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Obligatory first blog post of the new year.
Well, we survived our first bout of classic Alberta winter last week. Given, it was much later than usual and didn't last very long (thankfully,) but it's nice to know we can always depend on at least one agonizing stretch of skin-biting frigidness that even gives Antarctica a run for its money.
While we were braving one of our infamous flash cold fronts last week, I caught an episode of What Not to Wear and couldn't help but feel a little chapped as I watched the 30-something hapless fashion victim of the day be stripped of her baggy sweaters and sweatpants and don a new wardrobe full of cute, flowery tops and adorable strappy sandals. That's all well and fine when you live in balmy Florida, or hell, even Chicago, but where are the fashion gurus for us poor Albertans? Where's our What Not to Wear: Freeze Your Ass Off Canadian Edition? I'd like to see Stacy and Clinton make me look respectable in giant, clompy winter boots, a parka, and oven mitt-like ski gloves, achieving style that is both sexy but will also keep me from freezing to death in -40°C while waiting for the bus. Good luck with that, TLC.
D:{
Also, since I'm already feeling cynical and ranty, why are mothers always so chipper and smiley in paper towel commercials? You know what I'm talking about: a pristine white kitchen, a child sitting at the dinner table, and out of no where the little goon is splattering pasta sauce all over the place; enter mom, who gives little Bobby that little smile and shake of the head, as if saying "oh, you little scamp," and then proceeds to demonstrate how easily one sheet of Bounty can wipe up that tough spill. High five, little man!
Ugh. Seriously, what the hell? It's as if there is nothing more adorable in their sad world than their obnoxious, bratty four-year-old smearing chocolate sauce or finger paint all over the counter top. Fuck that. That shit would never fly in our house. That kid would get a sharp smack on the ass and be sent to their room without any freaking pasta, chocolate, or dinner at all to speak of. Little hoodlum. It's bad enough that parents already spend most of their time running around cleaning up after their kids already -- but then the brat thinks it's funny to smear their greasy little rugrat hands all over my counters? They should make a more realistic commercial where the parent shoves a roll of Bounty in little Bobby's grubby fingers and orders him to clean up his own mess. "And put some elbow grease into it!" as my dad used to say.
Sorry, I don't know what prompted the impulsive television ranting. Obviously I haven't had enough homework to keep me busy this semester. *Knock on wood* More blogging later when I actually have something to blog about.
Homework break.
Well, I've survived my first two weeks of being a student again. This whole going to school full-time and working in the evenings makes for some extra long days and is a whole unpleasant flashback to high school that I'm not loving, but what can you do. I figure as long as I continue to keep on top of the assignments and not give in to my horrible and occasional habit of procrastinating ¬_¬ then I should be able to finish this first semester without pulling a nutty. *Stern face is stern*
Overall, I'm enjoying the program so far, with exception of one of my five classes -- I have a lingering resentment left over from high school of anything resembling an English class, so I'm desperately trying to find a way to use transfer credits to drop my compulsory Eng 111 slot (which would detract a considerable portion of stress, frustration, and extra unnecessary workload from my life over the next four months.) However, with NAIT's record of epic failure in the area of establishing reputable course syllabi of any kind, I'm not holding out much hope. It's not that I'm worried I won't pass the class -- I've always done well in English classes, but that doesn't mean I enjoy them at all. It doesn't help that the instructor in this instance gives off a first impression of being a bit of an arrogant, condescending snot; I know I'm not the only one in the class who bristles each time we're addressed as if we were a group of eight-year-olds.
Speaking of fellow classmates, a perk of being in a very niche program like Library Technology is that practically everyone in it has some element of geekiness to them -- whether they're a book geek (okay, well almost all of us in this case are book geeks), an anime geek, a video game geek, or whatever else, there's usually at least something you have in common interest-wise with any random person you sit down beside. It's cool when your instructor says that one of her favorite books is Harry Potter and the entire rest of the class is all "FUCK YEAH HARRY POTTER!" :B and no one looks at anyone else like they're crazy. It makes for a pretty comfortable atmosphere even despite the huge age demographic among students. The library program has a fairly diverse mix of fresh-from-high-school teens, 20/30-somethings, and even middle aged and older individuals -- so the generation gap is definitely a little jarring at times... but again, we've all got our fair share of geek on so it's not too hard to make conversation.
