Thursday, March 31, 2011
And I was just starting to like nature
I went for a walk yesterday. In flip flops! I must admit, I have always had a fondness for the flop-flop noise that they make! I was so happy after my walk! I went for a walk the night before with...umm...TheOrganPlayer. I complained rather loudly about how I wanted to see a bunny and then he mocked me for loving small woodland creatures so much. Of course, we can't hate him too much for this, dear friends, because he also makes sure to make me special vegan treats at dinner parties and never lets people pick a restaurant without first consulting me as to whether or not I can eat a reasonable meal there. Hee. Watch out, MMMono, he is going to take your place as my bestie. In other news, I found this article today and am now afraid of the outdoors. Yes, my love affair with spring has come to a sudden, crashing halt due to science. Coming soon to a blog near you: Aussie Adventures.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Thinking too hard
I watched the Quiz Bowl team compete with another school this afternoon. Wow. I would have cleaned-up all by myself! We won, of course, because Catholic education is so superior. And one of the kids on the team is a verifiable genius. He skipped grades and everything. He checks out hardcore science books for leisure reading.
Part of the problem that the remainder of the team faced, I noticed, was an inability to ascertain what the question was asking. They couldn't pull-out keywords. Even the smartest kids are not information literate enough to kick major ass at trivia.
I found this interesting graphic that might explain, to some extent, what the problem is. Also, the brain is displayed in a life-like pink color!
There is a work party this evening, so I shall likely regale you all with a lovely tail about that fabulous brand of entertainment in the days to come.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Top o' the mornin' to you!
Today is a great day. It is sunny...and excellent bar-hopping weather. Which is excellent for me, because it is the feast of St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland. Apparently, in Ireland on St. Patrick's Day, they all go to church. Here in America, we feast on beer. Green beer, at that. Green is my favorite color!
Today is also an AWESOME day because yesterday I got a fabulous prize in the mail: a form to fill-out for Toi! You guys!!!!!!! I flove forms!!!!!!!! No worries, Toi; I shall refrain from using green ink.
Speaking of Ireland, I am going to Ireland this summer. On a bus tour. That way, my cousin and I can just be drunk the whole time and then stumble onto the bus in the morning still drunk or hung-over and then sleep and wake-up to take a picture of the Blarney Stone and then sleep some more. Preferably not on the Cliffs of Moher.
In other news, I am going to look at a house on Saturday. Look at it with a Realtor because I am considering a purchase. I...I don't know what has come over me.
Today is also an AWESOME day because yesterday I got a fabulous prize in the mail: a form to fill-out for Toi! You guys!!!!!!! I flove forms!!!!!!!! No worries, Toi; I shall refrain from using green ink.
Speaking of Ireland, I am going to Ireland this summer. On a bus tour. That way, my cousin and I can just be drunk the whole time and then stumble onto the bus in the morning still drunk or hung-over and then sleep and wake-up to take a picture of the Blarney Stone and then sleep some more. Preferably not on the Cliffs of Moher.
In other news, I am going to look at a house on Saturday. Look at it with a Realtor because I am considering a purchase. I...I don't know what has come over me.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Ash Wednesday
Thank to Dr. Marko--or "The Bobber" if you prefer--I can no longer take Ash Wednesday liturgy seriously. He railed-on one day in class about how Theologically preposterous the whole concept of Ash Wednesday is.
His points:
1. Starting on Wednesday means that Lent is not 40 days long. No mater how you count it. Lent ends with Triduum, so Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday do not count in the 40 days of the Lenten season. If you skip Sundays you come-up short.You certainly can't skip every-other Sunday. It's all just a cover-up of some pagan-ism.
2. Sundays are not "mini-Easters" that you can cheat on during Lent. It is the blank Sunday of Lent. They count as Lent. And I quote: "The Priest is in that dorky purple. It's Lent."
3. "Who the hell keeps their Palm for a whole year and then remembers to bring it back to be burned and made into nice, clean ashes. What a load of crock. The Church buys it from a distributor--they throw away your dead, brown palm."
4. That song that we sing every Ash Wednesday about rising again from ashes and "an offering of ashes/an offering to you" that we grew up on and just love? Heresy. It is gnostic heresy.
So, here I am at the school mass, trying not to giggle as the Bishop goes to town marking up the children with not so much a cross of ashes, but an entire forehead full of ashes. And then I wiped-off my ashes after school to go to Mass again with my RCIA candidate. Does that mean that I have to give-up two things for Lent this year?
