Snow!

Of course, the snow makes me very happy. And Djinn is so right in that there are many other worse places to be than snowed in with each other. The weekend so far has been filled with hot chocolate, movies, and popcorn, thanks to a late night foray to the grocery store Friday evening prior to the snow. I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be than snowed in with him.

Now, on to a quick question that anyone can comment and give advice on. Since I decided to apply to USC-Columbia, I have also spent part of the weekend (Djinn sleeps in later than I do) working on that application to send off Monday morning to be delivered next day to USC (one of these apps will be sent in time for the post office to get it there under normal speed, I swear). I partly blame USC for this frantic application process, because I decided to apply definitively after filling out their oh-so-convenient online application. I curse modern technology--USC made it way too easy for me to just fill it out and click submit. And now my pride won't let me not finish.

Anyways, back to the question--if an application doesn't ask for my curriculum vita, should I send it anyways? With a nice cover letter, of course.

Any comments or feedback would be greatly appreciated by yours truly!

A few notes.

First off. Hugo Weaving has an enormous noggin. I can't get my head around this. It's gigantic. It's so huge it's almost hydrocephalic. He perhaps should have been a doctor, as, if you ever saw ABC's proto-reality show Hopkins 24/7, then you know doctors have enormous heads. At least up north.

Second. Cruising Blogger's "Next blog" button is a risky undertaking. You wind up running across hopeless otaku who think plastering a massive pic at shitty resolution of the anime that currently defines their lives across the front of their blogs is a great idea. It's not. The purpose of the blog is to create content, not crib it from somewhere else. (And now I must apologize for hypocritically posting song lyrics. Though that isn't really self-definition, not for me, it's more like sharing what I enjoy of other artists' works. So there.)

Third. There's a guy on Blogger who righteously pisses me off. I'm not going to link it for two reasons. One, that is what he wants. He would benefit from increased traffic. Second, I can't remember his address. But it's a page he's set up to criticize other people's blogs. And by "criticize," I mean personally insult. There was a "review" of a teacher's blog in which he utterly dismissed the author's validity as a person by speculating that she'd be the kind of teacher who would tear her students down even if they were smarter, and then throws in the comment that she's "probably nothing in the sack." Utterly tasteless drivel spoken by a truly self-righteous asshole. Yet another reason that blogs will not be the end-all transformative influence into the culture that technophiles and futurists claim they will be. Way to bog down the progress of the species, you piece of shit.

Fourth. Genie and I are snowed in. In South Carolina! Ha! So it's not snow. It's ice. Hopefully tomorrow it will melt off so I can get to the darkroom and finish up my exhibition quality prints for the upcoming critique. Looking pretty doubtful, though. (Sigh) There are worse places to be, than snowed in with her, I must admit.

Worse places, like anywhere else.

Confirmation!!

USF sent me notice that they received my grad school application. Since I sent it next day mail with Saturday morning delivery ($27 USD, for those curious), I was a little worried. Of course, to add to my stress levels, I decided to apply last minute to another school (USC in Columbia, SC) which has a deadline of February 1st. If they will allow things such as letters of recommendation, transcripts, and GRE scores to arrive a little late, then I'll be ok. And the frantic phone calls begin....

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

By the way, Djinn....

....Ghani asked that you update Spirits of Leonard. Just thought I'd pass that along.

Archaeologica

This is such a useful website, with an awesome name. "Archaeologica". I really love the sound of that. Seems so academic and authoritative. However, the design hurts me. Now, I'm not a website design nazi or anything--I know I've had my run-ins with busy backgrounds, poor layout, and mismatched colors. I guess since I like this site, I wish it looked a bit more streamlined. I really like their Archaeological News section for its wonderful content updated daily and while I haven't browsed through the Resources page yet, it looks like there are a lot of good links on there. Now if only its appearance were a little more refined. Then again, I go there for the content more than anything else. And hey, I only got halfway through changing link colors and such for the template of Mountains of Kaf here, so who am I to talk about poor website design? At least the site works and you can get around in it. Even if the appearance is sort of... busy.

And now, from my favorite comedic website...

Click on that link. Read a few articles. Browse around. You'll see why I think it's so hilarious. A particularly fun game is "what's the highest number of grammatical mistakes in one article?" Do they not have, I don't know, an editor?

