Saturday, December 8, 2012
Teeth Whitening
I was recently given a free sample of Crest 3D Whitestrips. I was never really worried about the color of my teeth; I was more concerned with how crooked they were. However, I gave these a try and I was surprised. I was supposed to use them for 20 days, but I found that my teeth had become very sensitive after 5 days. At that point I stopped the treatment. After only 5 days I was surprised to find that my teeth were noticeably whiter. However, having whiter teeth was not a huge concern of mine and the sensitivity had become a constant annoyance. If you're desperate to have whiter teeth this might be a good idea. It worked well and was pretty easy. All I had to do was wear the strips for half an hour everyday. But, as I mentioned, the amount of pain I experienced after just five days was disconcerting.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Literary Timeline
I had to create a Reading Timeline for my Writing Publication class. That would be what this is:
Writing and reading were always a natural part of my life. As a child, my mother read to me every night. We started with children’s books: including Farmer Duck, the Amelia Bedelia series, and Dr. Seuss books. She also made up a series of stories that she later typed up. Dr. Seuss is, of course, always a lesson in rhyme and word choice, while Farmer Duck created well-developed characters, especially for a children’s book. Amelia Bedelia, a book majorly about the consequences of misunderstanding figures of speech, brought to life meanings and usages of figurative language.
Eventually we moved on to more mature books. We read Little Women, The Secret Garden, and Anne of Green Gables. I’d take turns reading these books aloud with her, and I soon began reading on my own.
As a second grader I took out a Dr. Seuss book every week for the entire year. I’d memorized them as a child, and my favorites included Yertle the Turtle and The Butter Battle Book. The next year I started a habit that I wouldn’t soon drop. I just read the books my friends gave me, and we started writing stories together.
When I did pick books for myself, I almost always chose historical fiction, such as A Voyage from Poland during World War II or Laura Ingalls Wilder books. They allow you to enjoy characters while exploring a different time and place. They’re success relied on creating a believable setting. The events of such books often have more of an impact of history or more dramatic consequences than those of modern day books.
I also read The Sweet Valley Twins series. I was fixated on them for years and wrote many short stories inspired by them. These short stories were the only voluntary writing that I ever really completed. I had dreams of being an author all throughout my childhood and I started many pieces, but these were my only real accomplishments.
The Outsiders was the first book I loved as a teenager, and one of the only books I read that focused on male characters. It also sparked my only real interest in poetry, because I loved the Robert Frost poem in it.
When I started high school, I began letting my cousin choose all of my books. She liked darker Young Adult popular fiction books like Crank by Ellen Hopkins and the Twilight Series. She also convinced me to read the Harry Potter Series. Ellen Hopkins helped me realize that creativity and meaning extend to the form of one’s writing, and Harry Potter taught me about the idea of continuity in a story. It gave me the idea that a story exists in the words written in the page and the implied ideas and actions that aren’t explicitly written out. I think a good story is one that the author knows all of the details of, but only shares the certain perspective he or she wants to reveal.
I left high school only really loving Jane Eyre and Exodus by Leon Uris. Exodus taught me that all really spectacular books don’t always have happy endings. Some are open-ended and unpleasant.
After high school, I suddenly decided to become an English major and felt that I needed to catch up on all of the classic writing that I was never really exposed to. I slowly but surely finished Pride and Prejudice. This was another story in which I felt that the author knew her story inside and out and knew what truths to reveal and what to hide. I was very affected by her ability to create complex characters and make me hate them, and then completely change my mind about them. The rest of my really pathetic classics kick left me pretty burnt out on Jane Austen and a little hostile toward The Great Gatsby and Catcher and the Rye (which I never even came close to finishing).
Then, a friend of mine convinced me to read a bunch of books that were all the same. I learned that there are a lot of books about successful career women in New York who just want to find the right guy. I also learned that I hate these books. See Meg Cabot and Emily Griffin. This lead me to sort of panic about the difference between intertextuality and complete unoriginality. I find it very hard to write because I want to write something fresh and interesting, but the human experience can only be so varied.