Did I mention that there's a man in my class that looks like a slightly younger and less haggard looking Michael Douglas? It's awesome! I keep imagining him standing up in class and randomly bursting out into character monologues from Ghost and the Darkness or The American President. He would look rad in a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches.
On a completely un-school related note, a new season of America's Next Top Model started this week! Guilty-pleasure joy! XD
I have seen the future and it is space TV.
This past weekend a Shaw rep came and hooked up our brand spankin' new PVR! When we changed up some of our Shaw cable/internet plans we were pleasantly surprised when we found out a free PVR was built in to the new cable box, and let me tell you, I love the this magical box! The ability to pause live television is ingenious. "OOH OOH, LOOKIT ME! THERE GOES THE DOORBELL, NO WORRIES, I'LL JUST PAUSE MY SHOW LA LA LA LA!" *Happy armflail*
You know what else was happy armflaily-filled? Cowboys vs Aliens! I don't care who they are, those movie critics are crazy -- CvA was awesome. I mean, come on. It has cowboys. And it has aliens. There are no surprises in this movie and no disappointments. The movie delivers 100% on everything the trailer promises, (plus with the perk of sexy Daniel Craig in a cowboy hat!)
In comparison, you know which movie wasn't awesome? Captain America. I went in looking for the same radness that Iron Man and Robert Downey Jr. delivered; instead I got a two-hour long American propaganda-filled battle scene with bad acting and a bad script. Maybe the Marvel magic lies entirely with the wonderful Mr. Downey Jr? Or maybe Iron Man just has a way cooler costume.
Face it people, sometimes we humans are just nummy treats.
You know I have too much time on my hands when...I've been watching a little bit of Discovery Channel's Shark Week and it got me thinking. In all of the survivor accounts from shark attacks, someone always remarks that the shark always "mistakenly" attacked the person. You've heard it, all this crazy talk about "Oh, the shark thought the surfer was a seal."
The HELL? When a grizzly bear eats an innocent camper, no one ever says "Oh, well the bear mistook her for a giant salmon," or "Oh, the bear confused him for a gangly-looking, walking, talking raspberry bush." When a cougar stalks and kills a hiker, no one defends the cat by insisting that the hiker resembled a deer. So why are sharks let off the hook so easily? I'm not saying that the unfortunate victim need go all Captain Ahab vengeancy on said shark, I'm just out for a little equal accountability for all creatures big and small here.
I just don't buy into this "sharks don't eat people and if they do then the shark was just very confused" explanation. Yes, a lot of the reports insist that the shark was just curious by the fact that after taking a chomp out of the dude's leg, they all of a sudden abandon the idea and swim off. I personally think we could safely chalk that up to a more plausible theory -- that the shark in question who decides it's up for some Sunday Surfer Supper often realize that while we human prey are vastly stupid and easy to catch, we're also a royal pain in the ass once we're caught. After all, I doubt many seals they grab start to sucker punch them in the eye and kick them in their soft, fleshy gills. BAM! POW! BIFF! Maybe a Great White is just lazy when it comes to messing around with food that fights back and is quick to abandon us for some sweet smelling school of fish where all that is involved on Jaws' part is to swim straight and fast with his mouth wide open like a giant toothy fish net.
I have respect for sharks. I mean, obviously more so unbridled fear and overwhelming terror, but also respect. You think a shark can't tell the difference between a seal and a person? That they mistake the glint of light off an underwater wrist watch to be tasty fish? If I were a shark I'd be offended. I'd be all, "Fuck you, marine biologist, and guess what, you've just been added to my next weeks lunch menu. What's that, fancy pants shark researcher? You wanna say something about me too?"
So let's give the shark community a little credit here and say that more likely they were super hungry, there weren't currently any seals hanging around, "but hey, here's a convenient nibblet that was dumb enough to swim into my watery domain!" Luckily for humans, we have long agile limbs adapt at punching predators in the eyes with, which if I were a shark would be the last thing I'd want to put up with at the end of a long, grueling day. After all, I'd rather be labeled lazy than stupid. I have my shark pride to think of.
