Blue Sun?!?

I like airports. I’m not sure why, but something about being in them makes me feel happy. Perhpas part of it is a sort of brooding excitement or expectancy. I love to fly as well, so perhpas it is also due to assaociation with the enjoyment of flying, and traveling in general.
I recently flew to minnesota, and was enjoying myself standing in the long line lugging my suitcase and overstuffed cary-on. People were hurrying past, while others stood about leaning boardly on their luggage. Traffic directors waved people this way and that, and large carts of baggage rolled by. The line slowly slithered forward. The baggage check crept into view. Then my heart stopped.
....’two by two, hands of blue’...
The haunting lines echoed through my head as I stared at at least five pairs of decidedly blue hands. All the security officers checking the bags were wearing blue gloves, of exactly the same hue as the agents searching for River. It was really very unnerving. Of course my bag passed just fine since I wasn’t hauling any cryostacised fugatives or contraband supplies, though the unlabled bag of sinus headache pills and the knitting needles made me a little nervous. They really couldn’t have chosen more unfortunate timing to issue blue gloves to their workers.....unless of course there’s a lot more truth in sci-fi than we realize =)

autumn light

N sunlight-fallleaves#E2DD6
Originally uploaded by aelthwyn.

Autumn has a mysterious feel to it. A musty sort of feeling, like it’s filled with old dusty memories. It feels like somehow the past is closer this time of year. When I smell the cool crisp autumn air I am always reminded of ancient ruins, and grey castles rising out of the mist. Iget the sort of feeling of one sitting in a wizard’s study, surrounded by piles of crinkly old parchments and huge tomes containing legends and secrets from time out of mind, and the expectancy of finding some new secret, or some new mystery to solve, some new quest connected with all those adventures of long ago.
I used to hink spring was my favorite season, but although I love the bright glowing blade sof new grass, and the flowers, and the fresh feeling of sunbeams shining down after the rain, and the idea of the renewal of life and all that, it just doesn’t strike a chord deep within me as atumn does. I was rather surprised to discover that my favorite season is fall, but perhaps it is an ‘aquired taste’ as they say. It seems to me that I discovered that about the same time I found myself humming things in minor keys which I had never really liked before. I have not yet found myself enjoying green beans, however, as they all predicted I would ‘grow into’.
This year I was able to enjoy a more authentic autumn because we went to Minnesota where the trees actually all lose their leaves etc. I enjoyed it, and only wished I’d had more time to take pictures - it was a rather short trip. Here is a picture from Thanksgiving this year -can't you tell? =) naturally there are no people eating turkey in it - which captures fall rather well I think. The sunlight glowing through the veined leaves reminded me just a bit of stained glass windows.

'Egad!'

that's all I have to say

Jurassic Store

My hands currently look as though some small rodent has been gnawing on them in the night while my conciousness wanders other worlds. I counted fifteen small gashes on my right forefinger and thumb today at diner. The culprit, however, is in fact the biting shelves at work. Not only did the batting mutate into a giant amoeba, but the fixtures have grown fangs and developed some kind of primitive conciousness evidenced by their agressive behaviour toward those who invade their personal space as well as a rapidly growing appitite for meat - or maybe it’s just the blood they like.
Perhaps this is part of why they want to move the store. If we stayed much longer we might find ourselves featured in some made-for-TV horror flim in which customers start disappearing while bloodcurdling screams echo down the isles, and employees fall victim to the vampire shelves.

Attack of the Giant Mutant Batting

There is a huge roll of batting in the back corner of Jo-Annes. Over the past few weeks it has developed into a gigantic amoeba shape and threatens to take over the entire batting corner. Customers have actually requested to take home portions of this strange new entity - a desire I cannot fathom. Do you want a white fluffly amoeba to take over your living room? Luckilly it has not yet been successfull at surrounding and absorbing anyone (that we know of), nor has it been capable of mitosis - heaven help us if it ever should! When attempting to carry it to the cutting table my head usually disappears within it’s folds and I always have to wonder if I will ever emerge again. I fear if some customer does not rid us of it soon it will suceed in absorbing all other batting material, eventually overflowing into the rest of the store.

18 yards of denim

I recently got a job at Jo-Ann's fabric store. Shortly after I began working there I started having nightmares involving large quantities of fabric which I am attempting to fold or cut or measure. In one dream I had measured out 18 yards of denim and cut it and was attempting to fold it all up when the lady decided she didn’t want it afterall. I woke up restlessly trying to fold my blankets. I hope this will pass once I'm more used to working there.

Floating Bloodsucking Jelly-fish!

