Who films that?

What the hell, people? Why are there over seven hundred videos onYouTube under the search terms "my phone is ringing"? I just wanted to watch/listen to this video. Although I now realize I had the wrong search terms, but that's not the point!

Q. Are We Not Men?

Not my final answer.

I don't like security questions for the same reason I dislike shoe shopping. Not exactly the same reasons, but the core objections are there: commitment to a summary. I wish my being were so simple that it could be distilled into a single pair of New Balance sneakers (and at a reasonable price!) but it is not. Eventually I just gave up trying to think up something witty and decided to focus on not forgetting the original password. Actually, I'm not sure what I oh shit oh shit oh shit...
I kid! I think...

Forest Ninja (photos!)

Photo posts of my recent adventures!


Of my brief foray into Eugene, this is Bruce Campbell stencil is the only picture worth posting.
During my brief expedition to Big 5 I found this gem. That kid will mess you up. He even makes jumping rope look bad-ass. You wouldn't see this kid playing with scented hula hoops, which were rather disappointing by the way.
I shared a bed with this. Yes, it was everything you'd imagine it to be and more.
Though we saw a plethora of elk, deer, and other creatures with haunting eyes along Route 12, this was the closest thing we saw to a bear.
Jesus was present with a sexy Santa Claus and a little Wonder Woman, neither of whom are present in this picture. I also saw a parrot and a banana. Surprisingly, no eagles or sharks.
I don't know who this is, but there was a long line of people wanting his signature. Don't bother trying to tell me, I won't care.
This haircut was so horrible, I had to have a picture.
I am looking forward to this greatly. I was bereaved when I learned he had been there on Saturday. Looking at the cast, I am already in love.

A Sphere of Curiousity

There are worse things to be compared to than a meerkat.

I was talking to a friend late last night, at about that time where I am simultaneously suggestible and cantankerous. She attempted to draw out my inner dialog, imploring me to speak my mind. I refused and retorted that she ought to as well. She then professed that her impressions which fit verbal expression were given confession. I found this admirable and felt a pang of envy. I will never phonate ferociously enough to fit the frequency of my figments. Though I may make effort, it will never be fast enough and there are issues of intelligibility and propriety to consider. I find myself more comfortable in a transcribed medium at times as it allows me more time to collect and filter my volatile mind, although the refinement is arduous. I've spent entirely too much time on this one post alone!

In any case, I've written about (my) ADD before, many times. I had a doctor's appointment earlier this week and I'm feeling a lot better about things now. He wanted me to keep a diary while we try some new things; I've overloaded my moblog a few times with observations.

It was weird. He gave me a little faq sheet about ADHD and one on depression, since it's often comorbid. But that wasn't the weird part. It was the checklist of symptoms, a bill of my greatest insecurities and faults. I felt the omniscient eye of science undressing me. I didn't know whether to be comforted or indignant that I seemed so easily discerned, described, categorized, labeled, and treated. Was I... Am I merely the product of some mental anomaly?

I don't want this blog to be about living with attention deficit disorder, although I can't omit it's influence from my life. I like to think I'm more than that. It's not something I like to share a lot either.

But I have to share this: Patient Voices: A.D.H.D. - The New York Times

The challenges faced by those with A.D.H.D. -- weighing the decision to
take stimulant medication, facing those who doubt your disorder and
adapting to your symptoms -- are daunting and deeply personal. Here, in
their own words, are the stories of adults and children coping with
A.D.H.D.

More Enjoyable Sex

There are a few personal reasons I don't like shopping at Big 5 Sporting Goods, but they are having a sale. Actually, three sales compounded. Yay for holidays!

• It awakens my latent boyscout nature and I instantly wish to go camping/prepare for apocalypse (same problem with REI)
  
• The floor is carpeted
• I see too many things I want, but do not need
  
• I feel too inadequate in my knowledge of sporting and fitnessing to shop there
  
• I am always tempted to ask which of the firearms they sell could pierce a human skull
• A girl I knew in high school works there and I try to avoid people I do not like
  

Currently, I am looking at their fitness orbs, which seem to be on sale as four different products. I really don't know enough to make an informed decision, which is probably fine since I only sit on this one and pretend to be Dwight. I was debating whether it was worth it to go try to differentiate them when I saw this. Now I must go.