Recently, I took an Irish Literature course which taught me a lot about owning a language and how language helps or restricts a person’s self-expression. The Picture of Dorian Gray helped me let go of the idea that a book needs a quick and steady plot. This book was more about ideas and life philosophy. The characters and the events of their lives were secondary.
Finally, I was truly inspired by David Sedaris’s Me Talk Pretty One Day and “What I Learned”. He does a wonderful job of making real life feel strange and fascinating.
Articles, blogs, and blog posts that I have enjoyed include:
-“Thirteen Observations made by Lemony Snicket while watching Occupy Wall Street from a Discreet Distance”
-HighKicksandHighHopes by Keltie Colleen
This blog is not especially well-written and says the same thing in every post, yet I still enjoyed reading it. I think I just admired her honesty and her ability to say the exact same thing in many many different ways.
-“Sell the Girls” by Maureen Johnson
-Thebeautydepartment.com
-And occasionally the New York Times, mostly their section about Amazon Inc.
Writing and reading were always a natural part of my life. As a child, my mother read to me every night. We started with children’s books: including Farmer Duck, the Amelia Bedelia series, and Dr. Seuss books. She also made up a series of stories that she later typed up. Dr. Seuss is, of course, always a lesson in rhyme and word choice, while Farmer Duck created well-developed characters, especially for a children’s book. Amelia Bedelia, a book majorly about the consequences of misunderstanding figures of speech, brought to life meanings and usages of figurative language.
Eventually we moved on to more mature books. We read Little Women, The Secret Garden, and Anne of Green Gables. I’d take turns reading these books aloud with her, and I soon began reading on my own.
As a second grader I took out a Dr. Seuss book every week for the entire year. I’d memorized them as a child, and my favorites included Yertle the Turtle and The Butter Battle Book. The next year I started a habit that I wouldn’t soon drop. I just read the books my friends gave me, and we started writing stories together.
When I did pick books for myself, I almost always chose historical fiction, such as A Voyage from Poland during World War II or Laura Ingalls Wilder books. They allow you to enjoy characters while exploring a different time and place. They’re success relied on creating a believable setting. The events of such books often have more of an impact of history or more dramatic consequences than those of modern day books.
I also read The Sweet Valley Twins series. I was fixated on them for years and wrote many short stories inspired by them. These short stories were the only voluntary writing that I ever really completed. I had dreams of being an author all throughout my childhood and I started many pieces, but these were my only real accomplishments.
The Outsiders was the first book I loved as a teenager, and one of the only books I read that focused on male characters. It also sparked my only real interest in poetry, because I loved the Robert Frost poem in it.
When I started high school, I began letting my cousin choose all of my books. She liked darker Young Adult popular fiction books like Crank by Ellen Hopkins and the Twilight Series. She also convinced me to read the Harry Potter Series. Ellen Hopkins helped me realize that creativity and meaning extend to the form of one’s writing, and Harry Potter taught me about the idea of continuity in a story. It gave me the idea that a story exists in the words written in the page and the implied ideas and actions that aren’t explicitly written out. I think a good story is one that the author knows all of the details of, but only shares the certain perspective he or she wants to reveal.
I left high school only really loving Jane Eyre and Exodus by Leon Uris. Exodus taught me that all really spectacular books don’t always have happy endings. Some are open-ended and unpleasant.
After high school, I suddenly decided to become an English major and felt that I needed to catch up on all of the classic writing that I was never really exposed to. I slowly but surely finished Pride and Prejudice. This was another story in which I felt that the author knew her story inside and out and knew what truths to reveal and what to hide. I was very affected by her ability to create complex characters and make me hate them, and then completely change my mind about them. The rest of my really pathetic classics kick left me pretty burnt out on Jane Austen and a little hostile toward The Great Gatsby and Catcher and the Rye (which I never even came close to finishing).