Books, fanfiction, and wet shirts.
Wishing it would thunderstorm. We haven't had a good thunderstorm yet this year!Two more books down, 130 more to go (though that number is constantly growing the more time I spend on Goodreads.)
His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik
Dragons! War! Oceanic battles! Dragons! Napoleon! Did I mention, dragons? It is exactly as it sounds, and if by that you think awesome then you, sir, are correct.
Sleek and proper English navy captain, William Laurence, finds himself wrenched away from the life and career and everything he adores when his crew captures a French ship carrying a rare dragon egg. Sure enough, poor ol' Will inevitably winds up with the obligation and responsibility of said dragon (named Temeraire) and is thrust into Britain's Aerial Corps to meet the fight against Bonaparte's advancing forces in the sky.
The book wastes no time with preambles of any sort. I have to admit that I had my doubts leaping right into the plot in the first chapter, much less the first six pages, and it all felt a little rushed before we had even left the starting line, what with trying to digest the whole alternate reality dragon quirk that doesn't get explained at all before you're thrust into it head first. That aside, it's an interesting concept of taking real historic events and putting a fantasy swing on it, and you get the feel for it pretty quick. I really loved Temeraire himself and the sort of naive but insightful view he has towards everyone and everything. I also really enjoyed the relationship Novik created between the dragons and their handlers; it's very obvious that Will and Temeraire's closeness is built on mutual respect and genuine affection on the half of both parties (which is something I felt lacking from other similar series' like Eragon.) By comparison, the neglect of one of the other dragon characters, Levitas, was heart wrenching. I don't ever cry reading books, but I came fairly close in the case of his small side story. ;_;
Since His Majesty's Dragon is based in a time of soldiers and war, there are a fair amount of battle scenes. I am not an action buff and I'm not particularly interested in the details or dynamics of warfare, so the parts where the story fell short for me were some of the especially longer battle or strategy scenes. I think it's especially difficult to read action sequences since they don't come across on the page as they do watching them on a screen, but fortunately the aerial battles were easier to follow here than a lot of other novel fight scenes I could mention. What I did find pretty nifty, however, were the creative crew systems and gear setups Novik dreamt up for the dragons -- it wasn't as simple as the hero just jumping on the back of his valiant draconian steed and shouting CHARGE! It added a sense of realism -- or at least as much realism as you can create when you're talking about more or less replacing fighter planes with mythical flying beasts.
I'll most likely dip back into the series for more in the future, if anything just for the possible chance for a scene with Napoleon Bonaparte whooping around in the sky ecstatically on the bag a giant flying lizard. :D As a footnote, the author of this series was apparently a fanfiction writer/LiveJournaler who lived in Edmonton for a winter (her biography remarks upon a "truly alarming coat" she now owns from her stint here, LOL.) I'd be interested to learn which fandom(s) she wrote for.
House Rules by Jodi Picoult
Picoult's newest book is about an eighteen-year-old boy with Asperger’s Syndrome ( which is a high-functioning type of autism for those who are not familiar) and an obsession for forensic analysis, who is arrested for the murder of his social skills tutor.
My only familiarity of Asperger's up to this point had been the character of Jerry Espenson from Boston Legal, which is one of the reasons why this book initially piqued my interest. It's one of those conditions that a lot of people rarely hear about and it's always a bit fascinating getting a bit of a deeper glimpse into the day-to-day rituals, complications, and struggles an individual and family touched by something like Asperger's lives with. According to various reviews I've read, Picoult's portrayal of AS here doesn't always necessarily ring true (though who am I to say); but despite that, I greatly enjoyed House Rules, with the exception of the ending which I thought was way too sudden and failed at really tying things up. I hate the ambiguity, it leaves me sitting there forever just craving for closure! D: That, and I and every other reader figured out the "twist" ending barely before the mystery of the crime had even been established. No surprises in this one.