WHYS

I love any excuse to mention lawn darts.

I like to go to bed late. This is no secret. There are lots of reasons I do this and one of the sillier ones is that I am a fan of the BBC and OPB Radio switches from some hip music program to the World Service at midnight. Sometimes I'll stay up so late that I catch the start of Morning Edition, which I love even more.

While I'd heard different stories on the World Service that I might have liked to share with the Internets none were compelling enough to warrant trying to navigate through the programmes. Until now.

This is my favorite World Have Your Say topic ever. I really like the guy who grouped neuticals with both war and George W. Bush, whom I contend is not really an idea at all.

High Seas, High Stakes

Of my many feeds, a good proportion of them are devoted to news sites. I can't say I read all the articles, but they are nice to have in case something important happens and they generally make me feel better about myself. This one caught my eye. Sadly, the article does not discuss these pirates and there's nothing about how the crackdown on piracy will affect global warming.

Brain's Up

It will be some time before this reaches theaters, but if possible, I will be attending and I will be taking you with me. I'm still having zombie dreams from going to Zompire. Perhaps I've gone crazy, but I think going to a shooting range could be a fun date activity.

DAWN OF THE DEAD...The Romero Original...Returning Soon To Theaters...In 3-D!?!? -- Ain't It Cool News: The best in movie, TV, DVD, and comic book news.

I couldn't think of a proper integration joke

I was not trying to procrastinate tonight; I promptly quit playing playing with my Orange Box at eight pm and dutifully found my lappy and began to search relevant terms for a paper. But in the process became aware of something that I had to share.

There are many problems with this paper. First, it is due on a day which proves inconvenient to me, so I'll need to have it done early. Next, it is about our personal relationships and involves a great deal of self-disclosure in the process. Finally, I don't know which relationship I'd like to write about. Then there is the tricky question of: Where do you think you will go from here (get closer, stay the same, or come further apart?)

A much easier question would have been, where would you have liked to have gone? I can think of a few places...

There's an alternate assignment if we really don't want to bare our souls to a short, bald divorcer, but I don't think I'll take it. I almost enjoy introspection, as much as that is possible? I don't know what I'm saying.

In any case, I hit the Google and found the website of the author of the Knapp's Relationship Escalation and Termination Model. Woohoo, super interesting. Not really, until you check out his course schedule and you access his powerpoint presentations.

The content is pretty sparse. I've only viewed a few, but enough to reach a conclusion: these are the worst powerpoints I have ever seen. Each slide has more bells, whistles, and honks than Sesame Street. Every bullet gets a ding and every title a whoosh. I'm exaggerating a little, but only so it won't seem so bad if you actually decide to view them. Don't click prematurely either. You wouldn't want to cut short the songs.

Blog rhymes with Clog which is filling The Tubes

I Love Cheesy Poofs by Janene Jewsen

I wasn't planning on making a post today because I thought I was going to go to a party, but it didn't happen. I'm not going to discuss that at this time, but I am rather unhappy with how events have unfolded. We'll leave it at that.

I have some news regarding the belt debacle and I'll get pictures published in a proper post promptly.

The picture above is only the latest of weird images I've seen around campus. I found this wall, with the pop culture icon displayed center slightly askew, juxtaposed with what I assume were independently made with serious inflection more compelling as a whole than any of the pieces could be individually. If that is a pseudonym used by the artist, bravo.

Anyways, a friend recently turned me onto Flight of the Conchords, and, as a recovering "Weird Al" enthusiast, I greatly enjoyed them. I don't wish to spoil anything, but in one song the phrase, "you could be an air hostess in the 60's" is murmured, seductively. Here, just watch it:



So when I saw that Wired had a brief multimedia up about Air Hostesses of Yesteryear I had no choice but to direct you there for illustrative purposes.

A Representative Sample

I like to imagine that jeperody is a state of peril where the risk is more comical than injurious.

I'm a pretty big fan of Jeopardy!, but I'm not sure how I feel about Jeperody!!

Wired's How-To Covers Zombie Survival Scenarios

I don't have much to say about this (Max Brooks covered pretty much everything) but that doesn't make it any less required reading.

