Deceptive Rabbits

Chocolate critters: brilliant. Pagan, but brilliant.

Today I had my first chocolate bunny of the season. I walked over to the deli at lunch cuz I was lazy this morning and didn't feel like bringing yet another can of soup to school. On a whim, I decided to add a dash of chocolate to my sandwich lunch, and purchased a cute little tin foiled rabbit. He just looked so cheerful and springy. Apparently I was so distracted by the cute lil' guy's face that I didn't notice the price tag. No matter, one would think that a chocolate bunny of not even three inches in height, and which contains no innards besides air, would cost somewhere around 50 cents. Nope. Later, as I was walking back to the school, I noticed the price tag: $1.39!! For what? That's RIDICULOUS! I felt like a cranky old lady lamenting the good old days when she could buy a chocolate bar for 3 cents. Honestly, though, $1.39?? I could have fed a kid in Africa for that! I think I went off in a rage to my friend about consumerism and inflation or something intellectual like that. (Even now, I'm working myself up into a tither. I can feel my heart racing at the injustice of it all.)

I was distracted, however, by a story she shared with me about a chocolate lover she knows. Apparently her friend liked chocolate so much that she always bit off the ears before giving the bunnies to her children. Her kids always thought they were chocolate mice. Hmmm, not a bad idea. I'll just have to make sure that I don't buy my kids HOLLOW chocolate bunnies, or they'll catch on pretty quick (and, I'm planning on having BRILLIANT children). Although, if I buy them hollow chocolates, they won't get fat (I don't want chubby kids, but I do want Chubby's kids...). Maybe I'll just stick to Mini Eggs. Yes, those are heaven in a shell.

P.S. The chocolate wasn't even good. The tradegy cuts me deep.

P.P.S. If I wanted to, I could use this chocolate bunny as an extended metaphor for life in soooo many ways.

Shoes

My roommate and I are each in our bedrooms staring at a computer screen, madly typing away. Our reasons for staring, typing, pondering, stretching, however, are vastly different: Lana is writing to learn, and I am writing to relax.

It's funny.

For a long time I knew Lana's chair all too well. The pile of essays and readings and essays and readings and exams upon exams upon exams didn't seem like it would ever let up. I had paper cuts on my lungs and ink marks on the soles of my feet. I discovered my caffeine threshold and mastered the 2 am half hour nap. Once I even decorated a documentation project while driving to school to hand it in seconds before the office closed (I'm sad to say those stick men did not display my best artistic ability). I lived in grey sweat pants, ugly old glasses, greasy pony tails, and that sweater with a hole in the armpit. Staying up all night multiple times in a row no longer phased me, nor did the image staring back at me in the mirror.

I haven't really left that world, though (perhaps a depressing thought). If I look around me, I still see piles of readings and piles of essays. I still read until the page starts talking back to me in Donald Duck's voice. I still doodle in margins. I still savagely chew at LEAST three sticks of gum and have bubble blowing contests with myself. I still have mini temper tantrums and whimper and foam at the mouth at no one in particular. Yeah, it's all still familiar, all still there.

Except for here.

Here, I have found something -- a dump of sorts. Here, I can throw away all the words I have saved for far too long, and that honestly haven't served much purpose sitting on shelves in my bedroom. Here, I can use the piles of essays as booster seats or foot rests. Here, I find application relevant, grammar handy, thoughts delicious. Here, my other foot is bare.

And free.



P.S. Ray and Jo threw the Chubs and I a SWEET engagement party this weekend (Chubby has a more detailed account). I was overwhelmed. I'm not used to being the one receiving parties and flowers and presents and so many new friends. I think I could get used to it, though! Especially the part where I got chocolate and sesame snaps!!!

Battyfield's Obervations

I'm pretty blind. I mean it. I've had to wear glasses since grade three or four -- at one point I even had the little string thing that went around my head in case my glasses fell off. So, over the years my eyes have become progressively worse and by now my prescription is -9. That means without corrective lenses I can only see about six inches from my face clearly. Yes, the little "how many fingers am I holding up?" game actually works with the likes of me. Hilarious.

