The case of the mistaken identity

A lot of stuff happened yesterday, none of which I can remember.
Well, I suppose I remember being cold (really cold) and I do remember walking around a lot (really a lot) but a lot of conversation passed between me and Garrett and I'm really sad to say I can't think of one thing we said.

I know that at one point we determined our MO but I don't remember what it is. It had something to do with being really indecisive and riding the TTC all night. Some MO, eh?
I know that we went into 3 Tim Hortons, not including the other 6 that he went into earlier that day, looking for a soup to my liking. Of course, we didn't find one.
I know that we went to go see Tron in IMAX 3-D but tickets cost 20 bucks each and neither of us were willing to shell out that kind of gold to see a semi-shitty movie. What does Cineplex think anyway? Do they want me to sell my organs just so I can see movies?

(I bet that Cineplex employees are all patients waiting for organ transplants and in order for them to get a new heart valve they gotta charge 20 bucks a ticket. And some suckers fall for that. Not me.)

Anyway, last night was very productively non-productive (unproductively productive?). It was just nice cruisin' around downtown Toronto, looking for trouble, just two regular teenagers (not even) letting the wind blow them through life.

If anyone knows where this comes from, you'll understand what I'm getting at.

I'm baking brownies (again) because the last batch was burnt.
baking brownies because batch was burnt (in bold). I love alliterations. My brother and his girlfriend are coming over to steal some. How rude.

So, you know that old saying "time heals all wounds"? I think it must be true. At least, that's what I think this weekend is trying to tell me.

I feel satisfied, in my soul, because of the last two days. It's not something I'm feeling in my head or in my stomach or in my bones but in my actual soul. It's not tangible and I can't find words to describe it. It's just this nice feeling, somewhere inside, of total and utter completion. It's a good thing, in any rate.

Ok, so you know how if you say something way to many times it starts to lose meaning and literally just becomes a sound? Say "in any rate" a bunch of times and you start to realize that it's a pretty illogical sentence. Like, "it's a good thing, in gold", "it's a good thing, in Quatloos", "it's a good thing, in Imperial credit"?

Also, I know a lot of people have heard this rant before but it's just something I was thinking about earlier and it got me all worked up so I'm going to blog about it. It all begins with a certain Harvey Dent who, despite his brains, believes that the best way to solve the Batman problem is to pretend that he is The Batman. Does anyone here see a major issue with this? I'm going to show y'all a picture of Mr. Dent and The Batman and you tell me what's wrong.

                                                      Harvey Dent

                                          
The Batman


Yes, you've got it! HARVEY HAS A DENT ON HIS FACE. 
ON HIS CHIN, THERE IS A BUTT.
There once was a man from Gotham City
Whose plan, in my opinion, was quite shitty
He pretended to be Batman
But backfire did his big plan
And now he's got half of a face


I just tucked my mama into bed and we talked about literally interpreting the names of fruits and veggies.
Examples:
Mushroom literally means mushy room.
Pine apple is an apple that tastes like gin.
Egg plant is exactly that...an egg plant.
And the weirdest one of all:
Strawberries....well, that just isn't appetizing!
I wish I was Gary Larson cause I'd totally cartoon the shit of out this!

I'm having breakfast with my Pa and my Bubbie (grandmother) tomorrow so I have to go to bed RIGHT NOW. Wakey time is at 8! Can you believe that?!

Oh, and please check out http://damnyouautocorrect.com

Goodnight, sweet dreams!

-Beege

Just a regular comedian over here.....

Don't you hate it when food determines your mood for an entire day? Like, if you're at a vending machine and the thing you want gets stuck (or isn't available) and for the rest of the day you're just in this really bad mood.
Ugh, that's the worst.

I totally understand Sam's "is this healthy for me" predicament. Except the whole "is plum sauce good for me?" part. No, Sam, it's not. But fresh vegetable, protein and smiles are good for you.
You big jerk. Why'd you just stare at me like that? You a mute?
It was weird. At Metro today he just stared at me, with this smile on his face, like he knew I was there but he didn't want to say anything because I had broccoli stuck in my teeth or something.
Ugh, that's the worst.
And yes, I mean having shit stuck in your teeth and when your room mate creepily ignores you in a public setting.

You know who gets seriously affected by food? Drake.








Which is really weird, if you think about it, because this means he really wants to have sex with a tuna?!
Ugh, that's just gross.