**UPDATE: OMG! I flove Stephen Colbert! He wore his ashes on the Colbert Report!!!!**
His points:
1. Starting on Wednesday means that Lent is not 40 days long. No mater how you count it. Lent ends with Triduum, so Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday do not count in the 40 days of the Lenten season. If you skip Sundays you come-up short.You certainly can't skip every-other Sunday. It's all just a cover-up of some pagan-ism.
2. Sundays are not "mini-Easters" that you can cheat on during Lent. It is the blank Sunday of Lent. They count as Lent. And I quote: "The Priest is in that dorky purple. It's Lent."
3. "Who the hell keeps their Palm for a whole year and then remembers to bring it back to be burned and made into nice, clean ashes. What a load of crock. The Church buys it from a distributor--they throw away your dead, brown palm."
4. That song that we sing every Ash Wednesday about rising again from ashes and "an offering of ashes/an offering to you" that we grew up on and just love? Heresy. It is gnostic heresy.
So, here I am at the school mass, trying not to giggle as the Bishop goes to town marking up the children with not so much a cross of ashes, but an entire forehead full of ashes. And then I wiped-off my ashes after school to go to Mass again with my RCIA candidate. Does that mean that I have to give-up two things for Lent this year?
**UPDATE: OMG! I flove Stephen Colbert! He wore his ashes on the Colbert Report!!!!**
Monday, February 28, 2011
Skank
Have you seen this?
Words cannot express how appauling I find this. I hear laser removal is coming along. I shared this with MMMono last week...her response centered around having actually read the article. Apparently the librarian in question is quoted saying "I recently finished library school and decided to commemorate the experience with a tattoo that honors my favorite book series (and musical genre*) ever." This is why no one respects my profession. Yes, the skanky tattoo, but also the fact that even people with an MLIS refer to it is "Library School". For the love!
Speaking of skanks, I just bought yet another cocktail dress. In my defense, it was on clearance. It is classy--black skirt and white halter top and I like it. A lot. It's not too short and it's not too much boobs. Now I just need some place to wear a cocktail dress. . .
Basically, I am excited for my summer off and my up-coming trip to DC and my life in general. Worst case scenario, I will spend the entire summer in sun dresses and cocktail dresses--preferably with friends.
Words cannot express how appauling I find this. I hear laser removal is coming along. I shared this with MMMono last week...her response centered around having actually read the article. Apparently the librarian in question is quoted saying "I recently finished library school and decided to commemorate the experience with a tattoo that honors my favorite book series (and musical genre*) ever." This is why no one respects my profession. Yes, the skanky tattoo, but also the fact that even people with an MLIS refer to it is "Library School". For the love!
Speaking of skanks, I just bought yet another cocktail dress. In my defense, it was on clearance. It is classy--black skirt and white halter top and I like it. A lot. It's not too short and it's not too much boobs. Now I just need some place to wear a cocktail dress. . .
Basically, I am excited for my summer off and my up-coming trip to DC and my life in general. Worst case scenario, I will spend the entire summer in sun dresses and cocktail dresses--preferably with friends.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
ChannelOne News Starts. . .
Part of my job is hitting the "Play" button to start the ChannelOne Broadcast. Very stimulating. I typically just hit play and then walk away, but today I was rooted to the spot. The broadcast greeted me with none other than NPH!
This, of course, got me all NPH-obsessed for the remainder of my day. I mean...he was barely in the last episode of HIMYM and his branch of the plot was stupid. I hate Ted Mosby--such a plot-hog. Just because it is *his* story. Whatever.
So, anyway, now I am planning on going to see Beastly, all because of NPH, in theaters. Rest assured, I was always planning on seeing it, but now I will go and see it in theaters...not on a library-owned DVD.
Thinking of NPH, I turned to the YouTube. I love it! I watched this little piece of joy (which is angry and will not allow embedding).
Now I'm all excited for the Oscars. I was totally *not* excited before, but now I am excited...who is hosting?
This, of course, got me all NPH-obsessed for the remainder of my day. I mean...he was barely in the last episode of HIMYM and his branch of the plot was stupid. I hate Ted Mosby--such a plot-hog. Just because it is *his* story. Whatever.
So, anyway, now I am planning on going to see Beastly, all because of NPH, in theaters. Rest assured, I was always planning on seeing it, but now I will go and see it in theaters...not on a library-owned DVD.
Thinking of NPH, I turned to the YouTube. I love it! I watched this little piece of joy (which is angry and will not allow embedding).