In any case, after my shower today, I decided to tweeze my eyebrows. I do this without my contacts in, so I have to have my face inches from the mirror to do a good job of logging the forest. When your face is that close to your face, you notice a few things:
1. I have wrinkles
2. I have black heads
3. I have zit scars
4. I have car accident scars
5. I have broken capillaries around my nose
6. I have a couple little zits
7. I have a sty by my eye

Attractive. Now, I actually don't have a problem with most of my observations. I'll tell you why:
1. Everyone has wrinkles. They symbolize age, wisdom, laughter. Not bad. Don't mind 'em.
2. You can't really see them unless you're really close, and we have stuff called makeup to cover them up. Plus, there's always Biore.
3. Again, can cover them up.
4. Cover.
5. Cover. And, really, I've been blowing my nose for years, so I'm not overly surprised. Go big or go home.
6. Can cover. Provide hours of entertainment. There are few things more satisfying than a good squirter, too.
7. OK. This is where I stop being positive. These are ANNOYING. They DON'T GO AWAY. You can't pop the things, and every attempt hurts like Hades (and I tried again today, even with my tweezers). They are hard to cover because they are so close to your eye and always remind me of some kind of reptile. My next attempt to destroy the bugger will involve a laser pointer. Be gone inflamed skin gland! Be gone!

Last, but not lease, because I'm painting myself in such an attractive light today, I thought I'd leave you with a little picture of me enjoying my Spring Break.

Knitted Newfoundland socks, flannel, Value Village, hoodie, book. Oh, and pearl earrings (not in picture).

HAWT!

Springing into Girly World

You is sitting on a couch, staring into the fireplace. Enter Cheryl, stage left. Cheryl comes bounding into living room with an annoyingly huge smile on her face. You feels at once uneasy and ready to kick her teeth in.

CHERYL: (Flops down on the couch beside You and cocks her head to the side.) So, did you know that I'm ridiculously deep in the throes of Spring Break?

YOU: I thought everyone's break began today. Aaaaand, I'm not sure how you can consider one day "deep in the throes". It's very Anne of Green Gables of you, though.

CHERYL: No, nincompoop! (Throws fancy red pillow and You gets hit in the teeth with one of the dangly glass beads) This is my second week of Spring Break! Tomorrow will be my SECOND Tuesday of sleeping in, making fresh coffee, and going bra-less until at least 4 pm.

YOU: Arraughhhhh!! First of all, that's too much information. Secondly, I hate you for numerous reasons. I really do. Now, get off my couch -- you disgust me. (Pushes Cheryl with foot forcefully)

Cheryl obligingly gets off couch and relocates to floor, where she props herself up on one elbow.

CHERYL: You know, I'm sensing jealousy. You haven't even heard what else I've been doing over the past week.

YOU: Fine. Because I so desire to live vicariously through you, I might as well know what to expect.

CHERYL: Yes, yes, yes. So wise you are. Anyway, Andy and I have finally nailed down a date for our wedding.

YOU: Didn't you get engaged, like, over a month ago?

CHERYL: Er, yes, but... (makes a "shut up, I know you're totally right but I can't think of a good comeback" face) ... it's hard to come up with a venue. ANYway, we've booked a lovely place for August 10.

YOU: The 10th, eh? I'm so shocked. Does Andy know about your obsession with multiples of five? Cuz if he --

CHERYL: (Cutting him off) I told him all that stuff on, like, our first date or something. He finds it cute that I have a bit of OCD. And besides, if constantly counting everything in sight doesn't turn a man on, I don't know what will. And the number ten just happens to be near perfection - so fitting to begin our life of nupital bliss.

YOU: You are unreal. Does he also find your horrible obsession with puns cute, too?

CHERYL: Yes, he loves them. He told me if I stopped punning he would become a lost, hollow shell of a man. It's sort of pathetic how much he needs to hear them, actually. I often fear I'll experience performance anxiety, but so far I can keep 'em comin'. I will admit, however, to the exhaustion that constantly weaving magic out of words can bring me.

YOU: (Sarcastically) Yes, you make amazing puns. Everyone thinks so. And, you know, clearly you and Andy are meant to be together if he loves them so. But anyway, I don't want to give puns any more attention than they deserve, so what other stuff are you going to force me to hear?

CHERYL: Right. (Cheryl experiences a thought) OHHHHHHHH!!!!! (Reaches over and smacks You on the leg) I bought my dress today!

YOU: Like, THE dress?

CHERYL: Yes. And it's dreamy.

YOU: I could pretend right now I really cared about the details of your dress, but I really don't.

CHERYL: Fine. I don't want to explain it too much, anyway, just in case I start to get sick of looking at it in my head.

YOU: Yeah, I heard that you shouldn't try your wedding dress on more than three times or something -- brides have a tendency to second guess themselves. There are so many fabulous frocks out there.

CHERYL: Yeah, I heard that, too. But I can't imagine wanting to try it on a million times. It's a lot of work. Oh!! But I will tell you to really think about what underwear you put on the day you go try on dresses. Let's just say I didn't and had to apologize to the poor Italian dress helper lady. Awkward.

YOU: Yes, I can imagine -- rather unfortunately. (Thoughtful pause) You know, Cheryl, I'm actually impressed at the perfect balance of sloth and productivity you've managed to maintain over your break. I'm almost getting teary eyed, you inspire me so.