 Frostwire's back, even though I could've sworn he'd taken some time off. So to scare him off I'm going to do the one thing he can't stand: sleep! That's right, Frosty, whatcha gonna do now?


Wish me luck!
-Berk

King James IV visited me last night and offered me a sandwich............

According to my Grade 10 self, sandwich is synonomous with sex. If you really think about it, or pay attention (on a highly juvenile level) to movies or television shows the characters often hide behind sandwiches when dealing with sex.

I used to have a really long list of movies that could fall under this category. But I started thinking this after I'd seen Catch Me If You Can. Frank Abagnale Jr.'s mama cheats on his papa with the boss-man, club leader guy, but pretends he's over for "sandwiches". In the bedroom?!

I like sandwiches. I like my bed. I like being naked (now don't get any ideas!). If I had a boss-man, club leader guy I'd probably like him too. But all three of those things in my bed....just seems fishy.

But Frank Jr. isn't stupid. He wasn't so protected by innocence and age that he could not see right through that pretty flimsy cover up. Which probably explains why he turned out to be one of the most notorious cheque forger-escape artist-imposter's of the 20th century. That's a triple threat like nothing else.

Imagine if a hollywood triple threat (singer-dance-actor) decided to add forger-escape artist-imposter to their resume! Hollywood would be their bitch. I would probably be their bitch too, just because they could.

Earlier, I typed up this big blog about absolutely nothing. I wanted to write about all the things I'd observed that are really absurd but I find I don't like it when my blog is just a series of highly unrelated things.

Sandwiches also known as sex is pretty absurd. So now I'm going to tell you that if you love cosmetics you can become a beautician, esthetician, botanist, horticulturist or account. According to the Government of Ontario, that is. Don't ask, don't know...it's better if we keep things the way they are.

I know, I know...the things I've talked about are not at all related. But they're in my head and because I'm having very unfocused thoughts, INSIDE, I see no reason why my unfocused thoughts shouldn't be all over the internet too!

"Golf looketh like a silly game" says King James IV. And I agree with him. 500 years later.
Honestly though, I'd like everyone to take a minute and picture themselves at the exact moment when His Majesty the King of Scots said to his royal court, in what was presumably a booming voice, "I hereby ban golf because it looketh like a silly game." Just try and tell me you wouldn't laugh out loud.

This sign was found in the

tomb of King James IV

Speaking of laughing out loud, I'd like to take the next few lines to rant about something that's a pretty big deal in our modern, technological society.
Abbreviations have totally ruined laughing-out-loud for people who want to describe what they're doing as actually laughing-out-loud. Seriously, when you say "lol" it doesn't mean anything anymore.
I've actually had conversations with people on MSN that have gone, something, like this:
Beanie_lover22: hey how u?
Rebecca: I'm good, and you?
Beanie_lover22: gud, just got back from the doctors.
Rebecca: Oh really? Is everything ok?
Beanie_lover22: 4sure. i had to get my leg amputated. nbd though lol

WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING!? Is an amputation normally funny? Am I missing something!? Did I miss the part where losing a limb is funny...?

Lol is a conversation filler for people who don't know how to function normally. I think people think it helps to ease the tension or, when used on me, to INCREASE it. Saying "lol" after telling me you think we should break up and see other people is really not appropriate. No one is laughing. I'm actually col-ing. Crying out loud.

I almost feel obliged to record a video of myself laughing and attached it to things (like funny pictures) or send to my friends (while we chat) so that they'll believe me. I supposed I could use skype. But I'm really awkward on camera and I spend more time looking at the really unflattering mirror image of myself at the bottom of the computer screen than the conversation itself.

Plus the only people I've ever skyped with are my family in Germany and the 26 year old Hungarian family friend who's in love with me. The family part is fine but I've developed a complex with web cameras because I'm afraid buddy is on the other side watching me.

That's all for me. I'm in the library and I'm getting a little sick of it. Actually, I really hate the library. Yesterday I spent a really stressful 30 minutes on the fourth floor looking for monologues in a section of very poorly organized books. The whole library is poorly organized. The whole library sucks. Except the basement with the really sweet shelves that move when you press a button. I feel like Indiana Jones in my very own Temple of Doom. I like books but libraries make me want to throw up from frustration. So I'll stick to my mom and have her do all the searching and the choosing for me.