Now, for something ridiculous, but for other reasons. So, SpongeBob Squarepants promoting tolerance of diversity is apparently only a good thing when we pick and choose which aspects of diversity we want to tolerate. Cultural diversity? Sure, we'll tolerate that. We can live with that. Religious diversity? Well, we're not happy about it, but we'll tolerate it. Sometimes. Sexual identity? No, we can't tolerate that. That's just going too far. Rather than teach children the value of diversity and different lifestyles, let's teach them to pick and choose whose lifestyle is worthy enough to be respected and whose isn't.

That's what America's all about, folks. Tolerance. Yep.

Shroud of Turin

First, can I just say that I was surprised to find that an organization called The American Shroud of Turin Association for Research (AMSTAR) even exists? Then again, maybe I shouldn't have been surprised.

Second, take a minute to read that little article, if you have any interest in archaeology, religion, chemical analyses, medieval history, or Biblical archaeology. Of course, even if the shroud isn't a medieval hoax, that doesn't mean it covered the bloody corpse of Jesus Christ. But it would lend a bit of credence to that theory.

New project

So I got this email today from my photo professor with the subject title "Project." Inside, she sent a copy of an email that creativdesign Group Inc. (of California) sent her, detailing plans for their new naturalistic-journalism initiative covering Scion (those boxy cars) events. Professor Bright asks me if I'm interested this project. That means interested in having photos and text published, getting paid for this publishing, going to a few events, getting recognition, getting paid, and getting paid.

Hmm. Let me think OH GOD YES.

So, although today has been a fun day of post-endoscopy pleasures (see prior post), I'm pretty sure this is real, because I made Genie read the email to verify it said what I thought it said.

Score.

Heavenly goodness

You should check out Fox's new show, Point Pleasant, for a healthy dose of religious drama and intrigue. I know what you're thinking. "Religious? Wtf?" But seriously. It's about this chick who's the daughter of Satan. She can blow stuff up. She tried to blow up a gas station merely to avenge an insult dropped by this bitchy blonde. The Antichristette is not one to be trifled with. It's about time the female Hellspawn started getting the attention they deserve. Though honestly, it's hard to believe she's evil. I think it's the boobies.

Endoscopy? No, it's a fun-doscopy!

So I had my EGD endoscopy today, and there's no cancer, no ulceration, nothing particularly bad in my esophagus or stomach. There is some inflammation in my esophagus, and the doc biopsied several sites to determine if I need further medication to deal with it. Also, while I was under the influence of Demerol and Bersett (sp?) I was extremely concerned with back-rubbing midgets. There were also murderous leprechauns.

When the doc was explaining the procedure to me, I was still high as a kite, and I kept asking if the procedure was over. My mom would say yes. I'd ask if it was over. She'd say yes. I asked if there was a VHS copy of my procedure that I could watch. The doc said they didn't tape it. I said, "Goddamnit, I missed it!" Then I asked the doctor if the procedure was over.

Seriously. Back-rubbing midgets.

First grad school application!

The first of several has been turned in! Woohoo. Went in on Friday, January 14. The deadline was the 15th, so of course I sent it via next day A.M. delivery on a Saturday--$27. The next apps aren't due until March or April, so more on those later. It'd be really nice to have one acceptance letter before I turn in the next applications. Then maybe I won't stress out as much. Eh, probably won't really help. I'll still stress.

Evil Rolling Stone!

So you see on the mainpage, the review for ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead's latest album, Worlds Apart? Well, it's not coming out until, hell, January 25th. This is so uncool. Don't post the review, making me want to run to Best Buy and cut a swath of destruction to AYWKUBTTOD's new disc, without telling me that it isn't coming out for two whole weeks. You bastards!

Goddamn I love Penny Arcade.

So, I never played Prince of Persia 2, but surfing old-but-favorite webcomics is better than sleeping (No. No it isn't.) and I happened to find the old strip about the Time Bitches. Look at it. Bask in the marvelous artwork that is the Time Bitch attempting to loosen a stainless wedgie. Appreciate my interests, dammit!

