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Saturday, December 13, 2003
It's Christmas i-in Mint Manor
and the hou-use i-is full of goils
Merry Christmas every-body
Merry Christmas everyooooooooooone!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:43 AM | shower me with attention
and the hou-use i-is full of goils
Merry Christmas every-body
Merry Christmas everyooooooooooone!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:43 AM | shower me with attention
Friday, December 12, 2003
PAPER WRITTEN!
::collapses in a heap::
Only nine Color-Aid exercises, one art final, on Latin take-home quiz, FIFTY MILLION HOURS OF MEMORIZING LATIN, and one Latin final to go!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:46 PM | shower me with attention
::collapses in a heap::
Only nine Color-Aid exercises, one art final, on Latin take-home quiz, FIFTY MILLION HOURS OF MEMORIZING LATIN, and one Latin final to go!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:46 PM | shower me with attention
Thursday, December 11, 2003
I'm 40 pages from being done with this book, but I'm done. Maybe I'll give the last chapter a glance tomorrow, but I can't stand it anymore.
It's too bad, because hillbillies* are fun to read about when you're not slogging through the prosaic mire of someone who's so obviously impressed with her own vocabulary.** Every paragraph begins with "imagine" or "picture"; I can't NOT hear the narrator of The Living Seas ("Try to imagine, just for a moment...") And you can't go more than a few lines without encountering run-on sentences from hell, stuffed with jargon until your eyes cross, or else lists upon lists of what I make out to be freakin' synonyms. Just use one word. Say it once.
Also, the author expects all of her readers to be practiced semioticians? That I ain't. I have a vague recollection of the most basic premises of semiotics from Val Daniels' class (FIVE years ago?!) but she doesn't bother to offer any background, just plunges into this whole gap-between-signifier-and-signified thing. Which is the crux of her entire thesis, may I add, so it makes things a little sticky for us dullards.
None of this is going into my paper, of course, which is why I had to vent. Other than that, the book isn't entirely painful to read. I'm just plumb tired of it is all.
But, on the upside, if I skip the last two chapters, I think I can get that paper started tomorrow.
*NOT the proper ethnological term.
**Who can spot the irony in this sentence?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:45 PM | shower me with attention
It's too bad, because hillbillies* are fun to read about when you're not slogging through the prosaic mire of someone who's so obviously impressed with her own vocabulary.** Every paragraph begins with "imagine" or "picture"; I can't NOT hear the narrator of The Living Seas ("Try to imagine, just for a moment...") And you can't go more than a few lines without encountering run-on sentences from hell, stuffed with jargon until your eyes cross, or else lists upon lists of what I make out to be freakin' synonyms. Just use one word. Say it once.
Also, the author expects all of her readers to be practiced semioticians? That I ain't. I have a vague recollection of the most basic premises of semiotics from Val Daniels' class (FIVE years ago?!) but she doesn't bother to offer any background, just plunges into this whole gap-between-signifier-and-signified thing. Which is the crux of her entire thesis, may I add, so it makes things a little sticky for us dullards.
None of this is going into my paper, of course, which is why I had to vent. Other than that, the book isn't entirely painful to read. I'm just plumb tired of it is all.
But, on the upside, if I skip the last two chapters, I think I can get that paper started tomorrow.
*NOT the proper ethnological term.
**Who can spot the irony in this sentence?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:45 PM | shower me with attention
I've an unpleasant, soapy taste in my mouth.
Felt like sharing.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:12 PM | shower me with attention
Felt like sharing.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:12 PM | shower me with attention
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Ha ha! Simone from Head of the Class is on Law and Order now... and she got old!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:33 PM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:33 PM | shower me with attention
A Christmas far more glorious than grand...
I have dim memories of watching Mr Magoo's Christmas Carol when I was a kid. My mom loves it because she used to watch it with Tante Joan when they were kids. I'm taping it now off the Cartoon Network, and I'm marveling at how wonderfully straightforward it is. I think this is the first version of this story I ever saw, before even Mickey's Christmas Carol. And it's a pretty good telling.
