There Is A Spaniard In My Mother's Bathroom

There is a Spaniard in my mother's bathroom. His face regally gazes out at me from under a wide-brimmed hat in a lower corner of the wall by the door, where the tile has broken off and left the sea green plaster exposed underneath. His chiseled features are formed by marbled wisps of white; the remains of some adhesive that wasn't ready to let go.

His face has always been there, but no one has ever mentioned it. I don't know if anyone else has looked at that broken tile and seen anything more than just that. I will not speak of him. He is my personal portrait and as I sit on the toilet and stare at his face, I wonder; if I broke away all of the white and green tiles that line these walls, what magnificent portrait of some foreign, royal land would be uncovered.

60%

Let me tell you something about flat seltzer: It has more emotion than your normal water. The tap water, it’s got stuff in it, sure, and the bottled water, it’s pristine and all of that. But that flat seltzer is so much more. It’s naked and vulnerable. When all the bubbles are gone, no one wants it. It feels abandoned and useless, like a singer whose voice has been lost. It’s felt joy and it’s experienced loss. It’s brimming with insecurity as it sits in the fridge waiting for someone to unscrew its cap and hear that painful silence where a fizzing used to be.

Don’t pour it out! Devour its flatness, feast upon its shortcomings, absorb its essence! You see, everyone forgets that seltzer is still water underneath all the razzle dazzle.

My water needs character; it needs emotion! I’m 60% water— that’s more than half of me! How can you have 60% of you be soulless?

That’s just no way to live.

Rold Gold White Dipped Honey Braided Twists

I have decided to take a moment to make an important public service announcement.

For a while now, I have declared Rold Gold Honey Wheat Braided Twists to be my favorite pretzel of all time. I did not think that any pretzel could ever out-do my love for these delightfully salty twists with just a hint of sweetness, but Rold Gold, you've done it again!

I was browsing through the Hampstore (Hampshire College store) a couple days ago, when my eyes were drawn to a small tan bag. I stared at it for a minute, not quite believing what I had seen, but alas it was true!

It was a bag of Rold Gold White Dipped Honey Braided Twists. That's right, the most delectable pretzel has been dipped in white chocolate and my god, it is amazing.

I've just finished the bag and I will probably be back to buy another one later today because they really raise the bar for pretzels everywhere (Utz, get at me!).

So I just wanted to let the world know that a superior pretzel has been born. I'm not saying that you should go out and buy a bag right now, but basically that is exactly what I'm saying.

*I couldn't find a picture of the white dipped ones, so just imagine those dipped in white chocolate...

Italics

I haven't blogged in a while, and I can't think of anything that pressing to blog about, or anything that interesting to randomly blog about. But lately I have noticed that italics make anything look more important. This applies mainly to full sentences, not just particular words. To understand the full effect of the power of italics, I will provide a few examples:

Like this sentence.

Look at the difference between:

The iguana prefers a down jacket.

and

The iguana prefers a down jacket.

Encapsulated (a poem)

Walking through the park,

Still hours until the world grows dark,

With every step movement is sparked,

On the sidewalk pebbles leave their mark,

And in my mind there's an arc of light.

There is magic all around me,

This force that grounds me,

These lives that surround me,

This world that astounds me,

And the people all around me are oblivious.

I'm staring,

Spacing,

My mind is whirling,

Twirling,

And it's as if the universe has been unraveled.

Horrible things all around,

Crying and screaming horrible sounds,

People in rags glued to the ground,

Children picked up from the lost and found,

And I can't close my glazed eyes.

I'm seeing missed chances,

Meant to be romances,

Souls sharing dances,

Exchanging innocent glances,

Laced with "what if"s.

The static is moving to its own beat,

The ground is dancing beneath my feet,

The world is paving me a new street,

Made of glitter and concrete,

And all of a sudden, everything is okay.

People Cakes (a poem/rap thing)

Someone once asked me what I believed in.

I said I was agnostic.

They asked me if that was a religion.

I said no.

They asked me for a definition.

I said,

there could be such a thing as fate,

prayers could be shipped at first rate,

to someone very great...

Or not.

To me it doesn't really matter,

because in the end all we are could just be matter,

some sort of genetic batter,

baked into people cakes.

Some Stuff About Bubbles (Part 2)

"A bubble is this simple, very fragile, easy to understand, beautiful, dreamlike thing that I believe represents this... this future love." -- Lady Gaga

The Kit-Kat

It was raining today, so instead of taking her usual spot on the bench, Irma decided to just sit in and stare out the window. She didn't offer me a seat. I stood behind her chair for a few minutes but then began to feel weird about it, so I pulled up a chair for myself and sat down next to her.
We sat there in silence, watching the rain drops trickle down the glass window. Not many people were out.
Sometimes I thought I would catch a hint of a smile come across Irma's face, but I was never sure because it was just slight enough to make me consider whether or not I had hallucinated it. But I think it was real, because I felt like each time I noticed the corners of her mouth begin to angle up, her eyes were focused on some unfortunate person caught in the rain, running to catch a bus on the corner or shielding their head with a newspaper in the downpour.
I think that she amuses herself through the discomfort of others.
After an hour or so, the Kit-Kat in my pocket began to beckon, so I quietly pulled it out and started to open the wrapper, trying not to disturb the silence. Finally I broke off a section of wafer and looked back up at Irma before biting into it. Her gaze didn't move. She just extended her hand towards me and muttered, "Gimme a break."