CHERYL: "You bring meaning to my life, you're my inspira-a-tionnnnnnnnnnnn."

YOU: No, that will bring on a different kind of tear, entirely!

the end.

Dancing in the Street

Video Preamble:
I am feeling a little blechhh today, and so needed some cheering up. Whenever this happens, I have a few options: play piano/guitar, read, have a bath, read Bible, go for a run, lay on couch and moan, or look up funny stuff on the internet. Today I opted for funny stuff. I'd like to share with you an oldie but a goodie of a music video that my students re-introduced to me the other day. I enjoy it immensely, and I'm sure you will too. I like to picture myself bustin' a groove in the background wearing a brilliantly hideous purple poofy polyester shirt and a housecoat.

All right, so I just spent a few minutes getting myself a YouTube account so that I could post that music video. But, well, I don't know where it went. The YouTube "people" promised me that it would appear on my blog "shortly," but I DON'T SEE IT ANYWHERE. Bastards.

So, I'm going to have to show you this SWEET video the old-fashioned way. Sigh.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BO2QfSQiG70

Considering the Technology of Facebook

Apparently this new Facebook business is all the rage nowadays. Apparently I have a lot to say about it, so, go get yourself a cup of tea or something to sip whilst reading/skimming.

I first heard about it a few weeks ago when going out for lunch in Victoria with some of Andy's friends. For those of you, like myself, who are no longer in university or high school, or are not between the ages 17-25 (which is users' average age), you may have never heard of Facebook. Well, I did a bit of "research" (thanks to Wikipedia and other sources) on the matter, and so allow me to give you a brief synopsis on the seventh most popular site in the U.S., with over 17 million members worldwide.

Basically, Facebook is a social networking service that allows you to stay in touch with all your friends through minimal effort. It acts as sort of a reference book. Your profile includes a picture of yourself (the "face" aspect) and a little bit of info, plus access to all of your photos (and you can choose WHO has access to them). Actually, Facebook is the number one site for photos (ahead of Flickr) because they allow you to upload sooooo many. You then basically subscribe to your friends, and can write little update notes and everyone can see them at the same time. It's apparently much easier to organize parties, share photos, and keep people updated on your life. Plus it involves far less writing (than, say, emails or blogs, or even msn), which appeals to many people. Currently 85% of college students in the U.S. have an account. Facebook actually began at Harvard and has since been predominantly available to college students, and has recently been opened up to high school kids.

But I don't want an account.

As far as websites go, this one seems pretty harmless, and it's well laid out, but I think my hesitation towards it concerns what the Facebook craze says about our culture and my own motivations for getting an account.

If we look into the history of media literacy, we can't help but bump into Marshall McLuhan. Marshall McLuhan is considered by some to be a forefather or prophet of the electronic age. He is most famous for his book, Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, written way back in 1964. McLuhan was very interested in understanding the effects of technology and how they translated into our culture, and in turn affected us as human beings. I teach my Media 12 students about him every fall, and I can't help but have his words run through my head when I think about Facebook. I am called to practice what I preach.

McLuhan came up with a tool for approaching new technology called the tetrad. He basically had four questions we should pose whenever considering a new technology (and in our case, it is Facebook). The questions are: What does it (the medium or technology) extend? What does it make obsolete? What is retrieved? What does the technology reverse into if it is over-extended? After having these questions in my mind, I have come up with far more negative aspects than positive.

Before signing up for an account, I question my motivation. WHY do I need an account? Is it to simply see how many friends I have? Am I just curious? Is it to stay in touch with friends of old and far away? Is it for entertainment? Is it to meet new people? Is it to feel in the loop, part of the conversation? Will it help me save time and organize events more efficiently? Or, will it be yet another thing to feed my procrastination addiction? Will it distract me in class? Would I join because everyone else is -- to simply be part of Chomsky's bewildered herd? Will I fool myself into thinking I'm being social, while functioning through an anti-social medium? Will it really deepen and make a meaningful impact on my current relationships? Will it feed my already inflated ego? Will I use it to glorify God... or myself?

The answers to these questions definitely reinforce my decision NOT to get an account, but that's me. I already spend too much time on the internet when I should be marking (or teaching...) or going out for coffee. I guess I'm just encouraging you to question your motivation, too, and consider the impact the technology will have on your life, and if it checks out, give 'er -- it seems fun.

But for me, I am weary/leary of speed and ease being such a strong motivator and validator in our culture. I am tired of the idolatrous mores. I want deep, I want meaningful, I want shoulders, and unfortunately I just can't have that with 257 friends, sitting in front of a computer screen.

So, sorry, you will not be able to count me among your Facebook friends. From that book, I must turn my face away.