And I'm really digging the art, too. That retro 60's animation gets groovier and groovier as I age.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:25 PM | shower me with attention
I have dim memories of watching Mr Magoo's Christmas Carol when I was a kid. My mom loves it because she used to watch it with Tante Joan when they were kids. I'm taping it now off the Cartoon Network, and I'm marveling at how wonderfully straightforward it is. I think this is the first version of this story I ever saw, before even Mickey's Christmas Carol. And it's a pretty good telling.
And I'm really digging the art, too. That retro 60's animation gets groovier and groovier as I age.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:25 PM | shower me with attention
Oh my GOD, CAPTAIN TRIPPS!!!
Don't breathe on me, you sick people!
Okay, actually, I'm really scared of this. Not just because I've read The Stand, but because since about 2 years ago, I've become very aware of the reality of my own and my loved ones' mortalities, and it seems entirely plausible to me that my 66-year-old father, or asthmatic mother, or someone else I love with a weak immune system, lungs or heart, could get the flu and die.
Also, yesterday something terrifying happened, in which my father and I finished watching his favourite movie, I puttered around getting ready for school, and suddenly out of nowhere he was struck by an unprecedented (at least in my experience with him) attack of aphasia. Scared the holy crap out of me. It was like talking to a stroke victim. He lost his words. He had never lost his words before, far as I knew. I called my mom up in a panic and she had to talk to him and then comfort me. Apparently this has happened before. Well, no one told me about it. It scared the fucking holy crap out of me. So, therefore, I need my dad to get a CAT scan right this second, and I also need him to stay inside and away from all sick people.
Whew, panic attack, this is nice. Why all the panic attacks lately? Am I going insane? I was so stable. Ha ha. Well, but really, I was.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:51 PM | shower me with attention
Don't breathe on me, you sick people!
Okay, actually, I'm really scared of this. Not just because I've read The Stand, but because since about 2 years ago, I've become very aware of the reality of my own and my loved ones' mortalities, and it seems entirely plausible to me that my 66-year-old father, or asthmatic mother, or someone else I love with a weak immune system, lungs or heart, could get the flu and die.
Also, yesterday something terrifying happened, in which my father and I finished watching his favourite movie, I puttered around getting ready for school, and suddenly out of nowhere he was struck by an unprecedented (at least in my experience with him) attack of aphasia. Scared the holy crap out of me. It was like talking to a stroke victim. He lost his words. He had never lost his words before, far as I knew. I called my mom up in a panic and she had to talk to him and then comfort me. Apparently this has happened before. Well, no one told me about it. It scared the fucking holy crap out of me. So, therefore, I need my dad to get a CAT scan right this second, and I also need him to stay inside and away from all sick people.
Whew, panic attack, this is nice. Why all the panic attacks lately? Am I going insane? I was so stable. Ha ha. Well, but really, I was.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:51 PM | shower me with attention
Margins are for scribbling in.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:56 PM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:56 PM | shower me with attention
Ignore the bad sound quality (it's a live performance) and go enjoy the upbeat whimsy of Jordan Cooper's "Bow Tie Guy".
I love this song.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:12 PM | shower me with attention
I love this song.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:12 PM | shower me with attention
The good: I finally declared my major. I should have declared it 45 credits ago, but whaddyagonna do. So I am officially an anthropology major/studio art minor.
The bad: I'm gonna need FOUR semesters of Latin to graduate, not three like you would with other languages. That's 16 credits. At the end of this semester I will have 4. At the end of next semester (when I WOULD be graduating if I had all language credits), I will have 8.
Which means: I will be in this school until Spring 2005. ::cue scary DOOM chords-- DUM DUM DUMMMMM::
UNLESS: I find another CUNY school that offers intensive intermediate Latin over the summer.