I'd like to leave you with this though:

It is far easier to break something down then to build it back up again, like the sand castle you spent four hours perfecting, destroyed in moments by the tide.
-Me

Welcome to the Arctic, where temperatures can reach as low as -68°C

Earlier this evening I thought I'd come up with a really novel way to "describe" someone dressed in drag (specific, but not exclusive to, a man dressed as a woman). See, this whole thing came about because one of my best friend's had her 21st birthday party at a drag bar and we took a million pictures. And pictures always wind up on facebook. And I always wind up commenting on the pictures on facebook so, really to no surprise, I spent the evening flooding the internet with witty banter and clever jokes. And, while "liking" this picture and "writing a comment" on that one, I was faced with a rather difficult task: assigning a gender to one of the drag queens in one of the pictures.
INCOMING INGENIOUS IDEA!!!
So, you know how he is spelt h-e? And you know how she is spelt s-h-e? Well, as I struggled to figure out what I was going to do (tough, right?) I realized that if I combined the letters h and e with the letter s I would get the perfect "in between" word..
Or, you know, I'd just be spelling she.

My disappointment was, as you can only imagine, hard to deal with.

But it inspired me to blog, again, 2 nights in a row.

A few years ago, blogging in general would have been, like, social suicide or something.
A few months ago, blogging once a week seemed reasonable.
But to blog twice in two days just didn't seem possible.

And yet, here we are...raising a few questions, actually, on the validity of my blogginess:
A) Where am I supposed to come up with material?
B) What's the point in blogging even ONCE (in my entire lifetime) if my readership consists of only Sam, Nadia and maybe one or two potential strangers?
C) Who cares enough about what I have to say to be SO invested in what the devil is going on here? (double entendre)
D) Isn't blogging a little self-serving or selfish?

I've read blogs where the writer asks his or her or hiers (get it?) readers to comment (down below! :D) on what they think about the life altering questions the blog poses. I'm not going to do that. I'm asking these as rhetorical questions because I can't flatter myself enough to think that anyone will actually reply.

Honestly, blogging must be therapeutic or something...I don't really know what it is about blogging other than the fact that I like it, I feel accomplished when I'm done and it's closely tied in with one of my greatest loves: creative writing.

I'd almost be willing to let my mom read my blog if I didn't so often pepper the damn thing with references to illicit activities and even more illicit substances. Not like she'd care, actually, because she once asked me if I saw anything I wanted at The Friendly Stranger and showed me a video of her and her best friend smoking dope. But still, you know, things might get weird and she might ask questions and I'd rather not feel obliged to smoke with my mother when she gets all crazy pleased that I smoke too and she wants to join!

Cause it could happen.

My toes are so warm, right now, because they're inches away from one of those awesome space heaters. My mom's place is cold. No, it's not cold. To describe the temperature of her apartment as cold is not fair to the Arctic. Because her apartment is probably colder than that. I swear the snot in my nose is actually frozen. Well, not right now because I'm inches away from a space heater. But if I leave it's radius of delicious heat I wouldn't be surprised if my blood froze.

I think I might be cold blooded because I need warmth to, uh, warm up. Shocker.

That's all I can think about, for now. See you tomorrow, same bat time, same bat place.

Yours truly,

-Beck

ps: Gary Larson is a cartoon genius. Don't believe me, ask the dishes!!

Piggies

So you know how I spend a lot of time complaining about how little sleep I get? And you know how every second blog entry probably has at least one reference to how I should be sleeping, haven't been sleeping well or sleepiness (in general)? Well, today's going to be no different.
Except that today I got so much sleep! Which means that I can't think of one negative thing to say about my snoozing schedule (or lack thereof).  Haha, I just threw that in there for fun!

It's 11:11! Make a wish.....



Oh wait, dammit. It's not. According to my computer it's 11:11 but I can't take this thing too seriously as it also thought the date was, like, April 18th, 1952.
Not that that wishing period was very lucrative. I closed my eyes, in the traditional "it's 11:11! Make a wish" kind of way but my brain was totally empty. I couldn't think of a single thing that I wanted, that the almighty Whoever would be capable of granting. I fished around for something, anything and all I came up with was "I wish to meet a cute and nice boy".