Now I'm all excited for the Oscars. I was totally *not* excited before, but now I am excited...who is hosting?
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Life of a stupid plant
I recently read a book that made me giggle...incessantly. And out loud. Good times. I would be shocked if MMMono has not yet read it, as it is Neil Gaiman. And it is set in England. The book is Good Omens and I found it to be quite fabulous at times, though a bit silly.
A segment that struck me follows. A note for those who have not read the text: Crowley is a demon who has been living on Earth for all of human history tempting people to be bad.
In fact the only thing in the flat that Crowley devoted any personal attention to were the houseplants. They were huge and green and glorious, with shiny, healthy, lustrous leaves.
This was because, once a week, Crowley went around the flat with a green plastic mister, spraying the leaves, and talking to the plants.
He had heard about talking to plants in the early seventies, on Radio Four, and thought it an excellent idea. Although talking is perhaps the wrong word for what Crowley did.
What he did was put the fear of God into them.
More precisely, the fear of Crowley.
In addition to which, every couple of months Crowley would pick out a plant that was growing too slowly, or succumbing to leaf-wilt or browning, or just didn't look quite as good as the others, and he would carry it around to all the other plants. 'Say goodbye to your friend,' he'd say to them. 'He just couldn't cut it ...'
Then he would leave the flat with the offending plant, and return an hour or so later with a large, empty flower pot, which he would leave somewhere conspicuously around the flat.
The plants were the most luxurious, verdant, and beautiful in London. Also the most terrified.
Friends, I've told you about Spidey-the-spider-plant-that-virtually-refuses-to-live. I coo to it; I love it; I water it with purified mineral water; I tuck it in every night and sing it to sleep. It hates me. It refuses to be green and pretty and survives only by spite so that I cannot, in good conscience, get a new shiny green plant that actually loves me. Obviously, I need to sell my soul so that I can strike fear into its heart so that it will grow and be pretty and verdant.
A segment that struck me follows. A note for those who have not read the text: Crowley is a demon who has been living on Earth for all of human history tempting people to be bad.
In fact the only thing in the flat that Crowley devoted any personal attention to were the houseplants. They were huge and green and glorious, with shiny, healthy, lustrous leaves.
This was because, once a week, Crowley went around the flat with a green plastic mister, spraying the leaves, and talking to the plants.
He had heard about talking to plants in the early seventies, on Radio Four, and thought it an excellent idea. Although talking is perhaps the wrong word for what Crowley did.
What he did was put the fear of God into them.
More precisely, the fear of Crowley.
In addition to which, every couple of months Crowley would pick out a plant that was growing too slowly, or succumbing to leaf-wilt or browning, or just didn't look quite as good as the others, and he would carry it around to all the other plants. 'Say goodbye to your friend,' he'd say to them. 'He just couldn't cut it ...'
Then he would leave the flat with the offending plant, and return an hour or so later with a large, empty flower pot, which he would leave somewhere conspicuously around the flat.
The plants were the most luxurious, verdant, and beautiful in London. Also the most terrified.
Friends, I've told you about Spidey-the-spider-plant-that-virtually-refuses-to-live. I coo to it; I love it; I water it with purified mineral water; I tuck it in every night and sing it to sleep. It hates me. It refuses to be green and pretty and survives only by spite so that I cannot, in good conscience, get a new shiny green plant that actually loves me. Obviously, I need to sell my soul so that I can strike fear into its heart so that it will grow and be pretty and verdant.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Oh Google, how I love thee
Let me count the ways...
Earlier this month (on the first, if you care to know) Google rolled-out its latest project. In true Google form, it is collaborative. This project, aptly named GoogleArtProject is a means of bringing world-renowned art to the masses right in the home and classroom.
"What's so special about that?" you might ask. Let me tell you.
Think about what Google has that few others have: the fact that they are Google. It elicits almost universal participation from institutions that have consistently turned others away. Just look at the list of heavy-hitting participants:
Alte Nationalgalerie, Berlin, Germany
The Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Insitution, Washington, D.C., USA
The Frick Collection, New York, NY, USA
Gemäldegalerie, Berlin, Germany
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY, USA
The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York, NY, USA
Museo Reina SofĂa, Madrid, Spain
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid, Spain
Museum Kampa, Prague, Czech Republic
The National Gallery, London, UK
Palace of Versailles, France
Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, The Netherlands
The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg, Russia
State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia
Tate Britain, London, UK
Uffizi, Florence, Italy
Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam, The Netherlands
I don't know about you, but I am impressed by this list of heavy-hitters.