I am sewing sleves tonight. As I paused to evaluate my handiwork so far I was reminded of the vampire jelly-fish things from Cordelia’s Honor (if Megan Stringfellow hasn’t read that book she should; actually all of you should). How a sleve could remind one of bloodsucking jelly-fish is something you can only understand if you know me. Just immagine...what would Andrea do with striped courderoy? Joi might be able to picture what I’m talking about because she was here for the first part of the sleves - before they developed dangly leggs and an apatite for blood. If you were here now I would be waving them menaceingly at you while grinning and giggling. I expect this would evoke some kind of bizzar retaliation ...but as I am all alone I guess I’ll just sit here and remember favorite scenes from that book while I handstitch the rest of the leggs. I think I will now be reminded of the scene where they blow up the helium filled jelly-fish every time I wear this.

Long Hair

I have what most people would call 'really long' hair. I would consider it medium length - it reaches a little past my hips. People always ask me how long it has taken to grow it - the answer is about 8-9 years. Much to my dismay my hair grows very slowly. It does grow a lot faster than I thought it did as a child, however. Now, in general I would consider myself to have been a pretty bright kid, I usually got straight A's throughout school. But strangely enough I never connected the fact that my hair didn't grow with the fact that my mother was always having it cut. I only realised this in the last year or two. You see, my mother hates hair, says she wishes everyone was bald, and never wanted to mess with taking care of my hair when I was little, so she kept it at a sort of 'page-boy' style. Finally when I was old enough to take care of my hair myself - meaning she didn't have to sit and comb it out while I screamed or fumble with briads that didn't want to stay tight - she let me grow it out. By eighth grade it was about waist length and then tragedy struck. I went to get a trim, you know get rid of some split ends and even it out a bit, and the lady when scissor happy. She chopped it off to shoulder length once again. My mother said she had never witnessed anyone as angry as I was, said she'd never seen what a real rage looked like. For some reason my long hair is a very inegral part of my being, cut it off and you've just amputated half my soul - it seems. I don't feel like myself with short hair! It goes against all my principles! Can you immagine being made to be what you are not. It is utterly contrary to me to have short hair. I was horrified, angry beyond expression, and extreemly depressed. Needless-to-say since that horrible day I have seen to it that my hair has not met with any more voracious scissors. I have hopes that it will someday be past my knees, though it doesn't seem to be in any hurry to get there. I have given up on the rapunzel thing, and perhaps not even on the floor length. If it actually did grow to the floor I might keep it that way, but I don't think I'd really like it to get dirty like that all the time, and I'd really rather not have to pick old gum and bits of lint or trash out of the ends of it at the end of the day. I can't immagine it would stay very healthy.
I am very protective of my hair. You do not even want to joke about cutting it. Holding scissors while standing behind me puts me on edge. I am really a nice person, good, lawabiding and all that, (the only thing I take joy in harming is bugs in my house, outside I protect them) but I really don't know what I'd do if I caught someone cutting off my hair. I might just murder them. I'd probably go mad on any account. I had a nightmare once that someone was cutting my hair while I was asleep and I had violent urges to thrash whoever it was with a knife, I woke up trembling and layed there grasping my hair and feeling up and down it's length to reassure myself that it was still there. I really can't explain why my hair is so important to me, it doesn't make really sense, but it's very true none-the-less. So there you have the warning - don't joke about cutting my hair - Seriously.
I honnestly think that almost everyone should have long hair. I am, however, also a fairly open-minded and reasonable person. I know that a great many people will never agree with me on this account, and there's really nothing to be done about it. Everyone's hair is really their own business, but if you ever ask me if you should get your hair cut you know my answer. I will admit that a few people do in fact look better with short hair, but I think many more would look good with long hair than think they would. It always makes me happy to see people with hair longer than shoulder length - well at least when they keep it nice. When it is all straggly on the ends or when it is so thin it looks like a rat's-tail when braided then I'm not so fond of it. Even people with grey hair, I think, should have long hair. I think long silvery hair is very pretty. It's a shame almost all older women cut their hair short. I do generally like men to have long hair as well, though perhaps not as long as women. -that is rahter an interesting trend, dont' you think, that in generall all over the world men tend to have shorter hair than women.
Many people seem to think than having 'long' hair is 'more work' than short hair. I would definately disagree. I spend much less time on my hair every day than my mother does. I can very easily braid it, or 'throw' it up into a pony tail or bun in less than 2 minutes, whereas she spends considerably more time (I haven't timed it) curling and styling and ratting and spraying it. If she just leaves her short hair how it is when she gets up it looks pretty funny, but just a quick brush over the top to flatten some of the whispys that have gotten out during the night (I sleep with it in a braid to keep it from tangling) and my hair is at least passable. Now some people with short hair can just get up and do nothing with it, but most women with short hair, it seems, do spend a great deal of trouble styling it.

