When my brother and I were little, there were always the special toys at Grandma's house. The toys that you couldn't wait to play with when you got there, because you never had them at home.
One of them was Candyland. There was just something magical about that old retro cardboard box held together with the brown packing tape that was smooth to the touch yet crunchy at the same time.
Yesterday, as I was volunteering like a good Samaritan at a toy drive, my brain stumbled upon this memory.
The memory of the little village.
It folded out to a full two blocks, with apartments, sidewalks, a little traffic light, and a hospital.
It was all very quaint and cute, if you didn't take into account the massacres.
Yes, that village was an instrument of extreme misfortune to the poor little people living in it. They didn't even have feet, just little stumps so they could fit into the cars, but they suffered nonetheless.
My brother and I could not wait to go get the village, set it up on the fluffy brown carpet in my Grandma's living room, and drop its inhabitants off of the traffic lights. We also pushed them out of windows, ran over them with cars, and staged massive automobile accidents.
But don't worry, there was a hospital. So it's all good.
Our favorite subject of attack was the ever-impeding, ever-annoying, ever-sappy ball of yellow feathers.
That's right. Big Bird.
If you thought that the rest of the village had it bad, then you may want to just stop reading now.
Or not. Because we inflicted the same hurt on Big Bird as we did all of the other unfortunate characters. He just was more experienced.
Try and make a happy lesson out of that, you stupid bird.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Christmas Senses
Christmas smells like trees and gingerbread. Like sweet vanilla. Like warm honey ham.
It feels like a crackling fire behind your back. Like the warm glow of a thermos of hot chocolate in your frozen hands. Like a cozy sweater, or a nice thick scarf wrapped in layers up to your chin.
Christmas sounds like bells, and choirs singing soft carols. Like the snapping and popping of firewood. Like the satisfying tear of a sheet of wrapping paper, or the long scrape of a piece of ribbon being curled.
It has so many tastes, it's hard to count. Christmas is cookies, and fudge, and candy canes, and hot drinks. It tastes like the bubble gum that you find in your stocking Christmas morning, or like soft mints from the basket on the counter.
It looks like people all bundled up against the cold, like snow settling gently on the tops of tree branches. Like silver and gold glitter, and Christmas movies, and reindeer, and the Zoo Lights. Like tall boots and long sleeves, and sweaters with little snowflakes stitched into them.
Christmas is a season all in itself. Everything about it is so warm and loving, and it's all about being cozy and cuddly.
It appeals to all of your senses, no matter where you are, and I absolutely love it.
It feels like a crackling fire behind your back. Like the warm glow of a thermos of hot chocolate in your frozen hands. Like a cozy sweater, or a nice thick scarf wrapped in layers up to your chin.
Christmas sounds like bells, and choirs singing soft carols. Like the snapping and popping of firewood. Like the satisfying tear of a sheet of wrapping paper, or the long scrape of a piece of ribbon being curled.
It has so many tastes, it's hard to count. Christmas is cookies, and fudge, and candy canes, and hot drinks. It tastes like the bubble gum that you find in your stocking Christmas morning, or like soft mints from the basket on the counter.
It looks like people all bundled up against the cold, like snow settling gently on the tops of tree branches. Like silver and gold glitter, and Christmas movies, and reindeer, and the Zoo Lights. Like tall boots and long sleeves, and sweaters with little snowflakes stitched into them.
Christmas is a season all in itself. Everything about it is so warm and loving, and it's all about being cozy and cuddly.
It appeals to all of your senses, no matter where you are, and I absolutely love it.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Walking observations
The end of my street smells like laundry detergent.
I smell it every day when I walk to school.
I don't understand.
I smell it every day when I walk to school.
I don't understand.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Peux-je parler francais? S'il-vous plait?
I wish that I was actually fluent in a language. So bad.
And unfortunately, I feel like the classes that I'm in are really a waste or of time, and they will never let me achieve my goal. I always translate stuff in my head, to try and see how much I actually know, and after two and a half years of French, I still can't really carry on a conversation.
It makes me sad.
I understand some basic rules, but then others I've completely forgotten. The system of teaching is rather ineffective. We will learn something, like direct/indirect object pronouns and their placement, but then not do anything with it for a year. So when we need to go back and use them or the reflexive or another like concept, we no longer remember how to use it.
So, in most cases, I just end up altering what I really wanted to say to fit the simpler form of the things that I actually can say.
I wish that I wasn't in school, and that travel wasn't so expensive, so that I could just go live in France for a month and learn my French. Or the same with Italy.