Survive a Zombie Apocalypse - Wired How-To Wiki

Citation Needed

I went on a rant earlier with a friend about how Wikipedia is, with few exception, representative of the popular consensus and for this reason is generally reliable, although as a dynamic document still unfit to cite. I use Wikipedia a lot, perhaps an unhealthy amount, to a augment my knowledge. Really, it's more like refilling a cup with a hole in it. I use to check out movies before I see them (because I lurve spoilers) and then again after, which is a really weird habit in retrospect. I spent at least an hour reading about zombie movies yesterday morning, you know, because of the Zompire thing. It's a good thing my phone isn't powerful enough to surf, or I'd get some sort of thumb-cramp typing terms into a search box, although I could get that from copious texting anyway. But really, Wikipedia is like having a phone-a-friend with someone who's significantly smarter than the rest of your friends.

However.

There is one topic I've found Wikipedia to be chronically unreliable and that is the world of jazz musicians. Because Wikipedia is dependent on the enthusiasm of its community certain topics are bound to receive more attention than others according to individuals interest. While anyone can edit Wikipedia, it takes a certain degree of commitment to learn the formatting rules and style regulations necessary to create a page that won't receive a speedy delete or an equally grisly fate. Perhaps there aren't many Wikipedians interested in Jazz or it's a low priority or any number of reasons. I stopped trying to use Wikipedia for a biographies of jazz musicians some time ago; there are just so many and such frequent collaboration that it seems unreasonable to expect them to have a detailed discographies and a biographies for anyone but the most influential musicians. And then you have local and regional musicians and so on...

Anyways, local musicians. I just did a wikipedia search for one of my favorite jazz composer/pianist/vocalist since I was listening to one of his songs and it seems, if I am to believe Wikipedia, that he is currently a Portland resident. Now I really want to track down Mr. Frishberg and get him to sign my copy of School House Rock!

----------------
Now playing: Dave Frishberg - Z's
via FoxyTunes

Another Undead Post (Now with less links!)

I only just now learned that Facebook has a character limit for their wall posts. This is unfortunate because I composed a post of epic quality (and proportions apparently). More unfortunate is how easily you can accidentally lose everything you wrote to your friend because you apparently didn't have the right box selected when you pressed backspace, navigating away in a heap of text and tears. But this time my carefully crafted comment will not be lost to the aether, although they will probably be read less than if I had actually posted in on their wall. Posting it here seems appropriate anyways as my comment was originally a response to a comment she left on this post, but it grew like so many expanding foam animals in a sink.

The Uno is neat. It's like a Segway with half the wheels and twice the douche-factor! And it's so futuristic!

In my prophetic vision of the future, after the undead have destroyed society as we know it, everyone will ride people movers and wear silver jumpsuits. Humanity lives in an technocratic utopia, which is not all it appears to be. Hordes of undead ghouls have forced mankind to form elaborate catacomb filled mega-cities governed by an abusive, authoritarian power and their mysterious unimotocycled constabulary to mandate a communal mindset and suppress dissent. But in one pristine metropolis, one man is about to make a mess of things....

Prometheus, portrayed by Adam Baldwin, has reinvented the laser pistol, a technology forbidden by the oppressive Council. Prometheus's simple life, and hidden in the Union House of Cremains Production and Distribution begins to unravel when his confidant International 4-8818 (Steve Buscemi) is seized for illegal artistic expression and the Council determines that Prometheus's secret scientific transgressions, forbidden love to Gaea (Zooey Deschanel), and individualistic ideals threaten to corrupt the collectivist mindset they have created. One voice refuses to be silenced in this stunning, futuristic adaptation of Ayn Rand's Anthem. Special guest appearance by Hugo Weaving.

I'm actually kind of glad FaceSpace ate my first draft which just a series of run-on sentences describing a ridiculous (and awesome) chase sequence where Adam Baldwin is pursued by some sort of super-secret soldiers across the megalopolis entirely on Unos with Zooey Deschanel clinging to his back (does the Uno have a back seat?) telling him to Watch out! and generally making things difficult for our hero to both comedic and dramatic effect.

Honestly I didn't care for Anthem when I first read it in ninth grade (mandated), but I actually think this bastardization of the material could work pretty well. Certainly as well as I,Robot did. In my mind, of the aforementioned undead hordes that rise to destroy humanity, the first is Ms. Rand herself as retribution for this idea.