Tea

...is a way of life. To me it symbolises slowing down and enjoying simple pleasures, and the easy-going attitude that allows you to do that. Stopping to have a cup of tea often gives me a new perspective on the day. One of the things I like best about Ireland and Brittain is that they serve good tea and serve it often. Tea is soemthing for hot summer days as much as for rainy evenings. Both old and young people drink it in Brittain; it is not only something for frumpy old ladies. In Ireland usually the first thing a friend is asked as they come in is if they’ed like a ‘cuppa’ and of course they alsways do. Instead of feeling obligated to come up with some kind of entertainment people would just sit and talk over a cup of tea (or several -I was oftered a cup about every half hour in one home) Some of the best conversations happen over a cup of tea. Somehow drinking tea seems to put people more at ease.
Tea makes everything better. When I’m feeling tierd, or stressed, or frustrated, or glum drinking a cup of good tea sooths and relaxes, comforts, gladdens my heart, makes the day beautifull again. Tea is like a hug in a cup. Perfect moments usually involve a cup of tea. In fact, a really good cup of tea can make almost any moment sublime.
Tea in America is in a very sad state. It is possible to get good tea, but quite difficult. When you can find it it is always sold in miniscule quantities at high prices. Sigh. Most of the time when you ask for tea at a restaraunt here you get the kind that tastes like they brewed cardboard. The most popular choice seems to be Lipton, which is not so bad as Nestea and some others; it will do in a pinch but it certainly is not very enjoyable. I have taken to carying my own tea-bags with me and simply requesting hot-water so I don’t have to pay to suffer through/grimace down the liquid cardboard. They also never serve milk or creme with tea here unless you are in an actual tea-house. I am constantly forgetting to tell them to keep their lemon and honey and bring me some little coffee creamers instead if they have any - sometimes they actually bring milk in a little pitcher which is nice. Cofee houses are in abundance here, and they often do serve some tea but the selection is usually very limited, and only occassionally includes a good black tea.
I prefer black tea. Breakfast teas are my favorites. On occasion I will drink herbal teas, but although I like them I like black tea so much better that I will always choose that first. Earl Grey is nice, but a lighter more, I guess I would call it ‘flowery’ flavor than I prefer. I like my tea fairly strong, and used to drink it plain, but since my trip to Ireland and Scottland a couple years ago I have taken to drinking it with milk. They insisted upon it in Ireland and I guess I just got hooked. I still like it without milk, but if I can have it I usually will put a little in. I don’t like a lot of milk in it, just a few drops usually. When it’s brewed just right and has the rigth ammount of milk it always looks the same color of amber-brown with the same ammount of opaque-ness. I particulaqrly like to have it with a piece of cheddar cheese or some chocolate - usually twix or plain dark chocolate. I like the way those flavors mix with the flavor of tea.