In addition to being Google, the GAP (heehee) also brings into play the most current digitalization techniques, making it possible to bring an exceptionally high quality image of the art--which is probably another reason that so many agreed to participate--the Art looks fabulous. In fact, it looks like it does in real life. In fact, you can look into the image with more detail than you could with the naked-eye at the gallery. So what if that's not the point of art--Google lets you do it!
This is achieved in two ways: gigapixels and Google. No, really! And Google. Google's Street view technology, to be precise. You can tour the galleries all by yourself digitally because they have been captured using Google's Street view. You can even frolic in the gardens at Versailles. Best part? The galleries and gardens were empty when the images were captured, so no one is in your way--ever!
Basically, this is ArtSTOR Platinum...but it is free and open for any user. Play with it yourself. This is a good example of the gigapixels--you can zoom-in on the Globe or the music score and read either perfectly. Apparently, this image contains over 7 billion pixels...so be patient with the zooming.
I think they should use street view for the Guggenheim next.
In other news, I slept for 14 hours last night. I am feeling much less plague-infested. I need to be better by tomorrow, so that I can go visit my cousin!
Earlier this month (on the first, if you care to know) Google rolled-out its latest project. In true Google form, it is collaborative. This project, aptly named GoogleArtProject is a means of bringing world-renowned art to the masses right in the home and classroom.
"What's so special about that?" you might ask. Let me tell you.
Think about what Google has that few others have: the fact that they are Google. It elicits almost universal participation from institutions that have consistently turned others away. Just look at the list of heavy-hitting participants:
Alte Nationalgalerie, Berlin, Germany
The Freer Gallery of Art, Smithsonian Insitution, Washington, D.C., USA
The Frick Collection, New York, NY, USA
Gemäldegalerie, Berlin, Germany
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY, USA
The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York, NY, USA
Museo Reina SofĂa, Madrid, Spain
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid, Spain
Museum Kampa, Prague, Czech Republic
The National Gallery, London, UK
Palace of Versailles, France
Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, The Netherlands
The State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg, Russia
State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia
Tate Britain, London, UK
Uffizi, Florence, Italy
Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam, The Netherlands
I don't know about you, but I am impressed by this list of heavy-hitters.
In addition to being Google, the GAP (heehee) also brings into play the most current digitalization techniques, making it possible to bring an exceptionally high quality image of the art--which is probably another reason that so many agreed to participate--the Art looks fabulous. In fact, it looks like it does in real life. In fact, you can look into the image with more detail than you could with the naked-eye at the gallery. So what if that's not the point of art--Google lets you do it!
This is achieved in two ways: gigapixels and Google. No, really! And Google. Google's Street view technology, to be precise. You can tour the galleries all by yourself digitally because they have been captured using Google's Street view. You can even frolic in the gardens at Versailles. Best part? The galleries and gardens were empty when the images were captured, so no one is in your way--ever!
Basically, this is ArtSTOR Platinum...but it is free and open for any user. Play with it yourself. This is a good example of the gigapixels--you can zoom-in on the Globe or the music score and read either perfectly. Apparently, this image contains over 7 billion pixels...so be patient with the zooming.
I think they should use street view for the Guggenheim next.
In other news, I slept for 14 hours last night. I am feeling much less plague-infested. I need to be better by tomorrow, so that I can go visit my cousin!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Okay, who sent this plague? I didn't even kill anyone in a completely unnecessary duel...
I, Aussie, Queen of the Underappreciated Inactive but Elegant Thinkers (Q.U.I.E.T.) decided that regualr exercise would be a decent life choice. Despite the unbearable boredom that I associate with regular exercise, I decided to take-up yoga (I do value being flexible) and maybe treat myself with the occassional winter nature walk. I think we all know how I feel about snow. Also, I absolutely adore pronouncing to a room "I think I shall that a constitutional."
This was in mid-November. Going to Europe helped jump-start this program, because I walked everywhere. Lots of stairs. I did pretty good, considering how busy I always am. . . and considering the fact that I blatantly refuse to dispense with any of my alotted reading time for anything. Also, let's just admit it; Facebook is an evil time thief, feeding off of the time that it steals from its many unsuspecting victums.
So anyway! I was doing good. I was Yoga-ing and nature walking and I was happy. And then I stopped. Not because I got bored. Not becuase I no longer saw the point. certainly not because I had achieved 8-pack abs and checked that off of my bucket list.