I've been trying to teach myself Italian, and although I haven't been able to put as much time toward it as I would like to in the past few weeks, I feel like I'm learning much more efficiently than I do in my French classes. Which is pathetic.
I know that my teachers can speak French. I know that they know the rules and all of the different ways of saying things.
Now can they pass that on to me? Please? Because being incapable of carrying on a decent conversation with more than the basic language is driving me crazy.
J'aime les langues. Maintenant, apprends-moi à leur parler.
Anybody know somebody who speaks another language? French? Italian? Send them my way.
I'm begging you.
And unfortunately, I feel like the classes that I'm in are really a waste or of time, and they will never let me achieve my goal. I always translate stuff in my head, to try and see how much I actually know, and after two and a half years of French, I still can't really carry on a conversation.
It makes me sad.
I understand some basic rules, but then others I've completely forgotten. The system of teaching is rather ineffective. We will learn something, like direct/indirect object pronouns and their placement, but then not do anything with it for a year. So when we need to go back and use them or the reflexive or another like concept, we no longer remember how to use it.
So, in most cases, I just end up altering what I really wanted to say to fit the simpler form of the things that I actually can say.
I wish that I wasn't in school, and that travel wasn't so expensive, so that I could just go live in France for a month and learn my French. Or the same with Italy.
I've been trying to teach myself Italian, and although I haven't been able to put as much time toward it as I would like to in the past few weeks, I feel like I'm learning much more efficiently than I do in my French classes. Which is pathetic.
I know that my teachers can speak French. I know that they know the rules and all of the different ways of saying things.
Now can they pass that on to me? Please? Because being incapable of carrying on a decent conversation with more than the basic language is driving me crazy.
J'aime les langues. Maintenant, apprends-moi à leur parler.
Anybody know somebody who speaks another language? French? Italian? Send them my way.
I'm begging you.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Train of Conciousness
So, in case you hadn't noticed, my last post makes no sense.
That's because I used the wrong word.
The whole time.
Whenever I said yawn, it's actually supposed to be snore... Whatever. You knew that, right? I mean they're totally the same thing. Haha. Yeah...
Maybe I was just so excited about the fact that I got a music player on my page that I wasn't really thinking clearly.
Yeah, that must have been it.
But really. My music player is nifty. Now you know just a little bit more about me, because you get to listen to all of my favorite songs while you read. Lovely, no?
Anyway. Not the point.
We're reading The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner in my english class right now. It's really confusing, and kind of boring merely because half the time you have no idea what's going on because it follows the thought process of a thirty-three year old mentally deficient man.
Who has absolutely no concept of time.
Italics may indicate a time change. Then again, they may not.
And I'm not talking hours or days here. I'm talking years. Decades, even.
And as if that wasn't confusing enough, then they throw in two characters named Quentin. One is a boy. The other is a baby girl.
But they don't specify.
And when you have no clue what is happening, and whether you're in 1924 or 1896 or 1910, it's really confusing.
You read half of the page thinking that Benjy is talking about his brother, and then your whole sense of reality is shattered when you realize that really, he's talking about his sister's child.
Moral of this story: People are random. Thought processes suck. And Quentin is a hermaphrodite.
That's because I used the wrong word.
The whole time.
Whenever I said yawn, it's actually supposed to be snore... Whatever. You knew that, right? I mean they're totally the same thing. Haha. Yeah...
Maybe I was just so excited about the fact that I got a music player on my page that I wasn't really thinking clearly.
Yeah, that must have been it.
But really. My music player is nifty. Now you know just a little bit more about me, because you get to listen to all of my favorite songs while you read. Lovely, no?
Anyway. Not the point.
We're reading The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner in my english class right now. It's really confusing, and kind of boring merely because half the time you have no idea what's going on because it follows the thought process of a thirty-three year old mentally deficient man.
Who has absolutely no concept of time.
Italics may indicate a time change. Then again, they may not.
And I'm not talking hours or days here. I'm talking years. Decades, even.
And as if that wasn't confusing enough, then they throw in two characters named Quentin. One is a boy. The other is a baby girl.
But they don't specify.
And when you have no clue what is happening, and whether you're in 1924 or 1896 or 1910, it's really confusing.
You read half of the page thinking that Benjy is talking about his brother, and then your whole sense of reality is shattered when you realize that really, he's talking about his sister's child.
Moral of this story: People are random. Thought processes suck. And Quentin is a hermaphrodite.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Yawn.
I don't yawn, for the record. But that's beside the point.