Cheese

I really like cheese. There are so many different wonderfull kinds of cheese. Blue cheese drdessing was for a long time the only dressing I liked at all. It is best when it has big chunks of real blue cheese in it - Disneyland has good blue cheese, it makes me not even care if half my salad is composed of that nasty bitter white lettuce - it’s just a bit of crunchiness with my blue cheese. Another one of me favorite cheeses is Irish - at Stater Brother’s they call it Dubliner cheese and soemtimes have it in the special deli cheese section. When I first had it in Ireland they said it was regular cheddar and I was very confused because I always thought cheddar was orange and kind of waxy in texture, yet this was white and somewhat dry and crumbly with little crunchy salt flecks. I think it is actually made from goat’s milk, but I don’t know for sure. I like swiss cheese when it is cold, but not so much when it is melted, I’m not sure why. Provalone is very nice on sandwiches. I also like a lot of the softer cheeses that they will often put on salads at nice restaraunts like Feta or Gorgonzola. Sting cheese tastes best, I think, when eaten in very thin strings. I just don’t understand people who will eat it without peeling it apart, it tastes kind of strange that way for some reason.
I always like LOTS of cheese, except on quesedillas. For some reason I just don’t like thick quesedillas, they seem too rubbery to me, I like them thin and crispy, or the way Del Taco makes them which is thin and stringy. I’m not quite sure what kind of cheese they use, it doesn’t seem like normal cheese you buy from the store and grate up, it has a different consistancy, a bit more oily unfortuneately, but very satisfyingly soft and stringy. Taco Bell, on the other hand, does not make very good quesadillas - well, they do make them crunchy wich is good, however they don’t melt the cheese anymore. I think part of it is because for some unknown reason they switched to wide grated chees rather than thin grated cheese which means it doesn’t melt as easily. It also, unfortuneatley, has a way of reminding me of little white grubs all smashed together - ugh! I am very sore about the change in grating-size because I used to really like Taco Bell tacos, but now that the cheese never melts and has the wrong sort of consistancy they just don’t have the same charm. Hmm.. come to think of it I tend to like thinner grilled cheese sandwiches too for the same reasons, it should be crunchy not rubbery. On spaghetti, however, I like to have at least equal parts cheese to pasta. Since I don’t like tamato sauce I usually just put butter and a mountain of parmasagn cheese, though sometimes I get alfredo. My very favorite way to have it is the Mizithra cheese and browned butter at the Spaghetti factory. Pizza should always have much more cheese than it has sauce. It’s just nasty when it looks like it’s bleeding because the sauce is all squeezing out from between the sparce cheese -eeew! I remember long ago what was possibly the best pizza I ever had. It had soo much cheese, and the cheese was so thick and stringy that I had taken my piece and pulled it away but the cheese stayed attached and just kept stretching and stretching, but it never looked as though there was any less on the rest of the pizza. I tried to brreak it, but it wouldnt’ break, so I thought I’d bite it - I stuck part of the long string in my mouth and chewed, it didn’t completely separate, so I kept eating it, and it kept stretching and soon I and a very long string from the pizza to my peice taking a detour down my throught - yes it does sound kind of gross when you think about it, but I just remember it being really amazingly cheesy pizza - the best one I ever had. One of my favorite ways to eat cheese is with Tea. I found that I really like the flavor of eating cheddar with breakfast tea, I’m not sure why they taste so good together, I wouldn’t have expected it, but they really do. I also like to just fry up grated cheddar all by itself. At one point I had it perfected, but then I didnt’ do ti for a while and now I usually can’t get it to work right. I remember that I would put the grated cheese in the frying pan making sure it was allin one clump with no straggling peices because those woudl burn, and then I’d stick a cover over it and let it sizzle for a while, then when I felt the time was right I’d flip it and in the end it would make a lovely semi crispy semi chewy wafer of cheese - almost like cheese-it crackers only much better. Usually I would have to pat it between paper towels first to get rid of all the extra greese but recently I haven’t been able to get it crispy enough to not stick to the paper when I tried to absorb the greese, I’m not really sure why.

Pic 'n' Save

or did they actually include a ‘k’?
(here follows a little rant. I must make appologies in advance for my own poor spelling and grammar abilities, not wishing to appear too much a hypocrite)