I have mixed feelings towards mandated readings. Towards the end of High School I faked my way through a lot of the readings and I regret that to an extent, depending on the text. Not every book will be as palpable to people as Harry Potter is and then there is the mess of trying to decide the moral and ethical value of the messages a novel contains. That's not even considering the cultural literacy aspect of a novel like Lord of the Flies. You don't want to be that guy who doesn't get the allusion . Although public television in particular, and television in general, are often enough to provide a passing familiarity. Everyone knows Alice fell down a rabbit hole, but no one knows what the hell that damn dodo was talking about. Intentionally, I'm sure.

And there are various degrees of familiarity based on exposure. I can call someone a Boo Radley or Captain Ahab and maybe even an Ender Wiggin and they'll probably (or hopefully) know what I'm talking about but I can't necessarily reference Solanum the way I can Soma and expect someone to understand my intention, although I believe that the novel containing the former was a best seller. I admit, I can't define the parameters of what a best seller is or even ought to be. People often cite the Bible as the best seller, and while I can imagine them being continually printed and distributed, it feels like a misnomer. Maybe my imagination just isn't powerful enough to conjure the staff at Powell's restocking their Bibles. And then the relationship between sales and influence is mysterious as well. Looking through those who's who of literature, I can only claim a few (to my shame) and those that I have I can't say I recall fondly, but I shouldn't make the mistake of ignoring brilliant and revolutionary ideas on account of an authors pedantic, altogether unfamiliar, or otherwise inaccessible writing styles. And just saying a piece of literature was influential, doesn't mean it will be read, even if it is mandated. For example, the Communist Manifesto is on this list of most influential books and wasn't assigned. In fact, of my friends who have read it I know at least one did it purely to seem hip in high school. He also thought it looked amazing as a piece of furniture next to his copy of The Wealth of Nations, the hippness of which I can't recall.

Anyways, I think I've carried this far enough, or even too far. I had planned to conclude with that quote by Mark Twain saying that a classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read.

And then I wonder why that book opposed to others and I get trapped in a case of circular cause and consequence wondering whether a book was assigned because it was important or important because it was signed. I do the same thing with sideburns sometimes too. Do cooler people have sideburns or do sideburns make you cooler? Is the coolness of a pair of sideburns independent of person wearing them???

I don't know man, but it keeps me up at night.

The Promised Pictures

I have mixed feelings towards doing posts like this that are primarily images as I am not a photographer my any stretch and I have trouble filling the gaps and explaining the context. Also, you look really weird whenever you take pictures in public with your phone. It's O.K., folks, I'm a blogger. This is citizen journalism at it's finest.
I don't know what to say. I like duct tape. I made a pair of slippers out of duct tape one time, but my mom threw them away. I was sad for like two days.
I've confessed my love for Amy Adams many times and I was very close to buying one of these coloring books, if only for the gag where I "accidentally" had it mixed in with the other mother's day gifts and then I take it back and am like "whoops" or something. It seemed funnier in my head. Anyways, I'm glad I didn't do it. Also the art really sucked in it.
With the exception of this. Hot.
I knew that once upon a time there existed David Bowie comics, but I was still surprised to see a KISS comic book. I wonder if it ties into their film. I was overcome with curiosity and began flipping through.
The photos are a little blurry, so you can buy it from the publisher here if you want a better image. I'm sure it's well worth it too; just look at the boobs in the next panel!
Don't let the art distract you from the clever dialogs. After you've said the line "He implants chips in us" there really isn't anywhere else to go but an incredibly obtuse euphemism for prostitution: "while we do our...um, thing." I have nothing else to say...
But don't worry. Platinum Studios knows what they're doing. This is a panel from further down the same page. It's a little blurry, but I think I can make out the text: We--We only go by-code names-- He is "Exciter". Also, check out the claws on his giant sausage fingers! There were more boobs and muscle-men fighting later, but I really thought that one page was the moneyshot. Of course, if KISS 4K can't satisfy you you might want to try...
Another Gene Simmons masterpiece! I didn't feel the need to flip through this one; I think the cover pretty much tells the whole story.
I saw these was very tempted to purchase the state of mind that can only come with thorough stool evaluation. It's be a bathroom reader, obviously. The red band on the rightmost book is so you can hang your poop diary from the toilet handle, for your convenience, of course. I'm not sure where you keep your pencil for writing all of your notes:


The pictures inside this pigeon book absolutely blew my mind. The pages were too glossy to capture, but if you see it, take a look for a moment. Pigeon hobbyists (is that the right word?) are at least three times as eccentric as any dog breeder. Unless there is a breed of dog genetically engineered to do backflips and then hunt down raptors to protect their retarded pets, I will never believe otherwise. Plus, you chose pigeons for a pet, so you're already pretty weird to begin with. Just look at how many there are!