The other night I was pretending to be sleepy, because yes, I do that a lot, and I yawned.
And my mom started laughing at me.
I didn't understand. What was so funny about my yawn?
All I did was say honk-shoo.
Doesn't everybody yawn like that?
Apparently not.
Apparently that's something I made up when I was little.
And my mom thinks it's funny.
Don't worry, I know what you're probably thinking right now.
Honk-shoo.
Was I right?
Friday, November 26, 2010
Braaaaiiiiins
Mine don't work.
No, seriously, I think I have issues up in the noggin.
That would explain why I forget to post on here for weeks at a time.
Other than that, my brain just randomly puts thoughts into my head that don't really relate to what I'm doing. Or where I am. Or anything, for that matter.
Lately, there's been a surge of notes on facebook where people share thirty random facts that you never knew about them, and probably never wanted to know.
And because sharing this kind of unnecessary information happens to be my specialty, I shall do so here.
1. I want to be fluent in as many languages as possible. Namely French, Italian, and Russian.
2. I always think that grass is softer than it actually is. Therefore, my special little fantasy of laying in a field of grass and looking for bunnies in the sky is never actually going to be as glorious as I would like it to be.
3. I hate crying. If there was one human trait that I could train myself against, it would be that.
4. When I grow up, I want to drink wine. Mostly because of all the cute stuff you can put on the bottles.
5. I think I have a mini philosopher living in my head. He likes thinking deep thoughts at inappropriate times,
6. I really wish I could have plain, straight-across bangs. But with my hair, it never works out.
7. One of the hardest things for me to do is not make plans. I would love to just take a year and travel, go places without any destination or plans, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to bring myself to do it.
8. I want to be in movies. Not for the fame or the fortune, but because I'm fascinated by the whole system.
9. I'm constantly comparing our modern world with that of the past.
10. I'm a terrible artist. Yet somehow, I can do decent hair and makeup. I wonder how that is?
11. I want to be a journalist when I grow up. Although I'm fairly convinced that given a cape and a tiara, I could save the world.
12. Jewelry makes me happy. Therefore, I have massive amounts of it.
13. Robes are the most frustrating piece of clothing ever. They never stay were you want them to.
14. I wish my life was a musical. Then, when I broke out in song, people wouldn't give me funny looks.
15. I love my brother. I like to make fun of him, and write things like "I smell like poopy butt" in his notes, but I still love him.
16. I'm not an excruciatingly social person. If a relationship is taking more energy than it's worth, I don't bother with it.
17. I could fill my wardrobe with lace, pearls, and vintage and be happy for an eternity.
18. Audrey Hepburn is one of my favorite actresses, even though I've only seen a couple of her movies.
19. I thoroughly enjoy brutal video games. In a world as selectively sheltered as today's, everybody needs a little harmless violence.
20. Only my true friends have seen the full spectrum of my emotions and still love me for it. And trust me, that spectrum is broad.
21. I hate sell-outs. As soon as a book or movie or something gets too ridiculously popular, I don't like it anymore.
22. Historical fiction is my nerdy pleasure. I just spent a whole weekend doing nothing but playing historical fiction video games, reading historical fiction books, and watching historical fiction movies. Don't judge.
23. Judgers be haters. Naw, I'm just kidding. I judge all the time.
24. Snow globes are my pride and joy.
25. I laugh to myself in public. I can't help it.
26. I have a box in my room called "Le boite de penser". I have vowed to never put anything in it, as I have painted the words "don't you wonder why it's empty?" on the inside.
27. As much as I sometimes want to punch people in the head and banish them to Iceland, I don't really hate anybody.
28. I have slight o.c.d. about things being even.
29. I've seen each of the Lord of the Rings movies at least 25 times.
30. I'm a star whiner. Just ask my family. I am Emma, the Queen of Whining.
31. Yeah, I'm cool, I'm doing thirty-one.
I'm kind of a jerk sometimes, because I find it more virtuous to simply share what you're thinking and be truthful than to search too hard for an overly tactful way to share your thoughts, and in effect not actually share them.
There. I bet you know way more about me than you ever needed to. Either that, or you are deeply intrigued and are now seriously contemplating being my stalker. If the first, I apologize for using up your ever so precious time. If the second, I don't blame you. I would too.
No, seriously, I think I have issues up in the noggin.
That would explain why I forget to post on here for weeks at a time.
Other than that, my brain just randomly puts thoughts into my head that don't really relate to what I'm doing. Or where I am. Or anything, for that matter.