...It seems to me I remember it not being spelled with a k, but then, I didn’t shop there very often. Whether or not the orriginal name had a spelling error, the new name is gramatically far worse. Personally, I find the new name for Pic ‘n’ Save absolutely appalling. I refuse to use the name unless I must because I feel so stupid saying it. Big!Lots -!!! What’s with that? I ask you! What precicely is that supposed to mean? It makes no gramatical sense whateoever. First off, there is the blaring exclamaition mark right in the middle. ‘Big Lots’ is not a even sentence, and even if it were the exclaimation mark would appear at the end. Obviously this out of place punctuation mark has been included because the sign maker wishes to inspire excitement in the reader, and it has no doubt been inserted in the middle on account of someone’s idea of ‘aesthetic’ ballance. Why not insert a large smiley face symbol? Or how about a gigantic capital Z? Either of those would have just as much business being there as that exclaimation mark. This prominantly ill-placed symbol of excitement puts me in mind of those excutiatingly cheesy Barbie commercials in which several little girls squeal obnoxiously and exhibit far more enthusiasm than normal hyperactive children over the dolls in question. Is that really the impression intended by the use of the exclaimation mark here?
Even ignoring this case of abused punctuation, the words themselves do not make sense together. Has the company chosen at random two words which mean roughly ‘a large ammount’? Why? It does me no good for you to tell me you have large ammounts.... without telling me of what. For all I know you could be talking about mounds of manure; in which case I certainly don’t wish to enter your shop. ‘Big’ what? ‘Lots’ of what?
'Big' and 'Lots' are not adjectives generally seen together. Even with a noun they would sound odd. Big lots of stuff. Big lots of savings. Part of the problem, I think, is that ‘lots’ requires ‘of’ between it and a noun, and 'big' does not. You would never say ‘big of dogs’ any more than you would say ‘lots dogs’. The other problem is that these ‘modifyers’ appear in the wrong order. You can say ‘lots of big dogs’ without sounding awkward at all. I am not, however, saying that ‘Lots!Big’ would be any better for a shop sign, nor even ‘Lots of Big!’ - to that one must ask 'What is Big? Can I buy some big?' as ‘Lots of Big’ makes it sound as though Big is a ‘mass noun’ (like water).
I would like to diverge a moment here to ask a nagging question: when did the form ‘lots’, with an S, come to be used as anything but a plural of the singular noun ‘lot’ meaning a plot of land? I can say either ‘I have a lot of cats,’ or ‘I have lots of cats’ and be understood to mean exactly the same thing.
‘Big’ and ‘Lots’ are both words which refer to the ammount or size of some noun, however no noun is apparant in the sign for them to be refering to. I suppose, as it is a shop, we may assume that they are refering to large and/or numerous items for sale - lots of merchandice perhaps? Big merchandice? or perhaps they mean big ammounts (still a bit awkward) of merchandice. ‘Large ammounts’ would probably be the preferable word choice (whether or not it particularly makes more sense), but somehow ‘Large!Lots’, though equally bad grammatically in and of itself, is less appealing to the advertising specialist -maybe because it doesn’t roll off the tongue as quickly. Or perhaps ‘large’ does not appear in the infantile vocabuilary list he has to choose from. Can you not hear a toddler’s high-pitched voice squaking out excitedly ‘Big!’ ‘Lots!’ while straining its short pudgy arms out of the stroller toward rows of large teddy bears or candy bars.
When I first saw this sign I was utterly confused. I kept trying to work it out in my mind and kept feeling as though I was being spun like a top upside down. It just didn't make any sense. It was like naming a store ‘Tall High’, or ‘Soft Squishy’ - which sounds like complete nonsense that is begging to be given meaning in the form of a noun. Then in desperation I seized upon the meaning for ‘Lot’ mentioned above. Perhaps the sign meant ‘large pieces of land’. Still this doesn’t make a great deal of sense as a name for a store. Were they selling large plots of land? Were they boasting that their stores were always built on lage plots of land thereby indicating that they were big buildings holding large quantities of merchandice?
Or perhaps the meaning intended for ‘lot’ here is: ‘an object used in deciding something by chance’. -? So...perhaps it means there are big opportunites? Lots of long straws - so to speak- rather than short straws or ‘lemons’?
I am sure that in re-naming the store they hoped to sort of give it a step up in the world; banish the mental images of huge piles of random cheap objects through which one must sort (pick) like some sort of nightmare which were, perhaps, conjured up by the title ‘Pic ‘n’ Save’. However, resorting to a kind of jarring, confusing baby talk is not my idea of taking a step upwards on the social latter.