Picoult's books are always a bit of a hit and miss, which is strange when you consider the plots are always the same: Family becomes entangled in a high stakes legal drama centered around a thought-provoking ethical or moral dilemma! Enlists the help of a charming lawyer who becomes emotionally entangled with his client and/or client's family! Cue some sort of angsty romance or affair thrown in for kicks that the parents use as an excuse for coping with the drama! OMG TWIST ENDING!
Despite the redundancy, I admire the way she's always almost able to make all of her characters endearing and relatable on some level, and I can't help but keep going back for more. There have been ones that I've loved such as Nineteen Minutes and My Sister's Keeper, and ones that fell flat with me like The Tenth Circle. Her upcoming 2011 novel reportedly centers around a lesbian couple and gay rights in regards to starting a family in America, which I hope will be another gooder~
Next up on my list is Homeland, the first book in the popular Dark Elf trilogy, but I got as far as the prologue and then somehow became distracted with reading my favorite General Grievous fanfic again for about the fourth or fifth time. (I keep a copy of the whole massive thing printed out that spans across two Duo-Tang because I enjoy it that much. And also, because I'm a giant nerd.) It's one of those stories that hasn't been updated in years and will probably never be completed, which makes me all sorts of sad because we all know about me and closure. :C <-- Epic sad face.
I finally finished watching the 1995 Pride and Prejudice mini-series with Jennifer Ehle and the fabulous Colin Firth. It wasn't all the fireworks and earth shattering amazing that I've heard it praised as, but it was enjoyable. Definitely something I liked to sit down to with a plate of tasty chocolate cake while watching and grinning each time they showed a closeup of Mr. Darcy. What a scowly bear. X3 I have to admit I was slightly disappointed with the infamous wet shirt scene. From all of the hype it's garnered over the years, I wound up with this when I was really expecting more of something like this. On the note of wet shirts, I never realized how many wet, white shirts Mr. Firth has actually donned over the years. I think P&P unintentionally type cast him and wet shirts everywhere. There should really be some sort of Oscar award for it all it's own.
P.S. I was dismayed to witness Jane Austen's obviously discriminatory view on red-heads. On behalf of gingers everywhere, I am hurt, Ms. Austen. Hurt and dismayed! :C
The only thing better than camping is coming home from camping.
Reclines in the cool, bug-free comfort of home.As enjoyable a time that you always have on a camping trip, as relaxing, and stress free, and wonderfully lazy and refreshing as they are, there's always this little inner breath of relief let out when you walk back in the door of your house afterward. I love camping, but I forget sometimes how much more I love indoor plumbing. Especially spider-free indoor plumbing. And the complete lack of irrational fear of being eaten by bears on your way to pee during the night. And the added bonus of a cool basement in which you can finally escape the scorching heat -- a new plus that I particularly welcomed after sweating my proverbial balls off outside all weekend.
Despite my earlier worries that my cat would disown me when we returned home after leaving him on his own for the first time, Iroh was so relieved to see us walk in the door and was so constantly underfoot that I was more afraid of accidentally stepping on him as we unpacked. The one whole day he spent alone seemed to have left him a little distraught and under the impression that he'd been abandoned, and more importantly, that he'd never be fed again (as I'm sadly sure his love for his breakfasts and dinners takes priority over both Mason and I.) Knowing him, he probably greedily gobbled down all of the extra helpings I food rations we left for him before Saturday morning even came and then spent the next twenty-four hours moping that his food bowl wasn't being refilled. In comparison, Toby is a pro at weekends alone now, he just looks up when we come in the door and is all "Oh, you're back. Splendid. Dinner time yet?"
WARNING: HOUSE SPOILERS TO FOLLOW!
Season finale of House on Monday was FABULOUS! XD For the last two minutes of the episode I was frozen in a position of wide-eyed, arm-raised, squealy triumphant rapture. It was like waiting for Josh and Donna through seven years of West Wing all over again. I'm as giddy as a school girl for the next season and what I hope will include lots of hot Huddy snogging (and oh yeah, probably some little side plot to do with Thirteen beginning her slow and sad decline with Huntington's disease as ambiguously implied at the end of the show, but I think we know which is the more enticing storyline. Or perhaps I'm just a horrible person...) In any event, depending on what they have planned it may end up being a fitting place to end the series, in my opinion.