Lately, there's been a surge of notes on facebook where people share thirty random facts that you never knew about them, and probably never wanted to know.
And because sharing this kind of unnecessary information happens to be my specialty, I shall do so here.
1. I want to be fluent in as many languages as possible. Namely French, Italian, and Russian.
2. I always think that grass is softer than it actually is. Therefore, my special little fantasy of laying in a field of grass and looking for bunnies in the sky is never actually going to be as glorious as I would like it to be.
3. I hate crying. If there was one human trait that I could train myself against, it would be that.
4. When I grow up, I want to drink wine. Mostly because of all the cute stuff you can put on the bottles.
5. I think I have a mini philosopher living in my head. He likes thinking deep thoughts at inappropriate times,
6. I really wish I could have plain, straight-across bangs. But with my hair, it never works out.
7. One of the hardest things for me to do is not make plans. I would love to just take a year and travel, go places without any destination or plans, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to bring myself to do it.
8. I want to be in movies. Not for the fame or the fortune, but because I'm fascinated by the whole system.
9. I'm constantly comparing our modern world with that of the past.
10. I'm a terrible artist. Yet somehow, I can do decent hair and makeup. I wonder how that is?
11. I want to be a journalist when I grow up. Although I'm fairly convinced that given a cape and a tiara, I could save the world.
12. Jewelry makes me happy. Therefore, I have massive amounts of it.
13. Robes are the most frustrating piece of clothing ever. They never stay were you want them to.
14. I wish my life was a musical. Then, when I broke out in song, people wouldn't give me funny looks.
15. I love my brother. I like to make fun of him, and write things like "I smell like poopy butt" in his notes, but I still love him.
16. I'm not an excruciatingly social person. If a relationship is taking more energy than it's worth, I don't bother with it.
17. I could fill my wardrobe with lace, pearls, and vintage and be happy for an eternity.
18. Audrey Hepburn is one of my favorite actresses, even though I've only seen a couple of her movies.
19. I thoroughly enjoy brutal video games. In a world as selectively sheltered as today's, everybody needs a little harmless violence.
20. Only my true friends have seen the full spectrum of my emotions and still love me for it. And trust me, that spectrum is broad.
21. I hate sell-outs. As soon as a book or movie or something gets too ridiculously popular, I don't like it anymore.
22. Historical fiction is my nerdy pleasure. I just spent a whole weekend doing nothing but playing historical fiction video games, reading historical fiction books, and watching historical fiction movies. Don't judge.
23. Judgers be haters. Naw, I'm just kidding. I judge all the time.
24. Snow globes are my pride and joy.
25. I laugh to myself in public. I can't help it.
26. I have a box in my room called "Le boite de penser". I have vowed to never put anything in it, as I have painted the words "don't you wonder why it's empty?" on the inside.
27. As much as I sometimes want to punch people in the head and banish them to Iceland, I don't really hate anybody.
28. I have slight o.c.d. about things being even.
29. I've seen each of the Lord of the Rings movies at least 25 times.
30. I'm a star whiner. Just ask my family. I am Emma, the Queen of Whining.
31. Yeah, I'm cool, I'm doing thirty-one.
I'm kind of a jerk sometimes, because I find it more virtuous to simply share what you're thinking and be truthful than to search too hard for an overly tactful way to share your thoughts, and in effect not actually share them.
There. I bet you know way more about me than you ever needed to. Either that, or you are deeply intrigued and are now seriously contemplating being my stalker. If the first, I apologize for using up your ever so precious time. If the second, I don't blame you. I would too.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Do I Need Counseling for That?
I have a problem.
I have separation anxiety.
Not from people, though. From movies. Or T.V. shows.
I have this nasty little habit of watching every single special feature on the last disk before I have the heart to take the bloody thing out and put it back in its case.
It's not such a bad habit, actually. I rather enjoy it. One can gain so much insight into the actors and the workings of the show by watching the behind-the-scenes interviews.
And behind-the-scenes documentaries.
And previews.
And gag reels.
And deleted scenes.
And bonus content.
There is so much to be learned and so much appreciation to be gained through watching these special features. Trust me, I would know.
I just finished the first season of Chuck, which my lovely brother was kind enough to get me addicted to. And even though I only had one episode left when I sat down to watch it, I didn't get back up until about two hours later.
My butt fell asleep.
And even when I finished them all, I still couldn't take the disk out.
Instead, I watched the gag reel a second time.
What? It was funny.
I have separation anxiety.
Not from people, though. From movies. Or T.V. shows.