Then, a friend of mine convinced me to read a bunch of books that were all the same. I learned that there are a lot of books about successful career women in New York who just want to find the right guy. I also learned that I hate these books. See Meg Cabot and Emily Griffin. This lead me to sort of panic about the difference between intertextuality and complete unoriginality. I find it very hard to write because I want to write something fresh and interesting, but the human experience can only be so varied.
Recently, I took an Irish Literature course which taught me a lot about owning a language and how language helps or restricts a person’s self-expression. The Picture of Dorian Gray helped me let go of the idea that a book needs a quick and steady plot. This book was more about ideas and life philosophy. The characters and the events of their lives were secondary.
Finally, I was truly inspired by David Sedaris’s Me Talk Pretty One Day and “What I Learned”. He does a wonderful job of making real life feel strange and fascinating.
Articles, blogs, and blog posts that I have enjoyed include:
-“Thirteen Observations made by Lemony Snicket while watching Occupy Wall Street from a Discreet Distance”
-HighKicksandHighHopes by Keltie Colleen
This blog is not especially well-written and says the same thing in every post, yet I still enjoyed reading it. I think I just admired her honesty and her ability to say the exact same thing in many many different ways.
-“Sell the Girls” by Maureen Johnson
-Thebeautydepartment.com
-And occasionally the New York Times, mostly their section about Amazon Inc.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Reading Responsibly =P
I'm an English Major. When did I decide to become one? Like, the summer before I started college. I'd never really thought about what I would major in in college. One day I just busted out a catalog and read up on all of the major options at my university. The only thing that made my eyes sparkle was reading about all of the Literature courses. So, I just went with it. I took AP classes in high school. I did not take AP English classes. I did well in English, but I did well in everything. I'm just a good note-taker and critical thinker. I'm also marvelously well-organized. Eventually, (it took awhile) I came to the realization that I was not even a little well-read. I read a lot as a teen-child-person, but just YA stuff. I definitely hadn't read all that much in the previous year. In my senior English class we watched The Holiday(twice), Paranormal Activity(also twice), The Patriot, Braveheart, and a few more movies that I don't remember. It was a joke.
So, I decided to work on exposing myself to new Literature and catching up. I.... don't know how that went. I forced myself to read a lot of classic books. I didn't enjoy them, but I saw the value in them. That's not entirely true. I enjoyed parts of them. But, it wasn't fun. I really had to force myself to read them. That's not how I'm used to reading. The ideas they present are interesting to think about, but the plot and the characters are respectively slow and shallow compared to the YA books I devoured.
[Tangent: I just finished The Picture of Dorian Gray. How long is the line I need to be in to rip off Lord Henry's balls? I'm willing to wait. It was fine. It was dark and dramatic, but mostly it was a hundred some odd pages of Wilde's beliefs on life, and art, and beauty. I'm an uber fan of the underdog, the outcasts, and the poor, so this book got under my skin with its elitism. I don't enjoy rich people who don't want to get their hands dirty with like...reality. These men were all too sensitive to acknowledge that the poor existed. It offended their delicate sensibilities. I would take a book about an ugly person who lived in a dirt hut over this any day.]
Anyway, recently I've been reading a shit-ton of books that I don't like. (Recently being the past 2 years.) It gets mothereffing old. Sometimes books are just slow to really get going, so I always finish the books I read. You never know. I trudged uphill through Jane Eyre, but it became one of my favorite books. But, I've had about enough. I've been thrifting so many books recently, and I have a pile to read that I'm just not that excited about. I won a goodreads book called Tiger Lily, and that comes with the responsibility of reading it quickly and reviewing it (still haven't read the last one I won). I'm trying and it's fine, but I just don't care about it. It's whatever. It's inconsequential. So, I went to the library (the SUCKASS library that we have in this town) and grabbed a whole new stack to try to find something that I don't hate. I kind of failed, in that I grabbed a bunch of F. Scott Fitzgerald. I read The Great Gatsby, but I didn't like it. (Nick was extremely dull, and I hated Daisy. I have rich people issues. I need to get over it.) But, I did grab a book that I FINALLY LOVE. I haven't loved a book in years. It's Beauty Queens by Libba Bray. I love it so much. It's all women, and they're stranded on a desert island (fuck yes huts!), and there is motherfucking plot and character development. GREAT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, even though there are like 25 main characters and other subplot characters. I am all up in these people's business, and they're doing things, and saying things, and I am finally happy.