Jesus loves you, and wants you to know via e-mail chain letters

If I can take a moment to share with you all--yesterday, a bunch of people where I work recieved a spam chain letter in their e-mail inboxes. The person who sent it basically checked to see who was online, and sent the message to everybody he could. Regardless of whether he actually knows these people. Gotta get out the message that Jesus loves people, whether or not we want to hear it, apparently. It's not that I have a problem with Jesus, religion, or even a majority of the people who believe in Him. I have a problem with someone who feels the need to pull his faith out of his pants and wave it in my face. Put it back, dude, and leave me alone. (I also hate chain letters, which, by the way, are against policy where I work for people who use the e-mail system.) Anyways, I don't believe in Jesus, I don't have to if I don't want to, and if I'm wrong and you're right, then you can wave and point from the Pearly Gates as I burn. I won't judge you for it--I'll be in eternal torment and probably won't even notice you.

So here is the message that got sent to about 50+ people yesterday morning.

"I would rather live my life as if there is a God, and die to find out there isn't, Than live my life as if there isn't, and die to find out there is. You are my 7 in 7 seconds. I am not breaking this. No way! I'M TOLD THIS WORKS!!!!!

Bishop T.D. Jakes "7 Second Prayer." Just repeat this prayer and see how God moves!!

"Lord, I love you and I need you, come into my heart, and bless me, my family, my home, and my friends, in Jesus' name.

Amen."

Pass this message to 7 people {EXCEPT YOU AND ME}. You will receive a miracle tomorrow. I Hope that you don't ignore and let God bless you."

Now, on a MUUUUCH more interesting note---here is the way I re-wrote it to vastly improve upon the message. =) Honestly, it's something I just enjoy doing. Were my professional reputation not on the line, I would send this back to the person who sent it to me and 50 other people.

"I would rather live my life as if there isn't a God, and die to find
out there isn't, than live my life as if there is, and die to find out
there is. You are my six hundred and sixty-six in six seconds. I am
not breaking this. No way! I'M TOLD THIS WORKS!!!!!! By SATAN!!!!!!

If you don't send this to 666 people in 6 seconds, Astaroth the LORD OF HELL and his three minions, Aamon, Pruslas, and Barbatos, will ascend from the fiery depths amidst the foul, putrid stench of burning flesh and gang rape your ass from here to the Gates of Hell and back again. They will rend the flesh from thy bones and feed it to packs of hell beasts and the souls of the unbaptized. They will bend you over and tear you apart at the Pearly Gates themselves.

Say this prayer and SAY IT NOW!!!!!!

"Lord Astaroth, I worship you, I need you, come into my heart and teach me to wreak bloody havoc amongst my fellow man. Dominus Abyssus Astaroth, EGO cultus vos pro totus infinitio."

Pass this to 666 in 6 seconds (INCLUDING YOU AND ME) and feel the pulsing fiery burning stinging warmth that is the Lord Astaroth.

*Passing this message on does not guarantee safety from ass-raping. In fact, either way, you're fucked, my friend. Ass fucked."

Just keep that in mind, folks.

Much love in Astaroth,
Genie

Diogenes' Lamp

So, like the short Greek philosopher who walked around with an unlit lamp in the daytime to find an honest Athenian, after the last post, my roommate and I decided to fire up the 'Box for another round. Let's see if we find any assholes this time, we said. Well, sure enough, we found some assholes. We had gotten no farther than the lobby area (where you find out what type of game you're playing and what team you're on) than we hear, "Shut the fuck up, you fag." "No--in Britain it's--" "Fag! Shut the fuck up. If you're not American fuck you. Fag." So this guy's name, WellWornKen, who's just been abusing a Briton, is on our team.

Retribution, baby. My roommate says "Well worn? How do you say it?" And the guy says "WellWornKen, you fucking idiot." Jim smiles and says "Okay," though WellWorn can't see Jim smiling. We get into the game and Jim walks up behind WellWorn (our new teammate. Yay.) and says, "Hey, WellWorn, hold on a second," and before you know it BAM! smacks WellWorn in the head. WellWorn is dead. "How do you like that, you fucking asshole?" Jim says, and then we quit the game. We left a lot of negative feedback for Mr. WellWornKen.