IN WHICH CASE: I will take it and graduate in the spring as planned, or at the latest in September.
So I'll just have to do that.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:48 PM | shower me with attention
The bad: I'm gonna need FOUR semesters of Latin to graduate, not three like you would with other languages. That's 16 credits. At the end of this semester I will have 4. At the end of next semester (when I WOULD be graduating if I had all language credits), I will have 8.
Which means: I will be in this school until Spring 2005. ::cue scary DOOM chords-- DUM DUM DUMMMMM::
UNLESS: I find another CUNY school that offers intensive intermediate Latin over the summer.
IN WHICH CASE: I will take it and graduate in the spring as planned, or at the latest in September.
So I'll just have to do that.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:48 PM | shower me with attention
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
If a personal shout-out on a permanent medium containing my television show of all time wasn't enough to restore my Christmas spirit, I got the following email from Andrew. It brought me back some of my magic. The last line is particularly priceless, in classic Andrew Byro style.
Well, it's not a TV movie, but I hope it's good enoug.(sic) It's attached, but I also copied it below for ease of reading.
Andrew
Tavie's Christmas Special
Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Octavia Phillips, but Tavie to her friends, thank you. Every year come Christmas time, Tavie would celebrate unending for a month and a half, culminating in an ultimate expression of joy on Christmas day itself. This was because as a child, some of her happiest memories were of Christmas time, and while today it is often forgotten in all the presents and fox specials, Tavie truly believed in the spirit of Christmas- expressing love to those you love and receiving it in turn from others.
One year, however, Tavie was very sad. She had many problems and was trying to fix them all, and there just didn't seem to be time for Christmas spirit. She had had an argument with one of her oldest childhood friends, she had exams to worry about, people bothered her every day for commitments that she knew weren't really important, she didn't feel happy about her body, and on top of everything else, it seemed impossible to be able to get gifts for everyone. She miserably looked forward to a very unhappy Christmas this year, and possibly in years following as well.
One day while she had free time, Tavie decided to go into Macy's and see if there was anything that she could afford. She looked around, found that she didn't have enough money for anything, and decided to watch the little kids sit on Santa's lap. When she arrived, the line stretched almost out the store. When she looked up at Santa, remembering how much she had once loved this time of year, she was shocked to find that Santa was looking directly down at her. Feeling a little worried, she started to move away, until Santa motioned her to hold still. He finished up with the child on his lap, then whispered into the ear of a nearby elf. The elf ran down to Tavie and explained that Santa had specifically requested the honor of her time for a few moments, and that if she felt it a waste that it would be refunded to her.
Not sure what that meant, but still having much time on her hands, Tavie followed the Elf up the small artificial hill to Santa. Santa smiled, ho-hoed and patted his lap.
"Young Lady, I was listening to a Christmas wish when I caught sight of you. If I may say, you look very unhappy and not at all in the Christmas spirit. Why don't you have a seat and tell me what's the matter?"
Well, Tavie was still a little concerned, but didn't see any harm in it, and so sat down.
"Now what seems to be the problem?" Santa asked.
Tavie looked up into his eyes, saw the genuine kindness that lay there and before she knew it, her tongue started moving for her, and started pouring out her woes, coming close to tears by the end.
Santa listened patiently, nodding all the while, until at last she finished.
"Listen." He said. "Your problem is that you've forgotten the true meaning of Christmas. It's not just the love at Christmas time, it's love all year round. And you have to be patient sometimes and love other people. And above all else, you have to love yourself. Loving other people is hard sometimes, but it is the most wonderful, rewarding thing that there is. Love yourself, and other people, and everything will work out. Because when you love other people, you should know that they love you too, and will show it any way that they can."
Tavie was caught dumbstruck a moment then nodded. It was true. It all made sense. Leaning over, she planted a kiss on Santa's cheek. Santa laughed heartily as she got up to leave.