I've been wishing that wish since I was 12. And for the first 7 years of that time I thought maybe I was invisible since just about any time I liked a guy I could almost guarantee he wouldn't even know I was a girl. Then I got all 18 and datable (I guess) and that worked...for 2 years. So I guess you could say between 18 and 20 when 11:11 came along I wished for non-meeting cute boy related things. But now...

And I can admit that's what I wished for because it wasn't actually 11:11. And because, as superstitious as I am, I figure in the matter of love everything's at the mercy of coincidence.

I'm not jaded or bitter or so broken hearted by past experience that I don't believe I'll meet a cute and nice boy. I'm just not expecting it to happen any time soon. I think my fair share of shitty ends of sticks is going to have to play itself out first before boys and cute and me in one sentence is even a possibility.

Right now, I'm really content to just grow up a little. I was just talking to Nadia about how when I look at my parents and I see them with their cars and their shopping bags and their to-do lists and their keys I think about how awesome it's going to be when I grow up and having those things will actually seem natural. Right now, when I go shopping and wrestle with my many keyed key chain at the front door of my very own house it seems a little bit like an act. Don't get me wrong! I like to act but it'll be really neat when that will all be.....part of my routine.

Christ, trying to picture me with any semblance of routine is like trying to picture a pig on a pogo stick...

Totally the most awesome thing I've seen all day. 

If only my life was this great.

And like Paul Rudd so wisely said: "I wish I liked anything as much as my kids like bubbles" 

Which, by the way, legitimately applies to everything that's "below my maturity level".

I downloaded Catch Me if You Can and I'm going to watch it soon. When I saw it back in Grade 10 civics and careers class (yeah, don't ask) it really was the first time I realized that A) Leonardo DiCaprio's acting isn't half bad and B) he's kind of cute. I think this movie is also the very first example of my impending maturity because I stopped calling him Leonardo DiCrapio after I saw it. 

So, despite what Chotchy says about Netflix overtaking my mind and soul I'm going to peace and love myself out of here now. And, for the record, I'm not even using Netflix to watch movies anymore because it's a big poo-poo head and has the crappiest (OH! I said a swear!!) film selection in the whole entire universe!

Cha-cha now y'all.

-Bextacy

Tips for the Undead?

I'm having a hard time falling asleep. Probably has something to do with my horrible sleeping habits and Frostwire the Giant who's been stomping around in my head all day long. Usually when he gets like this I have a hard time doing anything. Reading, eating, showering...you name it, Frostwire the Giant makes it hard.
But I can't exactly say I've done everything in my power to appease him. Usually when I get like this all I want to do is watch movies and lie in bed.....which I've now done, two days in a row. But I've had a lot of water to drink and because I don't believe in medication (other than throat lozenges) I guess I'm just going to have to sweat this one out.

I was introduced to a very special kind of game last night. It's (probably) called the Instrument Game but because it's way more fun than that makes it sound I'm going to call it The Get-Super-Stoned-and-Make-Sweet-Music Game. The point of the game is to get super stoned with a bunch of friends and make sweet music with "instruments" you find in your house.Cool, huh?

Tomorrow I go back home for the weekend and I think I really need this. My bed, my parents, my siblings, my dog, my house, my city....my best friends. It's going to be good.

Well, can't think of anything else to say so goodnight from my end of the world!

Going to listen to some dope Harry Potter audio tapes and hopefully Frostwire's gone in the morning. J.K Rowling is a fan of giants, right?

-Berk



ps: I am obviously guilty of one of those embarrassing situations where you give your story (blog, in this case) a title before actually having any idea what you're going to say. I guess you could argue I'm undead.....

What the hell happened to our shit pile?!

So apparently 1 o'clock in  the morning was, in my opinion, the best time to clean out the Ladies cage/vacuum the floor. Which is no big deal because just about everything in my room was starting to smell like, surprise surprise, rat shit.
I don't know why I let it get so bad. But I think I know what my mom always went on about when I asked if we could get a pet bunny.
"If we get a small pet you're going to have to clean the cage every week"
"Gosh, Mom, it's not that hard. I'll do it, I promise!"
Well, I was a liar. At least she wasn't hear to see it/smell it.
Last night I was listening to the Prisoner of Azkaban audio tape on youtube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZR9szt6XsRA) and I was at the part where Professor. Lupin is teaching the kids how to deal with Boggarts. And I thought to myself, as I slowly drifted into Dream Land, what a Boggart would turn into for me. For those of you (strange) people who don't have a clue what I'm talking about a Boggart is a shape shifter, that can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most. So you can see why I had to think about it.
And it occurred to me, then and now, that there are really only two things that Boggart could turn into:
1. A zombie
2. The look on my mother's face if she saw my room in its current condition

Earlier tonight Chotchy, Sam, Kate and I had a really good game of "would you rather" going.