There wasn't a point to this. I'm just trying to hone my skills and figure out what I like. I want to publish books, and I need to find my niche and focus on it. I know that I'm passionate about Literature, I just need to figure out the specifics.
So, I decided to work on exposing myself to new Literature and catching up. I.... don't know how that went. I forced myself to read a lot of classic books. I didn't enjoy them, but I saw the value in them. That's not entirely true. I enjoyed parts of them. But, it wasn't fun. I really had to force myself to read them. That's not how I'm used to reading. The ideas they present are interesting to think about, but the plot and the characters are respectively slow and shallow compared to the YA books I devoured.
[Tangent: I just finished The Picture of Dorian Gray. How long is the line I need to be in to rip off Lord Henry's balls? I'm willing to wait. It was fine. It was dark and dramatic, but mostly it was a hundred some odd pages of Wilde's beliefs on life, and art, and beauty. I'm an uber fan of the underdog, the outcasts, and the poor, so this book got under my skin with its elitism. I don't enjoy rich people who don't want to get their hands dirty with like...reality. These men were all too sensitive to acknowledge that the poor existed. It offended their delicate sensibilities. I would take a book about an ugly person who lived in a dirt hut over this any day.]
Anyway, recently I've been reading a shit-ton of books that I don't like. (Recently being the past 2 years.) It gets mothereffing old. Sometimes books are just slow to really get going, so I always finish the books I read. You never know. I trudged uphill through Jane Eyre, but it became one of my favorite books. But, I've had about enough. I've been thrifting so many books recently, and I have a pile to read that I'm just not that excited about. I won a goodreads book called Tiger Lily, and that comes with the responsibility of reading it quickly and reviewing it (still haven't read the last one I won). I'm trying and it's fine, but I just don't care about it. It's whatever. It's inconsequential. So, I went to the library (the SUCKASS library that we have in this town) and grabbed a whole new stack to try to find something that I don't hate. I kind of failed, in that I grabbed a bunch of F. Scott Fitzgerald. I read The Great Gatsby, but I didn't like it. (Nick was extremely dull, and I hated Daisy. I have rich people issues. I need to get over it.) But, I did grab a book that I FINALLY LOVE. I haven't loved a book in years. It's Beauty Queens by Libba Bray. I love it so much. It's all women, and they're stranded on a desert island (fuck yes huts!), and there is motherfucking plot and character development. GREAT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, even though there are like 25 main characters and other subplot characters. I am all up in these people's business, and they're doing things, and saying things, and I am finally happy.
There wasn't a point to this. I'm just trying to hone my skills and figure out what I like. I want to publish books, and I need to find my niche and focus on it. I know that I'm passionate about Literature, I just need to figure out the specifics.
My Favorite Nail Polish
When my mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas last year, I told her green nail polish. Dark green. I didn't see it going well, but I wanted a color that wasn't pink or purple. It went awesome.
She bought me one of these. The brand is Sinful Colors. It's $2 at Walgreens, and you can also find it at Target. These things don't chip...much. I don't own a nail polish that doesn't chip, and top coat just makes a bigger mess in my opinion. But, these are the best. They last the longest, and the colors are great. Also $2!!!! This is the one she bought me.
If you do two coats it looks almost black. If you do one it's a nice pine green.
I bought the other two.
My only complaint would be that they are on the runny side. They're not even remotely thick, especially Soul Mate (the peach one).