Though we wound up playing a match with this guy, Grover something, and his guest, and the two of them were really cool. Never have I gotten so many kills in so short a timespan, nor as many medals (17 medals in a 5-minute game). Just felt like passing that along.

The Long Arm of Justice descends swiftly, to deliver souls from their own evils. On the Xbox.

Reach out and touch someone...

...and then learn that person is a total dick, and spend the next 3 hours washing your hands with steel wool. What am I talking about? Xbox Live, my friends. Xbox Live. And specifically, Xbox Live and the multiplayer phenomenon known as Halo 2. For a long time I've played single-player only games. Mostly because they have a plot, and organized killing is always more fun than random. (This will seem contrary to those who know me. But for a creepy bit of trivia, I like playing Max Payne 2 with the Cinema 2 mod, and imagining I am an avenging angel. Michael. Only without a sword, and with a minigun to spray delicious lead. I don't know why. But it makes me excited.) Plus, the very nature of online play is as competition. And we know Americans don't handle it well. So imagine my surprise when my first few Halo 2 Live experiences were, all in all, pleasant affairs. Then, of course, the guy who I play as a guest on leveled up. We got decent enough that we started playing other people just as decent. And let me tell you, my roommate and I are apparently the only people at our level who aren't total fucking assholes. And I mean only. We got in a string of matches with some complete cocks. And a cool guy whose tag was "Jesus." Which made my roommate's exhortations of "Oh Jesus, what's happening?" that much funnier, because then he had to explain "No, not you, the ephemeral Jesus. The dead on--no wait, you're dead too..."

Specifically, to b3ng (and leetspeak is for another post): you are a total fucking asshole. Stuttering isn't something that will get better if you CUSS AT SOMEONE. Also, if you happen to piss someone off who is on your team, and then that person keeps shooting you, odds are, it's not "random." It's anything but random, genius. Maybe that person is shooting you because you're a worthless sack of monkey shit. I normally don't wish for miracles. Miracles are, as David Hume suggested, by definition impossible. But here's my wish.

Please please please, Jesus, when b3ng gets to the Pearly Gates, please stutter. Just once. It doesn't have to be real. And then when b3ng tries to come into heaven, remind him of this moment.

And then send him to Hell, where he'll be ass-fucked with sandpaper.

Please. Amen.

Couldn't help myself.

Question: "When's the last time your computer got YOU a date?"

Answer: Never, you bitch, because I don't date superficial assholes who judge me based on brand name.

Question: "When's the last time you ditched pathetic capitalist signifiers of personal success for a more qualified measure of personal integrity and worth than a goddamn laptop?"

Answer: Uh. Never, I don't know, let me use my laptop to surf the Internet and find out. Oh wait, never.

Question: "When's the last time your computer let you avoid your own mortality?"

Answer: OH GOD all life is hopeless! I should hang myself from this modular power adapter.

Question: "When's the last time I called you a bitch?"

Answer: See first answer. You bitch.

About the roommate thing...

Two words. Halo 2. Or a word and a number. And punctuation. And Xbox Live. However many words that is.

The politics of pity in a postmodern era, and a roommate screaming "Does your penis hurt?!" Also, recognition.

So first off, Ghani has posted a link to my photoblog in the Weeblog. Which I would link to if I had any idea of how to link to the Weeblog. (It's the bonsai blog on the side of the main stuff, there are fun links to random stuff, and even the capability to comment. Anyhow. Now you know.) This is good, because honestly, there aren't enough readers for Spirits of Leonard. And since I'm the greatest innovator in photography since DeGuerre, this must be rectified.

I don't really think that. I'm an okay photographer, and since I've just gone and done something like admit to that, I should explain why you should look at said photoblog. Mostly it's just because. Hell, you're reading this, right? And a picture is worth a crapload of words. So condense all of this into a spray pattern of light and dark and BAM. Easier on the cerebellum, or something.

Because my attorney has suggested full disclosure will be less anally painful, I should also say I'm high on migraine meds right now. Thank you, Pfizer, which I'm sure is the name of an angel or something. A greedy angel who mints his own money and evens out all the other angels' moodswings and individuality.

"You know Special K? What do they do to the regular K? And for that matter whatever happened to Kay Ballard? You know, if you had a cold and said 'mallard,' it would sound like 'Ballard.'"