Poor little Katie is coughing up a storm in her room and it makes my heart ache to hear it. I wish there was something I could do to make her feel better......

Tomorrow night is trivia night at the B-Taps and, despite not being invited, I'm one hundred percent going. Way to invite me, Chotchy. Oh, and guess what?! Kate and I get to roll again! Suck it, bitch.

Sometimes we have board game nights and play things like Pictionary or Cranium and these are usually the nights that we are all really tetchy with each other. No one wants to lose but I'm not going to be a door mat, OK?

Today, I observed that Sam has a List problem. And I know it hurts his feelings, soul, brain and heart to hear it but that's just the way it is. I love him for it.

Today, I observed that Chotchy is a sore loser. But it's OK, because I am too. Probably one of the biggest. No one knows it but I usually go to the bathroom to cry, not pee, whenever we're playing a board game and I'm losing.

OK, now everyone knows. You know, all I want is to be in this place where losing at stuff doesn't hurt so bad....



God, that's depressing.

On another note, I'm not a sad person. Just to clear that up.

Well, I should go to sleep. My room smells like freshly torn newspaper and rat food, my sheets are warm and soft and my mind is wishing it wasn't still working. Ed Roy would not be pleased. He would also not be pleased that I don't do my breathing exercises in the morning but who needs to know?! Waste not, want not...or something.

Goodnight, from my rat infested love den.

-Berk

Ry-Ry!

Wha...who...where...?!?

So my Zodiac sign has changed and I'm not going to lie...I feel a little bit like a fish out of water. This addition of Ophiuchus to the glorious realm of the Zodiac is really making me question my identity. Just because the Sun is in a different constellation than it was 3,000 years ago doesn't make it any easier to hear that I'm going to be stuck as a ram for the rest of my life.
I'm a little disappointed in myself that I'm actually mildly shaken by this news. I don't follow my horoscope daily but when I do check it there is always something really comforting in the fact that I know exactly where to find "Taurus". Now I'm stuck in this in between place; on one hand desperately trying to stay in touch with the bull inside of me and on the other hand wishing I could accept my new personality traits.
I bet this news comes as a much greater shock to people who truly depend on their sign as a means to identify themselves.
What right do the astronomers have, anyway? They say a bunch of mumble-jumble, star studded crap and expect everyone to just follow along. Is that it? Because this is kind of the last straw for me. You all should know, by now, that I have serious beef with scientists/science and I'm starting to legitimately lose my patience for their shit.
You know, first they go around lulling us simpletons into a false sense of security when dealing with poisonous vs. harmless spiders. Then they go and just assume that the tiny dinosaur fossils they found came from tiny dinosaurs without thinking that when you assume you make an ass out of yourself. I don't know if you know this but very recently paleontologists realized that most of the dinosaurs they said were different species are actually just the baby versions of the kinds we already know. And now, I'm expected to adapt to this new sign, as if this isn't the most earth, mind, and universe shattering change the world has ever experienced. Jeepers creepers.
Who am I, now, without horns and a steaming nose?! Now I'm just a crazy looking, male sheep.
Although, a few friends of mine have been known to call me "the lamb".....coincidence or fate?
Now I have to go sleep so that I can wake up tomorrow and this will all have been a horrible, horrible nightmare.
Peace and Love,
-Birdie?

Hands.

So, the craziest thing happened to me today!!!! I was in the library and I got a call on my phone. I picked it up, all like "hey, what's up?" only to realize who I was talking to: Matt Damon.







OK, so maybe that didn't happen.

But I did run my first cue-to-cue this afternoon and I did go swimming with Manu...so my day was almost as eventful.

One pretty sweet thing did happen, though: I came to terms with my height. At least, to terms with it in front of people. Basically, my acting prof got everyone in class to go up, one at a time, and talk about themselves. And this was not your typical "Hey, my name'sth Bertha!! My favourite colour iths peach and I really like sthea monkeysth. I have sthix at home!" No, this was like "Hey my name's Dan" "Hey Dan" "And I have a drinking problem"

Did I say acting prof? I meant rehab worker.