She bought me one of these. The brand is Sinful Colors. It's $2 at Walgreens, and you can also find it at Target. These things don't chip...much. I don't own a nail polish that doesn't chip, and top coat just makes a bigger mess in my opinion. But, these are the best. They last the longest, and the colors are great. Also $2!!!! This is the one she bought me.
If you do two coats it looks almost black. If you do one it's a nice pine green.
I bought the other two.
My only complaint would be that they are on the runny side. They're not even remotely thick, especially Soul Mate (the peach one).
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Twilight is fine.
I’m starting to hate people who hate Twilight infinitely more than I hate people who love it. I never have to hear about how sexy Edward Cullen is or how much someone wants to be Bella Swan anymore. Almost every day though, I do have hear that “Twilight sucks!” or “Vampires are gay”. I’m so sick and tired of being in literature classes and having pointless “discussions” about Twilight. If someone doesn’t know what to say whenever people are talking about books at all, they just say that Twilight is stupid. Then, everyone agrees, but no one says anything that is at all worth my time. There is more to literature than Twilight and Harry Potter. Go read something—ANYTHING—else.
I understand that it was obnoxious to have Twilight extolled as if it were Shakespeare’s finest work when it got popular, because it’s nothing of the sort. It sucks to have it shoved in your face all the time, but now you’ve become the obnoxious pain in the ass. If you’re going to criticize it, then at least come up with a thoughtful argument. This subject has been beaten to dust. Say something new or shut up.
There are plenty of books that are just as good/bad as Twilight. There are thousands that are much better and thousands that are much worse. MOVE ON. You don’t need to be either ashamed or proud of liking Twilight. Do what you want and, at least in university literature and writing courses, TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE.
EDIT: See this video by youtube.com/jsutkissmyfrog
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TJdJV3yeHFY
I understand that it was obnoxious to have Twilight extolled as if it were Shakespeare’s finest work when it got popular, because it’s nothing of the sort. It sucks to have it shoved in your face all the time, but now you’ve become the obnoxious pain in the ass. If you’re going to criticize it, then at least come up with a thoughtful argument. This subject has been beaten to dust. Say something new or shut up.
There are plenty of books that are just as good/bad as Twilight. There are thousands that are much better and thousands that are much worse. MOVE ON. You don’t need to be either ashamed or proud of liking Twilight. Do what you want and, at least in university literature and writing courses, TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE.
EDIT: See this video by youtube.com/jsutkissmyfrog
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TJdJV3yeHFY
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Prom
So because I'm a completely nonconforming individual, I'm really into Glee. And of course tonight's episode got me thinking about prom, which is never a good thing. My prom is sort of freakishly similar to Mercedes's prom. Our dresses were very much a like: SEE ABOVE. Pink. Beaded. Pickups. Cheap.,as was our situations. I did not want to go to prom. I didn't like to dance. I didn't have a lot of friends, and I didn't have a date. (Like Sam, I didn't have money either.)I especially didn't want to go because my best friend had an obnoxious boyfriend and after homecoming I decided that I was definitely not going to prom with them. Then they broke up. But I still wasn't going to prom. My friend, however, decided that she needed some male attention and we were hanging out with this boy who started talking about prom. He said we should hang out there and stuff. I told him I probably wouldn't go, but we'd hang out if I did. Somehow, all my Rachel's fault, he decided that we had both agreed to be his dates. He then insisted that we all ride in a limo. (I hate limos.) I don't remember, but I guess that I agreed to all of this somehow. But John Groff gets all jealous and asks my Rachel out to prom like a week or two before prom. So she just adds him into our group. This doesn't matter to me too much because I don't want to go to prom, so none of it matters. Then we go to prom. Our Sam spends the night telling me how much he loves Rachel. John wanders off all of the time and Rachel whines. Then I dance by myself a lot until John convinces the guy that I like to pity dance with me. I have now developed a sort of twitch every time I think about prom because it was a pity dance and I was humiliated. He didn't like me back, which was fine. I just don't want to dance with someone who doesn't want to dance with me. It was horrible. So Mercedes and I had the same prom, but hers was cute and mine was humiliating and irritating. I wish I could do it all over again. I would go. Alone. And I would dance like crazy. I love dancing now and I'd love to go dancing somewhere that's not a sleezy club. So now I really feel like going to a prom. I hate prom.