As I was thinking about this my random adjective generator started spewing out more pairings - how would you like to visit any of these stores? What would they be selling? ...Tall Hairy, Yellow Raunchy, Quiet Nosy, Rugged Tawney, Fast Rapid, Glistening Shimmering, Cool Hot, Clicking Tapping, Cute Cuddly, Short Small, Grim Gory, Fat Pudgy, Leaky Sloshy, Funny Sunny, Far Close, Peckish Persnickety.....

Scarborogh Faire

I went through the spice rack today and reorganised that cupboard. Naturally I was distracted by smelling all the spices I had taken out. Some of my favorites were Marjoram, Anise, Nutmeg, Basil, Rosemary, and Cloves. I really liked one that was an Italien blend, which contained several of the ones I’ve mentioned already along with Thyme, which I discovered we did not have so I didn’t get to smell it by itself, but I guess that I would like it. That got me thinking about other smells that I really like. Star Jasmine has got to be one of my very favorites. I also like leather, Pine (Christmas Tree), Vanilla, and many others that don’t really have names. I reallly like the clean smell of plain soap - forget all those scented ones! And the warm clean smell of laundry is so nice and fuzzy, almost like smelling a hug instead of feeling one.

Fighting Dragons

A thought has long troubled me concerning all the pictures of knights fighting dragons all clad in shining armour. It seems to me that really it would be like bringing the enemy’s weapons with you to battle. Of course their inconveinience vs. usefullness would depend on the actual nature of dragons: the size, strength, claws, and fire capabilities - heat, distance, bredth, frequency of use, and all that sort of thing. But given the average picture of dragons -being much larger than humans, making great use of the ability to breath formidable streams of fire, their large claws, and great strength, all aside from nearly impenitrable skin, it really seems that armour would not be of any use agianst them, and in fact, a hindrance. First of all it must be remembered that metal gets very hot quite easily -giving one no real protection from a dragon’s flames. For though the flames themselves might not touch the man, his armour certainly would get hot, and that heat would linger, keeping him inclosed in a kind of oven. The hot metal would burn the man even if the flames did not. Another concern, assuming he was quick enough to evade the dragon’s fires, is the dragon’s superior strength. A whak from tail or claw could likely dent plate armour, and certainly being squished up against a wall or floor of rock by a dragon would result in the crushing of the metal plates into a much more compressed shape, which if the man were able to escape from such a plight he would, nevertheless, be unable to get it back into normal shape and would be little better off breathing-wise at the least, not to mention the difficulty stiff armour would lend to worming oneself out of such tight places. Chain mail at least would not be prone to fatal dents. However, it is quite conceivable that a dragon would be able to tear chain mail almost as easily as cloth. Therefore mail would provide no better protection. For even though it would have superior ventilation for cooling down after a firey blast, it would still remain uncomfortably hot, and serve little purpose. And if a dragon’s claw should not actually tear the mail, if it were to catch it, or if it should catch on something else it would be impossible for the man to free himself quickly by ripping out of it, as one may do with cloth. Assuming one was also agile enough to evade the dragon’s claws and tail as well as it’s fire there would really be no purpose for armour at all. One would surely be even more swift and nimble without it. All in all, it seems a very foolish thing to go into battle with a dragon in any kind of ordinary armour. Perhaps a flame retardant jumpsuit, though certianly less fashionable, would be a more sensible choice of attire. One option which does come to mind, is that of dragonskin. It seems that dragon’s scales would probably be resistant to fire, if they were to live with eachother at all, and must certainly be flexible, as reptiles are generally quite flexible. Therefore armour of dragonskin might be the best option, if it were possible to cut and sew it.

The Lion King

One of my belifes about beauty has certainly been confirmed. There is beauty in movement. It is not just the forms and colors which make a thing beautifull, it’s motion itself can be beautifull, and that is a great deal of what makes the theatrical version of The Lion King beautifull. I went to see a production of this with some friends tonight (actually this was several months ago now). The style of costuming and sets which they used, that is the not realistic style, is usually not much to my taste and simply does not engage me. I tend not to follow a play as well and feel bored more often in such minimalist or abstract/impressionist productions, but this one, although it could not in fact be realistic, as people cannot take the shape or true movements of animals, it was definately very engaging and even beautifull in my estimation. I realised upon reflection that much of the beautty actually comes from the movement of the characters and dancers. When watching them one gets the impression that to move like that would feel beautifull. There was such grace as well as strength in the danceing, and the simple acting itself. I particularly loved watching the leaping gazells, though the lions’ movements ran a close seccond. Even the way the simple kite-like birds glided about was beautifull. The sunrise was perhaps the most glorious part aside from the motion, although the night sky filled with stars was also keenly beautifull, and I might add looked quite reaslistic. The more extensive use of singing in an african language - I don’t know which - was also one of the beauties of this production. Although in general I enjoy the soundtrack from the movie more for the grand orchestral sections, the african singing is moving in a way that cannot be captured by any instrument.
I found this verse very appropriate tonight :
The Heavens declare the glory of God;
And the firmament shows His handiwork.
Day unto day utters speach,
And night unto night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech nor language
Where their voice is not heard.
Their line has gone out through all the earth,
And their words to the end of the world.

Lint

There is a multicolored longhaird lint monster that lives in our hall closet. Whenever we aren’t looking he runs about the house waving his hairy arms and dropping an even coating of lint on all tiled surfaces. He came with the house. We didn’t have one at our old house because we had a deepthroated dust monster that made regular rounds of the neighborhood bellowing and growling on saterday mornings, blowing all the dust and leaf particles from outside under everyones doors with his powerfull gusty breath. Lint monsters are afraid of deepthroated dust monsters of course, being very quiet creatures themselves, who like to take long naps snuggled among the warm winter coats in hall closets. That is, of course, why I have to sweep every day.

Clover

N clovers-1dk
Originally uploaded by aelthwyn.

I like clovers. They are green. That is enough to make me like them, but not only are they green -naturally green not painted or dyed- but they are also cute -their little rounded almost heartshaped leaves, and they are delicate, and have fun little pompom flowers (at least one variety) which make nice easy flower chains, and I hear they make good honey too. They are also, of course, associated with Ireland which adds a great deal of charm.
For my birthday my mother bought me a lovely little white teacup with dark green clovers painted on it and gold trim. I am looking at it now - so pretty and delicate and peacefull. Green things always have a soothing effect on me, as does tea - so it’s a perfect combination =)
I should add that I have in fact found several four leaf clovers in my life time. I saved one of them for quite a long time, but I fear it got lost or crushed the last time we moved. Perhaps they are not lucky, but one still feels special havnig found one just because they are so rare.
There was once, well I’m sure it’s still there, a lovely little spot at a camp I went to, under a picturesquly gnarled old tree by a pond where there was a little bench and all about on the ground were clovers. It was a special place to go and sit and reflect. Some friends and I also found a cute little frog there once, I think we named him Bud. ahh....fond memories.  