But seriously, height is a big deal for me. I'm an amazon-lady and I really do feel like I go around stompin' all over people. I know that I don't...and that everything else about me isn't much bigger than other people but I'm tall...like crazy tall. My entire family is super tall but that's not why being tall makes things hard for me. It's not, like, I've lived in their shadow my entire or anything (haha). I'm serious, it's not that.

I just don't know how to master the space that I'm in. There's nothing I can do to make myself shorter (except slouch, but slouching is ugly) so it's about time I take the world in my two, Amazonian hands and shout out to anyone who's listening "THIS IS MY TIME AND I'M HERE TO MAKE THE MOST OF IT!"

And I'm honestly going to make the most of this semester. I was bat shit scared of going to the class this morning, mostly because I'm intimidated by everyone (ahem.....mostly because I'm intimidated by him....) but if Ed Roy (my professor) can push me, in the right way, things might actually work out.

I've always been interested in acting but I've never been encouraged to do it and I think Ed Roy cares about people, as long as they care enough about themselves. I just don't like feeling awkward on stage anymore. And I'd like to know what to do with my hands...


Seriously, what the hell are you supposed to do with them?!!

Oh, that? Sweet, thanks!

 

Snow Weeks are this week. So, that's awesome. Rehearsals are going well but I always get some pretty serious giggle fits and I feel bad!! I'm the stage manager and I'm supposed to be the most professional in the room. Pftt! Yeah right! Anyway, wish us luck! We're not going to need it but we might...so...just in case.


The ladies are back. And it's well past their bed time.

Nighty-night, bloves!

Peace and Love,
-Berk

It is my honour to introduce to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs.....

I don't know what it is about a man in a uniform....

But they do nothing for me.

Unless, the man is Matt Damon.

(Does anyone know who the guy in front is?!)

I recently confessed to my room mates about how I spent a good portion of my preteen years pretending I was Mrs. Matt Damon. Not exactly something I'm proud of but I'm not embarrassed. It's actually more depressing than anything else because now I know exactly how big that fantasy was.

The onion of my future with Matt Damon is slowly unraveling. At first there was so much potential. As a kid I had a whole onion.....but over the years the layers have fallen off. Slowly at first and now almost completely. But I still get butterflies any time I see him. 

Does anyone blame me?

I mean , imagine this: Matt Damon approaches you on the street and starts chatting you up about all sorts of stuff. You guys are getting along really well and you can sense the sparks flying. Then, suddenly Leonardo DiCaprio comes up and interrupts Matt Damon with something really witty and you both share a laugh. Now what do you do? Do you talk to Matt Damon and Leonardo DiCaprio at the same time? Do you choose one over the other? Do you give each a fair chance to prove themselves and then choose one over the other? The answer is and always will be you choose Leonardo DiCaprio because, bitch, stay away from my man!

That's the way of the world. The law of the land. How the chips have fallen.

And if you break that rule..........................



Honestly though, I get a good kick out of teasing myself and my friends about stuff like this. Obviously, if Matt Damon asked me to marry him I'd say yes but because that's an impossible that's just too impossible to conceive that I hardly think it (anymore) I poke fun at my would-be carefree days as the fantasy Mrs. Matt Damon. I don't even sign my diary entries like that anymore. I just have a lot of respect for him as an actor and person and it helps that he's very sexy. If anyone wants to disagree or present me with a sexier alternative by all means, feel free!

Peace and love, dears.
-Mrs. Damon

 

Star Wars and Romantic-Comedy's must be related!

LUKE: (panting heavily) I can't. It's too big.
YODA: Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hm?
Mmmm.
Luke shakes his head.
YODA: And well you should not. For my ally in the Force. And a
powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. It's energy
surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we...(Yoda pinches
Luke's shoulder)...not this crude matter. (a sweeping gesture) You must
feel the Force around you. (gesturing) Here, between you...me...the
tree...the rock...everywhere! Yes, even between this land and that
ship!
LUKE: (discouraged) You want the impossible.
Quietly Yoda turns toward the X-wing fighter. With his eyes
closed and his head bowed, he raises his arm and points at the
ship. Soon, the fighter rises above the water 
LUKE: I don't...I don't believe it.
YODA: That is why you fail.