"One moment, please. Don't you want your present?" Santa asked. Santa pulled over a large red bag and reached into it. Expecting the usual Macy's coupons, Tavie was surprised when a small gift-wrapped package was brought out and handed to her. Santa winked and made her promise not to open it until Christmas. As she left, Santa called out "Merry Christmas Tavie, and I look forward to seeing you next year. Ho ho ho!"
It wasn't until she was a block away that Tavie stopped and blinked. She hadn't once mentioned her name the entire time. How had he...?
Tavie went home that night a different woman. She called and made up with her childhood friend, knowing that friends can sometimes test one another's patience and hurt one another but still loved each other. She contacted her friends and asked them to give her some time to work on things and they were all more than happy to do so. Before Christmas when she saw them all, she apologized that she had nothing to give them but a card or a picture that she had drawn for them, and all exclaimed over how wonderful their gift was and how happy they were. Tavie also felt better about herself and no longer felt the need to eat when she was depressed, or was depressed when she ate, and quickly became the woman that she imagined herself to be on the outside, as well as the inside.
On Christmas morning, when nobody else was awake, Tavie went to the small Christmas tree in her apartment and took out one small gift-wrapped package. Inside were a whole array of knitting needles and several balls of what were marked "Cashmere." Inside was also a small blank card, which inside only read "Merry Christmas, Tavie. –Santa"
Surprised, Tavie vowed to keep the Christmas spirit every day of the year for the rest of her life.
Of course, Tavie shouldn't really have been all that surprised. After all, everybody knows that the real Santa is at Macy's…
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:41 PM | shower me with attention
Well, it's not a TV movie, but I hope it's good enoug.(sic) It's attached, but I also copied it below for ease of reading.
Andrew
Tavie's Christmas Special
Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Octavia Phillips, but Tavie to her friends, thank you. Every year come Christmas time, Tavie would celebrate unending for a month and a half, culminating in an ultimate expression of joy on Christmas day itself. This was because as a child, some of her happiest memories were of Christmas time, and while today it is often forgotten in all the presents and fox specials, Tavie truly believed in the spirit of Christmas- expressing love to those you love and receiving it in turn from others.
One year, however, Tavie was very sad. She had many problems and was trying to fix them all, and there just didn't seem to be time for Christmas spirit. She had had an argument with one of her oldest childhood friends, she had exams to worry about, people bothered her every day for commitments that she knew weren't really important, she didn't feel happy about her body, and on top of everything else, it seemed impossible to be able to get gifts for everyone. She miserably looked forward to a very unhappy Christmas this year, and possibly in years following as well.
One day while she had free time, Tavie decided to go into Macy's and see if there was anything that she could afford. She looked around, found that she didn't have enough money for anything, and decided to watch the little kids sit on Santa's lap. When she arrived, the line stretched almost out the store. When she looked up at Santa, remembering how much she had once loved this time of year, she was shocked to find that Santa was looking directly down at her. Feeling a little worried, she started to move away, until Santa motioned her to hold still. He finished up with the child on his lap, then whispered into the ear of a nearby elf. The elf ran down to Tavie and explained that Santa had specifically requested the honor of her time for a few moments, and that if she felt it a waste that it would be refunded to her.
Not sure what that meant, but still having much time on her hands, Tavie followed the Elf up the small artificial hill to Santa. Santa smiled, ho-hoed and patted his lap.
"Young Lady, I was listening to a Christmas wish when I caught sight of you. If I may say, you look very unhappy and not at all in the Christmas spirit. Why don't you have a seat and tell me what's the matter?"
Well, Tavie was still a little concerned, but didn't see any harm in it, and so sat down.
"Now what seems to be the problem?" Santa asked.
Tavie looked up into his eyes, saw the genuine kindness that lay there and before she knew it, her tongue started moving for her, and started pouring out her woes, coming close to tears by the end.
Santa listened patiently, nodding all the while, until at last she finished.
