reads this blog, I feel obligated to inform her that her worst fears about my going away to college have finally come true: Yes, I did in fact eat cookies for dinner tonight. They were delicious, if slightly cakey. I need to learn not to second-guess the recipe. Just because the dough seems too goopy does not mean that more flour is needed.

Food that I need to make in the next few days so that today's groceries will not go to waste:
-Pumpkin Pie
-Zucchini Bread
-Spaghetti Squash
-Pad Thai
-Something With Quite A Lot Of Spinach In It

My friend and as-of-this-afternoon roommate Sonnet is going in on Friday to get a malignant tumor removed from her ovary. It's interesting how her response has informed my own. It wasn't until today when somebody said "Holy shit, [Sonnet], you have cancer!" that it really occurred to me how serious it really is. Because this whole time her attitude has been "Well, it's in a really early stage, and after the surgery I'm just going to need a couple rounds of chemo, and it will be fine," it never occurred to me that the really important words in that sentence are not just and a couple and early, they're surgery and chemo. Or maybe it actually is the other way around; it just never occurs to us to think of it that way. Anyway, we're just assuming everything's going to be ok. And I think it will. But a couple of prayers couldn't hurt.

Geekery

So I was going to attempt to keep my crazy geeky side off of this blog, but I figure I should embrace that side of myself and share it with the world. So, here are some upcoming movies I've gotten really excited about lately...

Fantastic 4: To paraphrase my friend Lex, cheese potential is dangerously high. Just the taglines are enough to make me cringe, but if it doesn't take itself too seriously the movie could be... uh... not-sucky? Maybe? But Jessica Alba is very un-hooker-like, so suck on that, John Byrne.

Sin City: This was one of the first graphic novels I ever read, and I can't wait to see what they do with it. The art is the most interesting part of the book, and it looks like they're staying really true to the original material. The fact that Frank Miller is directing a segment, and has been involved with the whole creative process is a confidence booster. And as much as I'm not really a Tarantino fan, this movie really is his style, so it's probably cool that he's doing a segment. (Yes, Jessica Alba does look like a hooker in this one, but that's because SHE PLAYS A HOOKER. Stripper. Whatever. Byrne's still an idiot.)

Batman Begins: Eeeeee. After the embarassment that was the last few movies in the franchise, this one had better be super awesome. It should be more character-driven, obviously, since it's an origin story, and this is of the good. Batman's such a fascinating character, and I really hope they explore his darkness and disturbing morality issues (Yeah, yeah, I just read DKR again, so I'm sort of stuck on it. My point stands.) rather than falling back on silly quips (as much as I love Batman: The Movie) and rubber nipples (no, I did not love Batman and Robin, except in that "Oh god, it's so horrible I don't know whether to laugh or gouge out my eyes!" sort of way). Plus, killer cast. This has my highest expectation of the three.

There's of course other stuff, like Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Revenge of the Sith (aka Star Wars episode 3), Hitchhiker's Guide, and Chronicles of Narnia, but I'll get to those at a later date. Maybe.

Ok, I think I've gotten all of my fangirling out of my system. Oh, wait, not quite. I think I'm going to go to the Seattle Comic Con on Feb 5th with my friend Raj, but we're always open to more company. So let me know if you're interested.

Four more years, sadly.

Tonight Crosby is driving to DC to protest the inauguration. I have a couple of other friends who are going, too.
It makes me really sad that I'm not going to be there. Instead I'll be in class, learning about things that are important and that I'm interested in, working toward a degree which I will then use on my quest to better the world, but I won't be making a difference tomorrow. I won't even be participating in the campus-wide walkout, because my class doesn't start until it's over.
There are so many horrible things going on in the world, and I feel like I should be taking an active role in ending them. I'm going to school, and of course that's important, but since I don't know what I want to do, I feel like I'm not really working toward my "save the world" goal. I feel like maybe I could be doing more important things, helping make more immediate changes, rather than saying I'll do it when I'm done with school. I want to go be a part of something. But I'm not really sure how to do that.
I'm not sure why I'm so set on protesting, anyway. Last spring my mom came down to visit me, and we went to a march against the war. We talked about how frustrating it is that her mom protested the same things 50 years ago that she protested 25 years ago that I'm protesting today. And it is frustrating. It's unbelieveable that our leaders can't understand something as simple as "STOP KILLING PEOPLE. NO REALLY. YOU CAN DO THIS."
Ok, I'll be honest. I've been in dozens of protests. Really I just want to get arrested. Aunt A and I had this plan when the war first started, to get arrested together (actually, it was the whole family, but mostly us). We wanted it on record. We never got around to it (mostly because it's impossible to get arrested for protesting in this town, unless you start beating people to death with their own yardsigns, which sort of defeats the purpose of nonviolence). Soon.