Yup Luke, that is exactly why you fail. If Kermit the Frog's great-great-grandfather can lift an X-Wing out of a bog, there's no excuse why you can't too.

You know, there's something to be said for watching a lot of movies. Gets your mind really working...at least watching four movies last night and two tonight really got me thinking....
1. If you're a super hero the only way you can shave your face is with your own finger nails. I know from experience. Believe me.
2. Darth Vader is a lot like Summer from 500 Days of Summer: he does what he wants, when he wants.
3. Don't make out with your sibling because that always leads to awkward conversations. I don't know this from experience. But believe me anyway. Just think about it....
Luke: So, Leia
Leia: Yes, Luke? What's wrong..
Luke:...I got some pretty crazy news to tell you. Remember that time you kissed me?.....yeah, we're gonna need to talk about that.
4. If James Earl Jones was actually wearing the Darth Vader costume, and not Uncle Fester, I think Star Wars would be way more awesome.
4. When I was in Greece two summers ago I fell in love with Antinoos:

And I may have found my modern day version. 

So, my faith in the existence of some higher power has been renewed. Praise Zeus/Jupiter!

That's my insightful blog for the night.

Ow!

Happy 2011 everyone! You know what this means? One more year until the end of the world. So, let's make the best of it. Let's actually stick to our guns and do what we always said we were going to do. You want to travel? Do it. You want to write a short story? Do it. You want to submit said short story to a publishing agency? Do it. Honestly, what is there to lose? In 12 months all this will be gone.
Or so the crazy people say.
But I think that it would be a good idea if, say, the government or our teachers (who think they inspire us to do great things) all told us the world was actually going to end. Like, if the President actually supported the crazies for once and made a nation-wide...no, world wide statement something along the lines of "2012 will be the end of our lives as we know it. Maybe there's something beyond but we won't know until it happens. So, I am officially declaring the year 2011 as a year to do whatever you want, however much you want, wherever you want and with whomever you want. Go nuts, guys." 
Personally, I would do a lot if I knew I only had so much time to live. I would actually travel and actually bother to write a short story. I don't think I'd submit it though; not much point if all that's left of the Earth is a few particles of dust floating throughout the galaxy.
Even if 2012 doesn't bring the complete annihilation of humanity I don't see why it wouldn't be a good idea to just fuck around for a year. Everyone would loosen up a bit. Fulfill their wildest dreams and desires. Get silly, for once, without having to worry what anyone else thought.
It would be a year of total relaxation coupled with a deep and sudden realization of our own mortality. But then when 2012 does roll around and shit isn't blowing up and the world isn't imploding on itself we can all laugh and look back on the zillion pictures we took of our shenanigans and be thankful that we're all still kicking.
And THEN, when we have to get back to work or school (reality) we'll do it all the more willingly.
I think, anyway.
The point is: this year we should make resolutions and actually go through with them. And I'm not talking about one far fetched plan to do something you know, deep down you're incapable of doing but a few somethingS that will make you feel...fulfilled.
I want to travel. Now seems like the most appropriate time to do it. I'm not held back by any, uh, attachments and while I'm thousands of dollars in debt I don't owe the government anything. Not for another year. So I should take my OSAP (I mean, hard earned money) and fly places, see stuff, meet people. I want that, I've always wanted it. Now's the time to declare 2011 as a year of travel and self discovery.
That sounds good. My parents will buy it.
I hope that everyone had a fabulous end to their 2010. Mine was quiet and unassuming. I spent it with my best friend and that's all I could ever ask for.
Now it's time to head back to that place that teaches me stuff (kind of) and be all involved and shit.
Again, Happy New Year!

Peace and Love (always)
-Beegie

Stuff

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/1iB6e7/www.mocpages.com/moc.php/131387

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2385xk/www.punditmom.com/2010/03/an-open-letter-to-the-new-york-times-about-mom-bloggers-women-writers-the-universe (because I started to blog and stumbled upon this)

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/1SEU9R/ngm.nationalgeographic.com/wallpaper/img/2010/04/apr10wallpaper-1_1600.jpg (I thought this one's name was Gentleman's Emporium....)

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2ZQROC/1x.com/OEfullSize/35299-fullsize.jpg (miss the ladies!!!)

goodnight