A hot date with my fireplace

It's Friday night and I'm home alone.

There was a time when that statement would have had my heart racing like a GT down an icy hill, and you would have found me closing all of the blinds to ensure nobody noticed. Only losers stay home alone on weekends, right? I'm supposed to be out at exotic parties or listening to live music or having a movie night with the girls, and not be sitting in front of the fire with my chin on the carpet for hours on end.

But... my feet are cold and I want to listen to new music and sip mint hot chocolate and have the lamps turned low and the nail polish handy. So, I have spent the better part of the evening straddling my fireplace or becoming a starfish on the carpet (it did cross my mind, as my face was getting carpet imprints on it, how many microscopic bugs were crawling all over me, but then I remembered that we got our carpets cleaned a couple months ago, so I was probably fine). My musical genious of a boyfriend made me a mix tape (er, CD) that was so good it moved me to tears in some parts (now, imagine a fireplace, soft lighting, some beautiful music, and me sitting there wiping my eyes with my hoodie sleeve -- either really romantic, or really SAD, right?). I also made a disaster with my nail polish, as usual, but there's something undeniably special about the scent of a good polish. I'm always reminded of summer evenings, or weddings, or fun dates, or high school sleep overs, or runs in nylons. And now I'm reminded of nights home alone.

I'm relieved that I'm happy to step away from the social circle for a time. I used to go out even when I was tired, and just make sure I had a big-assed coffee beforehand. Of course, part of it was that I wanted to be with my friends, but part of it was also to appear cool and because I was afraid to disappoint anyone (a people-pleaser to the core). When people asked me what I did over the weekend, I wanted to have something to show for myself that might even make people ENVIOUS of me! Wow!

But somehow it's different now.

I think I have a definition for adulthood: A stage in life when one DESIRES to have quiet nights at home, alone, and when one doesn't really give a rip if anyone knows. So, tonight I could have done fun activities with all sorts of stellarific people, but I didn't want to. I'm tired. It's Friday. It has been a looooooooooooooooong week - a long couple of months, actually. I don't want to talk to any more people. I'm done. I'm embracing the silence like a friend I neglect far too often and whose sweater smells of all things vanilla. I think I'm going to go back to my fireplace, settle my bum into the carpet, and pick up my book that I've been halfway through for the past two weeks.

And so I say goodnight, dear Weekend. My sincerest thanks for the lovely evening.

A Clockwork Orange

What

the

HELL

!!!!!!!!!!

it's back

deja-vu, I HATE YOU

Trees and Light

I strike myself as the sort of person who would be good at taking photos. I figured there was a whole world untapped by my shutter and that I was doing humankind a disservice by not displaying God's creation to its fullest potential.

.

When I went to buy a camera after Christmas, I had a wad of cash in my fist and a dream of photographic glory burning in my heart. Now, some people are hardcore researchers and they scour the city's camera shops, read stuff online, jot down advice in their little blackberries, and drive all of their friends crazy by inserting into every conversation whispers of Nikon, Canon, pixels, zoom thingies and, oh heck, I don't even know what other jargon people who know stuff about photography would use. In any case, as you can well imagine, that is certainly not how I roll.
.

One crisp December evening, I confidently walked up to the counter at London Drugs, and within ten minutes I dropped about $500 when all was said and done. No, I am NOT compulsive or prone to salesperson pressure; I think I just knew what I wanted. It had some cool whozits and whatsits, but most importantly an idiot-proof guide. Whenever I want to do a close-up, I just have to press the button. Brilliant! Now, I know many of you who know about cameras know that for a person of my expertise (cough), I really just needed to go to Costco and I could have found something quite lovely for more like $200. True, but, well, I like my camera, so there.

.

I have thus far mastered the candle light mode. Probably 70% of my pictures are shot in that mode right now, and recently we discovered the super close up feature. So rad. We went for a bit of a hike this weekend, though, and I found out that there is no mode for "forest starting to get dark but there are still bits of sunlight and the foliage still looks amazingly green." We did our best, and so here is what we came up with. It was a joint effort between me, Andy, and Luke.

This one is my favourite. Andy told me not to shoot at the sun, but I disobeyed him (hey, we're not married yet, you know).

Can you find the spiderweb hidden in this one? (Although, it looks more like a blob of light)Andy took it and I think it's magical.

Now I'd like to know how we would have made this picture turn out. I have no idea, and I think Luke did a great job considering the conditions he had to work under.

It's risky business leaving boys with a camera while you go pee in the bush.

This is the first classic look-up-the-tree picture I've taken. I almost lost my balance and fell in the mud.

.

Photography is so much harder than it seems! My goal is to learn all the handy dandy pre-programmed modes. We'll see what happens.