No other darky knows her/No one only me

Today as I was walking through our Campus Activities Building, I saw a crazy old guy with a guitar, and for some reason told him he should come to the open mic tonight. Sadly he had an animal rights meeting to attend at the same time, but we ended up having a bizarre mostly one-sided conversation about how college is too expensive, and how "The Yellow Rose of Texas" is about a light-skinned African American woman. He graced me with a few bars of the original lyrics, which are hilariously offensive, and then told me that the point of sophomore year is to "make it" with lots of football players. I thanked him for his advice and wished him well. It was easily the most surreal experience I've had in at least a week.

Why are you you?

I went to the local UU fellowship this morning to light a candle for Joe. I sat in the back and listened, and it was just like in Anchorage except I didn't know anyone, so it was weird. But they have the same hymnals and the same opening song, and the same "hmm" that everyone always murmurs when something meaningful is said, so it was sort of comforting. Maybe next week I'll have a nametag. Maybe then I'll feel at home.

Death. Again.

I saw Joe a week ago. No, two. No, the night before Christmas. Maybe not. I don't know. Not very long ago. He was wearing his kilt. People would always say "Hey, who's the guy in the kilt?" and we'd always know to say, "Oh, that's just Joe." I hadn't seen him in a very long time, but at the party he and Karla talked to me the same way they always talked to me, like I was a grownup, like I mattered. They never bothered to make kid jokes or speak slowly.

We used to go to their house for Easter. I used to wear my partiest party dress and search for eggs in the snow. Jordan and Connor and Lizzie and Isaac and I would pile on to the tree hammock until it creaked and groaned and cracked but never fell. We'd look for the places in the snow where the egg dye had melted away into puddles of color. We'd have to wait for the chocolate to thaw before we ate it.

Every Bastille Day, Joe wore a black dress. Eventually Connor wore one too, and sometimes he'd steal my top hat and wear that as well. He was always much taller than me (not always. not when we were four. but since then, maybe). We wore black and white only, and the grown-up drank fizzy things and we played guessing games I can't remember anymore, except that my answer was Pierre Curie. I wore white gloves and then later black satin gloves that didn't show grass stains as well but got caught on my earrings a lot.

I feel like... I don't know. Is it weirder having just seen him? Is it weirder that I hadn't seen him in years, and he was never a big part of my life, in fact he was pretty small, but he was always there, and I thouht he always would be? Is it weirder because he's not dead [yet] and I'm still thinking hey, Carrie was supposed to die but it's been nine months and Joe could still pull through, right? Right? And then won't I feel silly. The next time I'll see him maybe it will be Bastille Day, and I'll say "God, you wouldn't believe how much I cried when I thought you were about to be dead." And he'll chuckle and drink beer from a green bottle in his black dress and say "Well, Sophie, I'm flattered."

Sophie And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day(s)

So in case you've tried to call me recently, or have had an online conversation in which I seemed distracted or even rude, I've had one of those insanely stressful bits. But I think it's all over now. My apologies.

I got home to my dorm room on Sunday to find my room flooded. My carpet was soaked, as was everything sitting on it (including my accordion, whose strap is now covered in fuzzy mold spots). No, wait, this wasn't the beginning. The beginning was when I got home and discovered I had no keys. So the on-duty RA came and opened my room (which was locked for some reason) and I went in and saw the carpet.
Maintenance came and gave me a dehumidifier, but it didn't really do anything, plus the room smelled awful, plus they had to take apart my heater so my room was freezing. I slept in my roommate's room that night. The maintenance people said they'd bring a wet-vac the next day, but when I got home from class everything was still sopping, so I had to sleep on the couch. So I called this morning and had to move all of my crap out of my room, because then they came and got all the water up, and now it doesn't stink nearly as much, and my heater works. (Other crappiness involved me thinking I'd left my textbook on the plane, but I found it when I was moving stuff back in. Also, my keys were in Alaska, and my mom is sending them.) So, happy ending.

Also, I love my class.

MOVIES I PLAN TO WATCH SOON:
Spice World
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead
Grosse Pointe Blank
Batman (original Adam West version)

My buddy Neil

Neil Gaiman said the best New Year's thing:

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't to forget make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.

It's better than anything I could come up with. Bonne année!