Your Beliefs Suck

I didn't sleep very well last night, but I'll get to that. Instead I listened to most of Weekend Edition, which was cute for the holiday, and I sucked at the puzzle, as always. The This I Believe was really stupid though. I mean, I believe in evolution as much as I believe in gravity, perhaps more, but I don't gather any sort of ethical imperative from it. Aside from reproduce with the mate with the the highest possible genetic fitness, of course. While I disagree with Ben Stein's silly Godwin's Law assertion (disclaimer: have not and do not intend to see Expelled) that evolution spawned atheism (PROTIP: morality and theology are not inseparable) and thus the Holocaust or whatever, it is not difficult for me to imagine a regime using a corrupt survival of the fittest rational to justify a doctrine of eugenics. Perhaps for that reason, I was a little put off by the whole essay, or maybe it was that she seemed just so smug to be an paleoanthropologist.

But whatever. It's called This I Believe not Your Beliefs Suck, although I think that would be a great program to listen to, too. Someday, when I decide what I want to believe in (Unicorns!), I plan to submit one, because why not?

The Post That Refused to Die

If you still think zombies are funny you should imagine yourself wrapped in the cold embrace of a putrid ghoul about to devour your brains while your helpless family members look on in a hopeless agony.

Because today is Mother's Day, I spent an inordinate amount of time yesterday shopping for the perfect gift (3+ hours). This could be blamed, in part, on how she is difficult to shop for, but really, I just like to look at stuff. Perhaps I'm just a little naive or sheltered or whatever, but I am always amazed by the sheer diversity of consumer goods. Whoa, they make that? What is that for? Hey, look at that thing! No, that other thing! Oooh, that thing has numbers on it! I don't know why, but I find it highly enjoyable. Plus, I like to roll around on the smooth tile floors. I took some pictures of some of my favorite items for you, the reader! I'll upload these later with some snarky commentary.

I like shopping alone because I can go at my own leisurely pace and take all the detours I'd like without inconveniencing whomever with my impulsive erraticism. I also tend to wander off in stores and that can be a little awkward at times. But I don't really like attending events alone. In my experience events like the Faux Film Festival are enhanced by the presence of a peer. I can recall easily (perhaps painfully so) a time when I won tickets to the Dew Action Sports Tour for being a Glorious Bastard and could find absolutely no one* willing to take the second ticket. Although I try to spin this as a dislike of extreme sports coupled with the short notice I gave the invitation rather than evidence of some hidden and unsavory characteristic(s), I found myself in a similar situation last night (perhaps lending credibility to the later?). While I initially found this quite disturbing, it proved to be a boon as open seats were difficult to find, especially in the dark theater, a trouble which would have been multiplied by multiples (I was able to get an amazing seat during the BMX Park finals at AST because of this issue and a last minute seat at a Blue Man Group concert). I had also been very nervous as I don't usually hold up very well under tense situations or intensely dramatic moments (I stopped watching Desperate Housewives a few years ago to reduce my intrigue intake; also because my then-roommates thought it was too decadent for our sanctuary from sin or whatever). I'm both very jumpy and slightly ticklish; a poor combination (I'm using a lot of parenthetical remarks today) and it is my understanding that horror films are generally best viewed in the company of the fairer sex. So, yeah...

I've written a few times about my fascination with zombies, even writing a rather poor paper on the mythological nature of the undead for an English class (which received the comment "when will they rise???" on a peer review sheet). It is a morbid curiosity and, in actuality, I am rather terrified of zombies and what they represent. Terrified is the wrong word. If I were really concerned with apocalyptic preparedness, I'd have planned and prepared for a Stage 3 Outbreak by now (also probably the whole spirituality thing). Given my Mormon family's emphasis on food storage I think we could handle up to that point although we'd only have melee weapons at our disposal. I've pushed for a domestic firearm for disaster situations, but nothing yet. Maybe I'm more concerned about Z-day than I thought, or it's just a residual affect of scouting.