Clover

N clovers-1dk
Originally uploaded by aelthwyn.
I like clovers. They are green. That is enough to make me like them, but not only are they green -naturally green not painted or dyed- but they are also cute -their little rounded almost heartshaped leaves, and they are delicate, and have fun little pompom flowers (at least one variety) which make nice easy flower chains, and I hear they make good honey too. They are also, of course, associated with Ireland which adds a great deal of charm.
For my birthday my mother bought me a lovely little white teacup with dark green clovers painted on it and gold trim. I am looking at it now - so pretty and delicate and peacefull. Green things always have a soothing effect on me, as does tea - so it’s a perfect combination =)
I should add that I have in fact found several four leaf clovers in my life time. I saved one of them for quite a long time, but I fear it got lost or crushed the last time we moved. Perhaps they are not lucky, but one still feels special havnig found one just because they are so rare.
There was once, well I’m sure it’s still there, a lovely little spot at a camp I went to, under a picturesquly gnarled old tree by a pond where there was a little bench and all about on the ground were clovers. It was a special place to go and sit and reflect. Some friends and I also found a cute little frog there once, I think we named him Bud. ahh....fond memories.  

Exercises in Anger Management

I must have logged on to AOL at least 20 times during a 2 hour period because my ‘session ended because the AOL host is not responding’. Sometimes it would disconnect me even before the AOL welcome page had finished loading. I really wanted to upload a couple of pictures to the flinter’s website at last but it seemed like the little button ‘upload now’ had been reprogrammed to ‘disconnect now’. Of course it didn’t tell me right away that I wasn’t connected, so I got to sit there for a good long time watching it process, thinking it was uploading pictures only to dicover that I had just wasted 10 minutes watching little arrows go across the screen between 2 little pictures of computers. And I tried it over and over again, so it was really a waste of two or more hours. When it wasn’t pretending to upload my pictures and then giving me the ‘session ended’ alert box, then it was telling me that it couldn’t find or couldn’t communicate with my modem, even though it is internal and could not be disconnected from the computer. Now at the same time I was also handsewing some very sheer, slippery, stretchy fabric which didn’t want to do what it was supposed to. I am typing this the next day which is why this is not a string of colorful names for AOL in all caps. Yeah, that wouldn’t really be like me, but I have to admit to having been feeling like it at the time. Instead I sat there in all the appearance of calmness slowly pinning the sheer fabric. I think I handled it quite well, although I think one should be aiming for the inner peace in the heat of the moment rather than just a show if it. Perhaps it really is too petty a thing to actually get angry over, simply getting your plan foiled, over and over and over, but it is annoying.

‘O the Cleverness of Me!’

I am feeling quite proud of myself for figuring out how to change something on my computer which I had at first thought impossible and was vexed about. My roomate had looked into it and said that it was impossible to change it, they hadn’t made this new system with the same options as before, but I figured it out! =) The sound it plays when you change the volume was limited to only the the ‘pop’ sound effect, although you could choose other effects for alerts and such. Well I didn’t like the poping sound, but I did like having the feedback on the sound keys, so I discovered where the sound file was that it played upon changing volume and then opened it up in a sound editing program and erased it and copied one of the other sound effects I liked and put it in there. It wasn’t actulaly that easy, because it wouldn’t let me save the change. So then I did ‘get info’ on it and changed the ‘owner’ information and all that, and made it so I was allowed to edit it, and then I redid my change and that time it saved! Yay! I am very happy now, I like the submarine sound infinately better than the popping noise. You know, the popping noise is a rather dry and flat noise, while the submarine sound does actually sound more wet, and more full too. Hmm.... I wonder if I could change my alert sound to be something from an actual song, rather than one of their sound effects.....