Nope. I got the plague. Guys, I have been sick for over six (6) weeks. SIX WEEKS! Lame. In the course of my illness, I have continued to do many of the things that I always do (40 hours at work, choir, Church multiple times, cantoring, reading a book every week), but I lost my exercise time. I now only use the word "constitutional" when it is followed by the word "ammendment." It's not that I dislike constitutional ammendments...I just so prefer straight-up constitutionals.
In the course of this illness, I have lost my voice three times. I was laid-up in bed during my two glorious consecutive snow days. Sure, it was convenient, but who wants to waste a snow day on that--let alone two? Now, with a four-day weekend approaching, I am preemptively pissed that I woke-up with no voice this morning and shall apparently spend the weekend in bed, not out boozing and seeing the world.
I typically attempt to refrain from such maledction, but to whomever sent this plague upon me: Fuck you.
This was in mid-November. Going to Europe helped jump-start this program, because I walked everywhere. Lots of stairs. I did pretty good, considering how busy I always am. . . and considering the fact that I blatantly refuse to dispense with any of my alotted reading time for anything. Also, let's just admit it; Facebook is an evil time thief, feeding off of the time that it steals from its many unsuspecting victums.
So anyway! I was doing good. I was Yoga-ing and nature walking and I was happy. And then I stopped. Not because I got bored. Not becuase I no longer saw the point. certainly not because I had achieved 8-pack abs and checked that off of my bucket list.
Nope. I got the plague. Guys, I have been sick for over six (6) weeks. SIX WEEKS! Lame. In the course of my illness, I have continued to do many of the things that I always do (40 hours at work, choir, Church multiple times, cantoring, reading a book every week), but I lost my exercise time. I now only use the word "constitutional" when it is followed by the word "ammendment." It's not that I dislike constitutional ammendments...I just so prefer straight-up constitutionals.
In the course of this illness, I have lost my voice three times. I was laid-up in bed during my two glorious consecutive snow days. Sure, it was convenient, but who wants to waste a snow day on that--let alone two? Now, with a four-day weekend approaching, I am preemptively pissed that I woke-up with no voice this morning and shall apparently spend the weekend in bed, not out boozing and seeing the world.
I typically attempt to refrain from such maledction, but to whomever sent this plague upon me: Fuck you.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Dear Aquinas, please stop ruining my life
For the past...I don't want to think about how many years...I have been using my Aquinas email as my primary email because:
A. It was just easier for me, and
B. It functions exactly like a Gmail account, so why bother?
This was true until Aquinas ruined my life by "up grading" the Google applications. In sum, they took away access to many applications! Seriously? How is that an up-grade? chief among these applications was Blogger. It took me forever and a day of jumping through hoops to figure out how to get back into my account. Hatred, AQ. Hatred.
In other news, St. Thomas Aquinas, head baller of the Church (more commonly known as a Doctor of the Church or the Angelic Doctor) is also attacking me. Apparently silly mean baby-killers are taking some of Aquinas's words and applying 21st Century science to them in an attempt to say that the Catholic Church used to think abortion was okay, so long as it happened before the fetus got a soul. What bothers me most about this argument is that in a debate about the existence of God, many atheists will not recognize the existence of the soul.
I'll be doing a bit of travelling over the next few months. This should be awesome! I am looking into the possibility of doing a road trip camping extraveganza over the summer. That, or Canada. I have not been to Canada, properly. I have been through Canada, but I have not set foot in Canada, as we did not get out of the car.
A. It was just easier for me, and
B. It functions exactly like a Gmail account, so why bother?
This was true until Aquinas ruined my life by "up grading" the Google applications. In sum, they took away access to many applications! Seriously? How is that an up-grade? chief among these applications was Blogger. It took me forever and a day of jumping through hoops to figure out how to get back into my account. Hatred, AQ. Hatred.
In other news, St. Thomas Aquinas, head baller of the Church (more commonly known as a Doctor of the Church or the Angelic Doctor) is also attacking me. Apparently silly mean baby-killers are taking some of Aquinas's words and applying 21st Century science to them in an attempt to say that the Catholic Church used to think abortion was okay, so long as it happened before the fetus got a soul. What bothers me most about this argument is that in a debate about the existence of God, many atheists will not recognize the existence of the soul.
I'll be doing a bit of travelling over the next few months. This should be awesome! I am looking into the possibility of doing a road trip camping extraveganza over the summer. That, or Canada. I have not been to Canada, properly. I have been through Canada, but I have not set foot in Canada, as we did not get out of the car.
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