In any case, once I found out about Zompire, I had to go. Given that my prior experience with zombie film had been Shawn of the Dead, Fido, and the thirty second re-enactment, I wasn't sure what to expect. I know it should be more given how much I liked World War Z (a must read!) and everything, but I believe I've mentioned both the mild stigma I feel watching movies alone (supposing they can hold my attention long enough to finish) and that I'm kind of a huge baby, but not like that. I don't actively avoid watching movies alone, although it is always preferable with company, but I'm not sure I will ever be able to shake the image of my father watching Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants alone in his room when no one else would join him. It still strikes me as all sorts of weird (even after hearing him ask my mother if a certain pair of jeans "made his butt look fat") and remains a pinnacle of pitiful that sadly remains married to the thought of solo film delectation.

Anyways, I ended up going alone and I staved off my apprehension through compulsive text messaging. So-much-so that my mobile blog was flagged by a security feature meant to prevent blog spam and reduce server stress through use of a captcha, which I can't do from my phone. The timer has expired so I can once enjoy my mobile post masturbation (yay for text message post delivery confirmation!). Luckily, a majority of the short films were lighthearted, comedic, and even satirical. Did I mention weird? They were all weird. A couple were incredibly gripping, and most all were entertaining, though there were a few others which were trying hard to be something, with various levels of success. You can tell from some of the directors' comment on the festival's website how lofty a metaphor they think their zombies can stand, hobble, and moan for. Example:

Burying the Ex is a metaphor for a seemingly ever-present ex-girlfriend or ex-boyfriend and the baggage we must deal with when a relationship comes to an end. In Burying the Ex even the grave can't hold a jilted lover who's learned that their ex has found someone new...

That's not fair, because I kind of enjoyed that one (Danielle Harris is a very attractive woman) and it had the kid from Freaks and Geeks. These (figurative) zombies elicited more groans of horror than screams of fright, but that could not be said of the 2004 remake of Dawn of the Dead, which I enjoyed, but Oh God, why are they running? Oh God, they aren't supposed to be running! Make them stop! Ahhh! For the record, I never actually screamed and no one can prove otherwise. My only regret, besides arriving slightly late, was that I was not able to watch the entirety of Wasting Away (stupid public transit schedules!) and it will be difficult to procure.

Anyways, that is why I did not sleep well last night. Also, I didn't get home until 2 am and then Liane Hansen woke me up at the ungodly hour of 6 am.

*That I wanted to hang out with.

Sexy Ribbit

Every year my mother has asked for a the same thing for Mother's Day: a clean and peaceful home. She has never once received it. This year, she gave up and told us not to get her anything, but I'm pretty certain that she'd still enjoy those things if they could be managed and is just preparing to marginalize her disappointment. While it's obvious I can't influence my siblings to do good things, I ought to clean a little to maintain my most favored child status. While I'm not a naturally tidy person, I actually kind of like picking up things, putting things away, looking at things, and occasionally vacuuming, but I absolutely loath scrubbing things (strangely dishes more than toilets). My solution to laundry is just to own a ridiculous amount of clothes. Today cleaning was especially rewarding. It's not quite as good as my brother's homework, but it still made me laugh (sexy frog!).

Please contact me if you find any of the frogs' missing limbs.

I'm not sure why she chose frogs to doodle in what I assume to be a very boring health class. I doubt she was trying to rift off some sort of sperm-tadpole-frog motif. Maybe she was trying to be ironic? Oh. Now it's not so funny anymore. Dammit...

OK Go

I should probably go through and tag all my past blog posts that deal with ADHD now that I've realized I have so many.

I haven't written as much recently, a fact I've acknowledged, as I've found myself in an entirely unexpected situation: having somewhat of a social life. As you know, this is diametrically opposed to the blogosphere. In any case, there have a few things I've been meaning to write about that I simply haven't, but I think the time has come.

I just reread an essay I wrote a year and a half ago (has it been so long?). Why am I mentioning it? Firstly, because I think it's a damn fine piece of creative nonfiction and probably one of my best assigned works. Although, I think it really needs a follow-up and could use a few edits (especially links for the blog post). Second, because it relates to what I want to discuss. Doping. Sorta. Not really. Whatever.