Friday, February 4, 2011
I'm too old for an Identity Crisis.
So in college I've adopted an I-don't-give-a-damn kind of philosophy. I'll try anything, always with no expectations, and make the best of it. The problem with this is that it goes against everything I've always been. I tend to be modest, shy, reserved, and conservative. I've always been, and still am, completely okay with this. However, everyday those words describe me a little less than the day before. I tire of doing things that I say I never will. I got twitter, and it's awesome. I went to a club, and had one of the best nights of my life. I drank at a party, and it was fine. I don't think any of these things are wrong. They just weren't for me. I spend a lot of time on introspection and I know a lot about myself. So it's weird to say things I've always said about myself and have them suddenly feel wrong. I didn't like my life before this, but I liked who I was. Now my life is better, but I don't understand myself at all. I've found myself in a very moderate position. Like I don't really tweet much, I went to a club once, and I drank kind of a lot, but I was never really drunk. I'm no longer any kind of an extreme. It's a good way to be, but it makes it hard to define yourself. I guess I'll figure it out. Everything in moderation right. It really has made me happy.
A bigger issue that I'm having is that I can't really be bothered with other people's problems anymore. One of the things I loved most about myself was that I could listen to anybody talk about anything for hours on end and maintain at least mild interest. I've listened patiently to the most circular arguments and stupid pointless problems while offering solid advice. But I just can't do it anymore. People have always been ignoring me. I get talked over and ignored every time I open my mouth. It's what has made me such a good listener. I know how valuable it is to have someone to talk to. I could always just kind of suck it up, but now I can't. I listen, and I help, and I care and then I try to share a little about myself. I ask people to listen and they refuse even though I've let them pour all of their problems all over me. I spend so much time drowning in my and everyone else's problems and I just can't hold it all in anymore, but no one cares. I can't just listen to people because I expect something back. It's not fair to say okay I'll care about you, but only if you do something for me. That's not caring. You can't attach strings to these situations. But if someone does listen to me I think "Wow, I owe him/her one. I hope they know that they can come to me for anything." If you can trust me with everything you hold dear, why can't you care about me. More importantly, how is that no one cares. Every friend I've ever had has dumped all of their issues on me and then never bothered to pick up their phone when I call, has never had anything to say about my problems, or the ability to listen to them. It would be okay if it wasn't everybody ever.
A bigger issue that I'm having is that I can't really be bothered with other people's problems anymore. One of the things I loved most about myself was that I could listen to anybody talk about anything for hours on end and maintain at least mild interest. I've listened patiently to the most circular arguments and stupid pointless problems while offering solid advice. But I just can't do it anymore. People have always been ignoring me. I get talked over and ignored every time I open my mouth. It's what has made me such a good listener. I know how valuable it is to have someone to talk to. I could always just kind of suck it up, but now I can't. I listen, and I help, and I care and then I try to share a little about myself. I ask people to listen and they refuse even though I've let them pour all of their problems all over me. I spend so much time drowning in my and everyone else's problems and I just can't hold it all in anymore, but no one cares. I can't just listen to people because I expect something back. It's not fair to say okay I'll care about you, but only if you do something for me. That's not caring. You can't attach strings to these situations. But if someone does listen to me I think "Wow, I owe him/her one. I hope they know that they can come to me for anything." If you can trust me with everything you hold dear, why can't you care about me. More importantly, how is that no one cares. Every friend I've ever had has dumped all of their issues on me and then never bothered to pick up their phone when I call, has never had anything to say about my problems, or the ability to listen to them. It would be okay if it wasn't everybody ever.
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