"Listen." He said. "Your problem is that you've forgotten the true meaning of Christmas. It's not just the love at Christmas time, it's love all year round. And you have to be patient sometimes and love other people. And above all else, you have to love yourself. Loving other people is hard sometimes, but it is the most wonderful, rewarding thing that there is. Love yourself, and other people, and everything will work out. Because when you love other people, you should know that they love you too, and will show it any way that they can."
Tavie was caught dumbstruck a moment then nodded. It was true. It all made sense. Leaning over, she planted a kiss on Santa's cheek. Santa laughed heartily as she got up to leave.
"One moment, please. Don't you want your present?" Santa asked. Santa pulled over a large red bag and reached into it. Expecting the usual Macy's coupons, Tavie was surprised when a small gift-wrapped package was brought out and handed to her. Santa winked and made her promise not to open it until Christmas. As she left, Santa called out "Merry Christmas Tavie, and I look forward to seeing you next year. Ho ho ho!"
It wasn't until she was a block away that Tavie stopped and blinked. She hadn't once mentioned her name the entire time. How had he...?
Tavie went home that night a different woman. She called and made up with her childhood friend, knowing that friends can sometimes test one another's patience and hurt one another but still loved each other. She contacted her friends and asked them to give her some time to work on things and they were all more than happy to do so. Before Christmas when she saw them all, she apologized that she had nothing to give them but a card or a picture that she had drawn for them, and all exclaimed over how wonderful their gift was and how happy they were. Tavie also felt better about herself and no longer felt the need to eat when she was depressed, or was depressed when she ate, and quickly became the woman that she imagined herself to be on the outside, as well as the inside.
On Christmas morning, when nobody else was awake, Tavie went to the small Christmas tree in her apartment and took out one small gift-wrapped package. Inside were a whole array of knitting needles and several balls of what were marked "Cashmere." Inside was also a small blank card, which inside only read "Merry Christmas, Tavie. –Santa"
Surprised, Tavie vowed to keep the Christmas spirit every day of the year for the rest of her life.
Of course, Tavie shouldn't really have been all that surprised. After all, everybody knows that the real Santa is at Macy's…
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:41 PM | shower me with attention
How my day improved a hundredfold:
As I was coming out of Latin class, I saw a message on my cell phone. It was from Tara (who is coming to Mint Manor this weekend, and so is Nicole!). Tara was watching her Kids in the Hall Season One DVD, and she said, she said that Dave mentions me in the audio commentary!
And then she played the bit. It was a little hard to make out, but I think it had something about me telling people to listen to the audio commentary.
Which, duh, I will now-- to listen for my name! Because no one would have listened to it otherwise.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:33 PM | shower me with attention
As I was coming out of Latin class, I saw a message on my cell phone. It was from Tara (who is coming to Mint Manor this weekend, and so is Nicole!). Tara was watching her Kids in the Hall Season One DVD, and she said, she said that Dave mentions me in the audio commentary!
And then she played the bit. It was a little hard to make out, but I think it had something about me telling people to listen to the audio commentary.
Which, duh, I will now-- to listen for my name! Because no one would have listened to it otherwise.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:33 PM | shower me with attention
FUCK! I'm going to have to start memorizing principle parts!
My mind is not CAPABLE of retaining that much information!
FUCKING FUTURE TENSE! I HATE YOU, I HAVE HATED YOU, I WILL HATE YOU!!!!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:46 PM | shower me with attention
My mind is not CAPABLE of retaining that much information!
FUCKING FUTURE TENSE! I HATE YOU, I HAVE HATED YOU, I WILL HATE YOU!!!!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:46 PM | shower me with attention
I haven't gotten a thing read, or printed out, or painted, or cut-and-glued, or written today. Nothing that will tie up the loose academic ends that comprise the remainder of the semester.
I spent the entire day sitting on the couch, watching tv and knitting that Christmas present (that I can't talk about because the intended recipient reads this.)
My priorities are completely wacky, and at the rate I'm going, I'll be working straight up until December 23rd, completely using up the Christmas season.