A few weeks ago, Wired (anagram of weird!) did a few pieces on brain enhancing medications. I made a note to write about them later (see: procrastination). This was also about the same time they ran those terrible profiles of people at ROFLCon, for which they may never redeem themselves. At first, I was a little appalled that they seemed to be condoning the abuse of the medical system, which is arguably broken. I should also disclose that at this time, and until perhaps recently, I had sworn off prescription medications to manage my attention-deficit disorder. The context for this must be explained:

Wait, I'm not sure I've ever mentioned this before on here. Maybe I have. I continue...

I stopped taking medications sometime last fall (I think mid-September) for multiple reasons. This was right after my girlfriend of four-years broke up with me and I had decided I did not wish to return to BYU-Idaho, but had not put in a transfer application in time to anywhere else (since fixed; yay!). I saw this as an opportunity to for introspection, self-evaluation, and so on. Find out who I really am, beneath it all. That sort of thing. If you really want more background, I think I wrote about the decision here, here, and here.

I think I've reached some conclusions. First of all, I really love Mountain Dew. Secondly, my 4.0, although at a community college, attests that I can still function academically in my liber state to some degree. This was something I was very worried about. A dependency on a medication? Like some sort of freak? That was a joke, really.

That essay, which feels so ancient now with all this new perspective, mentions that I can talk excessively for periods. Take notice, please, that there is actually a word for verbal diarrhea. This isn't a problem when you've no one to talk to but becomes a significant issue when you text your friend's girlfriend in disbelief that he had just let slip how just how affectionate she was, or something similar to that sequence of events because you can't really recall exactly what happened because everyone started yelling and you didn't understand why, or when you write run-on sentences in blogger. Yeah, I actually did that. I can't use the emoticon =/ hard enough.

While this was probably (hopefully?) the worst thing I've done like that (although I can't be certain), it was not the first and I intend to make it the last. Ooo, dramatic.

It's Never Schistosomiasis

I really feel that this image is entirely self-explanatory.

Oooh! ScribeFire has updated! Fancy! Maybe this will cure my blog-lag (unlikely).

Mondays have become the second best night of television, which makes my families attempts at Family Home Evening a little awkward. I mean, I know the Dr. House will solve the case at 42 minutes, but that doesn't make it less exciting (except on dvd). We were going to try to eat the durian I gave my brother for his birthday for tonights lesson, but Doctor House was on the case (also Big Bang Theory and How I Met Your Mother).

I really like this update. It is very nice. Except the text size buttons are backwards, but I'm getting distracted.

So, umm, there's this thing I do. I like to think it's quirky, but it's really more eccentric. I'll try to explain it without sounding bonkers:

When my little sister was little(r), she had some sort of intestinal parasite and we all had to take some sort of antibiotic or something to be sure that we hadn't caught it as well. I'm not really sure, it was a long time ago and all I really remember about what I've grown to call The Buttworms Incident was taking a large pill at bedtime and my mother describing seeing the worms wiggle in my sister's stools. Chilling.

I believe I've made other posts about parasites before, but these really freaked me out. To this day, I will still peer down to make sure my defecations aren't wriggling. Also color and consistency. I joke about that last part.Mostly. Anyways, it's always bothered me that I had no idea what this parasite was called. I have now come to believe that they are pinworms. Knowing is half the battle. The other half is defecating?

BROTHER SMASH!!!

I was really hoping he'd flip it all the way over; am I a bad person?

So my brother had a grade A freak-out today. I normally wouldn't care because I find him annoying and quarrelsome, so I try to avoid him and his affairs as much as possible, but I was the only one available to pick him up from his half-day two-day suspension. At one point the principal offered to have a deputy escort him off premises, an offer I found very tempting as an older sibling. The whole event was mildly embarrassing and awkward, but I kept reminding myself that I'm just a sibling and that I did similar things as a child. I found this very interesting though:

Is that...

Yes, it is a Hannah Montana educational cd!! I didn't get a chance to take a look at it because of the screaming and pouting and whatever. I'm a little impressed that I was able to find a moment to snap the picture undetected at all actually (why must my phone make that retarded shutter sound?). Perhaps on another day in which Bruce and myself are in a more amicable setting I will ask him his opinion of Miss Cyrus. Or not. I really don't like being a parent, even by proxy.