Screenshots--Camera happy

My roomate Tracy introduced me to taking screen-shots of movies, and after she found a program that allowed one to do so, both of us spent hours slowly watching movies and taking pictures of all our favorite parts. I believe I have always had an artistic eye, and enjoyed taking pictures in real life as often as I had a chance, though that was seldom. This oppened a whole new field of photography so to speak, for one could take pictures of things which did not even really exist, and of people who were not standing squint-eyed and cheesy-smiled in front of half of the sign for the monument behind them. It got to be a rather adicting hobby. It was not as though there was anything we could actually do with all those pictures, even looking through them ourselves was not really going to happen often, but it was fun none the less to be able to stop and enjoy a specific moment of lighting or expression or scenery or composition, and perhaps sort through them all later to pick out a desk top picture. I think it makes one more aware of the artistic aspect of films, for whether or not the story was enjoyable or the acting good, a film may simply be beautifull or striking. After a while both of us said that we found ourselves wishing we could take ‘screenshots’ of life as it happened. I think I had always had this desire, though not quite so frequently.
Then my grandpa gave me a digital camera for graduation, making it possible - to some degree - to take ‘screenshots’ of life around me. I have indeed had a lot of fun taking pictures and would perhaps like to be a ‘Photographer’ in a more official sence than simply one who takes pictures. I would of course like to have a big fancy manual camera with cool lenses and all that sort of thing and be able to develop them myself, but those kinds of cameras are rather heavy to cary about and far more conspicuous when one is attempting to catch candid shots of people who are of the cheesy-smile shcool of thought, and it is far less expensive and much quicker to take a lot of photos on a digital camera and just download them and then sort out the not so good ones, than to buy film and pay for developing it or for the chemicals, photo paper, and equipment for doing so, and then actually take the time to develop the negatives and then make the pictures. I do really like being able to focus the camera myself. It’s nice to be able to make just one part very sharp and the rest more blured which automatic cameras don’t really let you do. Some people may think I’m crazy but I can easily take 200 pictures of a rosebush on a whim which would be absurd and impossible for someone of my funds to do with actual film. And anyway, I’m more interested in making desktop pictures for my computer with my photos than making scrapbooks, so I don’t exactly need to have them all actually printed out.
I am always on the lookout for beauty. My eyes home in on it everywhere I go. That is what makes life livable, being able to appreciate beauty. Now beauty is not limited to sight, there is beauty in movement and sound and touch and taste and smell and in the meanings of words (poetry, stories, philosophic ideas) and in the goodness of other people. There is beauty everywhere if you will look for it, though certainly there is a great deal of ugliness in the world which one must look past to find the beauty hidden amongst it. So all this will tell you my philosophy of photography which is that my aim is to capture images of beauty, images of things one can enjoy now in real life, but which being unable to truely repeat, would nevetheless wish to be able to enjoy again - which a picture allows you to do to some extent.
I have always found it most ridiculous that people should take most of their pictures of other people more as documentation than in captureing their beauty. In particular vacation pictures usually strike me as exceedingly stupid the way that most people seem to take them. Usually they are composed thus : someone is standing in the forground often squinting because at least they know it is better not to be backlit, and holding a cheesy, fixed sort of smile on their face which usually has a good deal of ‘I’m tierd, will you hurry up and take this picture’ in it, and behind them is some monument, place of natural beauty, hotel where they slept, restaraunt where they ate, or museum they went in being partially covered by the person who stands so dutifully in front of it to prove they were there, or for no other reason but that that is what one does for vacation pictures. What comes of it is that usually you have a good picture of neither the perseon nor the place they are at. It is trying to have two focal points really, and ends up as often as not as having none. These are usually terribly composed being either too ridgidly centered or too haphazard with no attention payed to what is really going on visually, just simply making sure that the two items are both inside the little rectangle. Often the person does not appear to be interacting with or connected to the place in the background, and they almost never appear to fit in with their surroundings as though they belong there, rather clashing in their appearance.
All my life whenever I have been on vacation I have been somewhat at odds with my mother, or other people, because I am always wanting them to get out of the way so I can take a picture. I pretty much take only pictures of scenery. When I do take pictures of people I want to take a picture of them specifically and do not want them to ‘go stand over there in front of that place so I can take a picture of it.’ I want it close up enough to be able to really see the person’s features, either that or I want to catch them in an action or position which captures their character or which looks particularly nice or interesting. However, it is usual for people to be too selfconcious of how they will look in pictures and either refuse to have their picture taken at all, espeically close up, or to suddenly feel so awkward that they loose whatever personality there was in their expression or pose and adopt a stiff, unnatural look and stance (or make some kind of a wierd face) and in so doing present their worst angle to the camera.
In general I don’t mind having my picture taken (unlike many people I know who like to take pictures partly because that means they are behind the camera). I really don’t like having to do the cheesy smile pictures though, they hardly turn out flattering. I’m no good at ‘silly’ shots either, I just don’t makes faces; well, I make plenty of faces for different occasions, like smelling burnt tuna, trying to figure out something that my mind doesn’t want to wrap itself around, being vexed at something that is not cooperating (sewing machines, school registrars' assistants, people that insist you have to wear shoes, items that like to hide themselves at the moment they are needed...) I think I can be quite expressive, but when you ask me to make some kind of face at the camera I just go blank, I can’t think of a face to make, and it’s just not me to make a faces. Often if I ask someone to take a picture of me somewhere they end up standing there waiting for some time, I guess thinking I’m distracted or composing myself or something just because I’m not looking at them, or not smiling. Somehow most people just don’t even think about taking a piture of someone who is not facing them with a smile.
Well I guess I have rambled about taking pitures long enough. I think some of this is a bit repetative, but oh well.