"Do you even listen to yourself?"

"I drift in and out."

Ah, Family Guy awesomeness. And tabbed browsing for letting me find the link after I'd gone to the trouble of typing out the code. Safari rules. As do the new mac minis. Though despite the new wave of Mac products, I'm wondering if the new budget box will hurt their image as premium product. Seems like part of the Apple elitist core (like the random guy with the goatee you see on Penny Arcade!) derives part of their attitude from knowing the suburbanite can't afford a Mac without hemorrhaging.

Also, more solid data on new Family Guy? Please? I don't know what's going on.

I regret to inform you of the probable demise of my serial fiction project, the Mercykillers, which might turn into a more normal fiction project. If you didn't know about it that's cool. You're just a tightass loser. Okay, seriously now. All joking aside. What the hell is wrong with you? How could you not be up on all the happenings in my life?

It's that moment in The Wedding Singer when oh-so-sculpted Drew Barrymore, Adam Sandler, and Ben Stiller's Wife are talking about wedding kisses. Drew Barrymore mentioned something about partial tongue, I think. You'll excuse me for not paying enough attention to typing. But that brings me back to the first thing I mentioned in the title of this ridiculous post. Pity. In an era of postmodernist disdain for sentiment, why is it that pity is the prevalent motivator of the romantic comedy? Or the comedy in general? Why is it we derive satisfaction from the spectacle of someone else's misery?

Take, for example, the scene with this fat loserkid with criminally misinformed hair. We know he's pathetic. We know that in high school, we either were that kid, or we were the kids who beat up that kid, or we were the kids who were just cooler than him and so avoided getting beaten up (and were goddamn glad for it, too). Or you were the small minority of kids like me who neglected any concept of self-preservation and stood up for that loserkid, someetimes at no small cost to yourself of kicking the living shit of someone who was giving him a hard time. Since all of us will fall into this artificial hierarchy, and I think the most of us will be either #3 or #4 (at least in this audience), you know what I'm talking about.

Anyhow, Adam Sandler notices that this kid is lonely. Some chick decided she wouldn't dance with a loser, and Sandler gets oh-so-manicuredly-luscious-but-luscious-nonetheless Drew Barrymore to dance with the loserkid. Over the mic he says "I salute the new lord of the ladies!" But, in our heart of hearts we know this is untrue. The scene has meaning because this is a flash in the pan for this kid. He was a loser yesterday, he will be a loser tomorrow, and the three or four people who give him notice now will forget in a month why it was they shouldn't pity him. But, God bless him, he'll take whatever he can get, starved as he is for attention and sympathy in a world where he might as well be dead.

You didn't notice that from the movie? Oh. Well, check it out with closed captioning. That's where the subtext appears.

That might be postmodernist humor. I'm too lazy to check it out.

Here's your parting shot. I've decided that celebrity spokespeople for diseases piss me off righteously. I guess because it fosters the attitude of one disease being more important than another. Also it fosters the idea that we can cure everything if we throw enough money at it. Which ain't the case. And probably shouldn't be the focus. Preservation of life for its own sake isn't necessarily virtuous. Let that one bake your noodle, if it could use more cooking time.

Oh yeah. To that kid in poli sci who wouldn't shut up. There's a difference between being a "conscious objector" and being a "complete dickhead." You should look into it.

Graduate school

My first application to grad school is due the 15th this week. Eeek. I've got a statement of purpose that is shaky at best, two of three recommendation letters, (although all three professors have agreed to write a letter), and a complete and utter fear of rejection. However, I've been managing to get good advice and support from the professors who are writing my letters, so that's a major plus.

For those interested, I'm applying to USF for their program in Public Archaeology.

I've decided that it doesn't matter to me as much where in the world or the U.S. that I work, or what culture I study. What I want to do is help preserve what archaeological resources are available for people and to communicate to the public at large what archaeological data means. I could be content with that--it's never been about studying a particular culture for me, but rather, just doing archaeology.

I bet you're glad you're not Ghani right now

Gee, Ghani, having a little trouble with that dissertation? Whatever would you do without friends like Lo, Kyra, myself, and Palila? Do you recall your Statement of Purpose that Kyra, Lo, and I helped you with?