Furthermore, my sinuses have exploded and the Benadryl I took to fix them last night has sucked all of the moisture out of my body (except for the stuff dripping down my nose.)
Someone has to write a tv movie about how I regain my Christmas spirit.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:49 PM | shower me with attention
I spent the entire day sitting on the couch, watching tv and knitting that Christmas present (that I can't talk about because the intended recipient reads this.)
My priorities are completely wacky, and at the rate I'm going, I'll be working straight up until December 23rd, completely using up the Christmas season.
Furthermore, my sinuses have exploded and the Benadryl I took to fix them last night has sucked all of the moisture out of my body (except for the stuff dripping down my nose.)
Someone has to write a tv movie about how I regain my Christmas spirit.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:49 PM | shower me with attention
Monday, December 08, 2003
Shee rites gud.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:27 PM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:27 PM | shower me with attention
Wow. What with that paper I had to write on the Yale Nude Olympics back in '99, and now with these reports of decadence, my conception of that venerated university is that Everyone At Yale is Naked.
Picture it.
If it helps, Stephen Trask lives in New Haven because his (naked) husband teaches there.
Yale is a naked, naked place.
In that vein, here at this decidedly un-Yale-like university, I just witnessed two young people tangled together on a couch in a shadow-y rest area where I was finishing up reading the last of the first ethnography. At first glance, they merely appeared to be napping together. Upon closer inspection, they were most definitely doing it under their pile of coats. Not intercourse, but certainly they were masturbating one another. It was fascinating and disturbing to witness; the rhythmic jerking movements under the coats, the constant shifting, the way the boy's head kept peeping nervously over the top of the pile. At one point, the girl turned her head and gave me a sly smile, with eye contact. They knew I saw.
People and their sex, I tell ya.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:09 PM | shower me with attention
Picture it.
If it helps, Stephen Trask lives in New Haven because his (naked) husband teaches there.
Yale is a naked, naked place.
In that vein, here at this decidedly un-Yale-like university, I just witnessed two young people tangled together on a couch in a shadow-y rest area where I was finishing up reading the last of the first ethnography. At first glance, they merely appeared to be napping together. Upon closer inspection, they were most definitely doing it under their pile of coats. Not intercourse, but certainly they were masturbating one another. It was fascinating and disturbing to witness; the rhythmic jerking movements under the coats, the constant shifting, the way the boy's head kept peeping nervously over the top of the pile. At one point, the girl turned her head and gave me a sly smile, with eye contact. They knew I saw.
People and their sex, I tell ya.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:09 PM | shower me with attention
Cold cold cold cold cold in this apartment. It's like being outside in heeeeeeeere. Sha-na-na-naaaaa. (Sit, Ubu, sit. Good dog.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:04 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:04 AM | shower me with attention
Oh sweet merriness, winter Knitty is here!
How can I be expected to get any work finished now?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:24 AM | shower me with attention
How can I be expected to get any work finished now?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:24 AM | shower me with attention
My yarn arrived from Sweden! Mr Poofypants, demonic Swedish version of Santa, sent me my beautiful, beautiful yarn! At least the rest of the yarn I needed to make a certain sweater.
Of course, ironically, I'd given up hope and started another project (which I can't discuss because the giftee reads this blog) with the yarn I had, so now I don't have enough yarn for the sweater anyway.
But I don't care, I'm going to start it anyway and worry about that when I run out of yarn. Nighttime Tavie screws over daytime Tavie once again!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:20 AM | shower me with attention
Of course, ironically, I'd given up hope and started another project (which I can't discuss because the giftee reads this blog) with the yarn I had, so now I don't have enough yarn for the sweater anyway.
But I don't care, I'm going to start it anyway and worry about that when I run out of yarn. Nighttime Tavie screws over daytime Tavie once again!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:20 AM | shower me with attention
Sunday, December 07, 2003