I have this nasty little habit of watching every single special feature on the last disk before I have the heart to take the bloody thing out and put it back in its case.
It's not such a bad habit, actually. I rather enjoy it. One can gain so much insight into the actors and the workings of the show by watching the behind-the-scenes interviews.
And behind-the-scenes documentaries.
And previews.
And gag reels.
And deleted scenes.
And bonus content.
There is so much to be learned and so much appreciation to be gained through watching these special features. Trust me, I would know.
I just finished the first season of Chuck, which my lovely brother was kind enough to get me addicted to. And even though I only had one episode left when I sat down to watch it, I didn't get back up until about two hours later.
My butt fell asleep.
And even when I finished them all, I still couldn't take the disk out.
Instead, I watched the gag reel a second time.
What? It was funny.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Watering the... Snow?
It's finally turning into winter in lovely old Colorado.
Mind you, I'm not complaining. I much prefer the sunshine to the frosty wind.
But the fact remains that the temperature has indeed dropped.
All I heard in the hallways today was "Snow?"
"Hey, did you know it's gonna snow soon?"
"Man, I hope it snows today."
"I can't wait for the snow. SKI SEASON BABY!"
So why was it that when I left my house for the show tonight, I heard the sound of water pounding on the pavement?
It wasn't rain. And it certainly wasn't snow.
Judging from the fact that only one area of the road even appeared to be wet at all, I would say that the mysterious precipitation wasn't even coming from the sky.
And that's when I realized.
The buildings across the street were running their sprinklers. In 30 degree weather.
What exactly were they hoping to accomplish?
And judging by the outdoor situation that will be descending on us in the next few days, the only reasonable goal they could possibly hope to accomplish would be to freeze up their pipes.
If that was in fact their goal, then bravo, ladies and gentlemen. The ETA for your accomplishment should be about three days, tops.
Congratulations. You're an idiot.
Mind you, I'm not complaining. I much prefer the sunshine to the frosty wind.
But the fact remains that the temperature has indeed dropped.
All I heard in the hallways today was "Snow?"
"Hey, did you know it's gonna snow soon?"
"Man, I hope it snows today."
"I can't wait for the snow. SKI SEASON BABY!"
So why was it that when I left my house for the show tonight, I heard the sound of water pounding on the pavement?
It wasn't rain. And it certainly wasn't snow.
Judging from the fact that only one area of the road even appeared to be wet at all, I would say that the mysterious precipitation wasn't even coming from the sky.
And that's when I realized.
The buildings across the street were running their sprinklers. In 30 degree weather.
What exactly were they hoping to accomplish?
And judging by the outdoor situation that will be descending on us in the next few days, the only reasonable goal they could possibly hope to accomplish would be to freeze up their pipes.
If that was in fact their goal, then bravo, ladies and gentlemen. The ETA for your accomplishment should be about three days, tops.
Congratulations. You're an idiot.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Talent
I often find myself wondering if I actually have any talent. It's almost impossible to tell for yourself how convincing your acting really is. So many times I find myself doubting.
It was replaced by her butt.
And then I watch somebody who is truly bad.
And my faith is restored.
Like last night. I went to Mines to see my bro in a play, which, by the way, he was fantastic in.
But that cannot be said for all of them.
Like the girl with the poofy ponytail.
Umm, hello? It's the 1940's. Or something like that. Maybe 1930's. Or 50's. Whatever.
Point being, NO PONYTAIL. Especially not for you. Because your hair is ugly.
But I'm being petty. It wasn't just her appearance that was painful to the senses. Allow me to ellucidate.
She sucked.
I mean, awful. Bad, bad, bad. Poo.
For one thing, she was always smiling. So as soon as she came on stage, you saw her weird little smile lurking on her face, like it knew it wasn't really supposed to be there but it didn't have anywhere better to go.
Sometimes, though, her smile disappeared.
It was replaced by her butt.
Here's how a typical scene would go: She would come onstage crying about the dead body or whatever (I mean come on, everybody else can hold it together, you silly maid), and while she was making these awful noises, the awkward little smile on her face would twist the noises until they sounded like she was crying into a vuvuzela.
A soon as she got the front of the stage, she would turn to face the actors. Meaning turning away from us.
So not only did we get to listen to the pathetic noises coming out of her inappropriately expressive mouth, we got to look at her backside as well.
Talk about best of both worlds, right?
Oh wait, wrong expression. I meant worst.
Thank god I'm not that bad.
Oh, I forgot to mention...
She lisped.
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