What do you know? I happen to have a copy of that very Statement of Purpose. Here's a brief excerpt:

In the past five years, (I have sat on my ass and gotten drunk while jerking off) I have pursued my interest in electronic government. As an undergraduate majoring in political science, I focused my research on the (fact that Kyra is a skanky whore and can't type for shit God damn I hate you, Genie) relationships between technology and government (AKA Internet porn involving goverment officials), law, and political communication.

Now, while I may not remember which color represented each person, I do know this--you were damned lucky to have our help. =)

Isn't it good to have friends like us, Ghani? I can't wait to help out with that dissertation.

Showers only now

So yesterday evening, after the first day back at work, I was feeling a tad stressed--tension headache, sore shoulders, etc. When I arrive home after being out all day until about 10:00 pm, I think to myself, "I could really use a hot bath." A bath has never been a bad idea in the past. I have no reason to expect it to be a bad idea now.

So, I'm laying in the tub, and the water isn't as hot as I'd like it to be. There had been bubbles in the tub from my roommate taking a bath earlier, so I don't expect to be able to get much heat. One bath will use up all the hot water pretty quickly. Anyways, In keep turning up the hot water, and it keeps cooling down as I'm filling the tub more and more, and I keep turning it up. However, the heat never got above what I've used in the past in the tub. I never got burned by the water.

I dip my head and shoulders under the water, relaxing, letting the tension fade from my muscles. I'm starting to feel better. My head hurts a little less, and my shoulders are loosening. I sit up out of the water, and feel the cool air around me (a little steamy, but not too bad--I can still breathe).

Hmmm... my feet and legs feel.... heavy. Lift one leg, then the next, lower them back into the water. Yes definitely heavy.... Hmmm.... the tiles at the end of the tub... the faucet... why are they.... moving? Shifting? Tilting? I need my glasses oh god i'm passing out in the tub and i'm going to pass out and drown holy shit i'm going to drown and die and no one will know i've died in the tub.....

Frantically, I throw myself out of the tub, attempting to stand up. My only thought is "don't drown get out of the water." I can't stand. The room tilts, and I fall to my left SMACK head hits the small white cabinet next to the tub at least it wasn't the hard porcelain of the toilet i'm on the floor and I can't get up.

"HHHHHAAAAAYYYYYLLLEEEYYYY!!!!!!! HELP!!!! HELP!!!"

Both my roommates arrive, but I can't see them, I can't seem to lift my head from the floor, I'm half in the tub, half out, laying on the ground and I can't get up and I'm crying and sobbing nearly hysterically. I feel a cool wash cloth on my forehead, and after a few minutes, I can move the cloth to the back of my neck. One roommate runs to get me something to eat, something to raise by blood sugar levels. The kitten runs into the room, and begins licking the water off my leg. Then she tries to jump into the tub of hot water.

I start to feel better. Only when one roomie covers my ass with a towel do I really remember that yes, I'm naked. I was wearing a swimsuit top, at least, since, let's be honest, girls--if you're well-endowed, going without some sort of support can hurt and isn't good for stressed out tension filled shoulders.

Today, I'm a little shaken still from randomly passing out in the bathtub, and I have a bruise on my head from where I hit it, but otherwise okay.

However, I may never bathe again.

Auld Lang Syne

Happy New Year and Merry (insert holiday of choice)!

If you follow the Chinese calendar, or by chance the Mayan calendar, or some other calendrical system I've not heard of, then Happy Today (maybe Happy Saturday or even Happy Sabbath for some?)!

Just trying to be as PC as possible. Not like I care for the sake of political correctness, I just try to be a little more culturally aware than most. Enough anthropology classes to garner a major will do that to a girl.

Anyways, my apologies if anyone has actually read this and found our lack of posts frustrating recently. The Christmas season tends to be hectic for many, what with shopping, traveling, going to visit friends & family, and friends & family coming to visit. Now it's time to pack up the ornaments, shove the blinking-lights-reindeer back into his box in the closet for another year, get the cat out of the Christmas tree, throw it out (the tree, not the cat), and head back to the joy that is another year.

Anyone need an extra Christmas miracle or two? My family didn't use up our quota this season. Eh, maybe we'll save them for next year.