My Issue With Fun Dip (Part 2)

A Nestle representative finally emailed me back today!
(Not quite within 48 hours of my inquiry, I'd just like to note...)
Here's the response to my question:


Dear Ms. Sacerdote,

Thank you for contacting Wonka Lik-m-aid Fun Dip.
Our research has shown that two sticks are enough to enjoy all the powder candy. In addition, we want to keep the price as low as possible for our consumers and adding a third stick would increase the product cost. We will report your comments to our Marketing personnel.
We appreciate your interest and hope that you will visit our website often for the latest information on our products and promotions.

Sincerely,
Patricia A. M. Scott
Consumer Response Representative




Well, I guess that's the reason.
But I've got to say, I could see why their research may have pointed to only two sticks being enough for all of the powder in one sitting because technically speaking, it is.
But most people don't eat three packets of Fun Dip powder in one sitting (then again, maybe it's just an issue for me, considering I live in the country with the highest rate of both diabetes and obesity...).
I'm tempted to ask Ms. Scott to elaborate on the details of the marketing research that went on, but I feel like she may not be the kind of person who would humor me, or even get where I'm coming from.
Sure, she works for Nestle which is a candy company. But we have to consider the fact that she works for the consumer relations division of the company, which means that she may not even partake in the consumption of Fun Dip to begin with.
There may in fact be no one that I would be able to easily contact at Nestle that would be able to empathize with my specific problem.
After all, I am probably part of a relatively small demographic of people between the ages of 15 and 25 who actually purchase Fun Dip for personal consumption. I'm not sure how small that demographic actually is, but logically speaking, the demographic for people age 25 and above who purchase Fun Dip for personal consumption is probably a lot smaller, if not completely non-existent.

I don't think that I will ask her for more details on the study because I don't want to be irritating and really, it doesn't matter that much.
Maybe I will just accept the fact that there are only two sticks for three packets as one of those things that just doesn't make sense. There are plenty of other more serious things that don't make sense in the world, so why not let Fun Dip add on to the nonsensical workings of the world?

But it still bothers me. It bothers me because I know that unlike forces of nature or complicated world histories or medical mysteries, there was no complex process that was involved in the creation of Fun Dip.
One person some odd decades ago had an idea and then had it marketed, and then somewhere along the line that same person (or perhaps someone else) decided to include one less stick than was needed. There was intention in this decision. There was no mistake made; there was no unexplained force at work here.
This decision came from a human mind, and it is completely illogical.

My Issue With Fun Dip

My one issue with Fun Dip is one that I feel like many people encounter when trying to enjoy this amazingly delicious and fun treat. It's a very simple issue that seems very illogical to me, and I would really like to know why it exists.

My issue is that a full package of Fun Dip comes with three packets of candy powder, but only two candy sticks to eat them with.

It really boggles my mind.

I just don't get why people who make candy for a living would be so inconsiderate.

So of course, I looked it up and got a bunch of Yahoo! Answers that were just blind guesses by random people who don't get it either. I looked and looked, but to no avail. There just didn't seem to be any logical reason behind it. However, I did find out that originally, it was sold under the name Lik-M-Aid and usually came with two powders and one stick (so still, wtf?) and that the flavor of the sticks is marshmallow!

Anyway, the question was still bugging me so I decided to get the answer from someone who may actually know it: the Wonka candy people.

(That is, the people who work for the Wonka division of Nestle, not the oompa loompas...)

So I went onto Nestle's website and clicked on "Contact Us" and wrote them with my question.

The message is as follows:

To the person in charge of the Wonka candy division,

I'm not sure if you get a lot of questions about this or not, but I thought I'd go ahead and ask: Why is it that "Fun Dip" candy packs come with three packets of candy powder, but only two candy "Lik-a-Stiks"? Is it a cost issue, or is there another reason behind this decision?

It's just that I can't always handle eating all three packets at once, so I like to cut them off and eat them one at a time. This usually means that I end up using the first stick up on the first packet, and then when I get down to the last two packets, I'm only left with one stick so I use it for the first of the two and then try to save it for later use with the last one. As you can see, this poses a problem because not only is my stick now half licked, but there is also the issue of what to do with that sticky stick. Where should I put it?

I just feel that it would be a whole lot easier for everyone if you included a third stick in the package, and I hope that you will consider this as something worthwhile, because it would make a lot of Wonka candy consumers very happy.

Yours,

Marguerite Sacerdote

Dog's Best Friend

As I was browsing CDs at Mystery Train Records (a small used CD/record store in Amherst, MA) yesterday, a strange thought came to me.
I was with a few friends from school and being new college students, we were still at the stage of missing our homes and families, but more commonly, our pets. We walked into Mystery Train and immediately everyone's attention was drawn to a very enthusiastic looking dog who was sitting on a couch just waiting for anyone to come over and play. Everyone immediately headed over to the dog and started petting it and talking to it, and let me tell you, that dog was ecstatic. It just kept on looking up with its happy eyes, through a mass of hands scratching and petting.
I'm not even a dog person and I ended up sitting down right next to it and scratching its ears.
It was then that a strange thought came to me. I was thinking about how a lot of people rush over to dogs and immediately start to pet them and talk to them because they think they're cute. I was thinking about how little kids constantly stop on the street and ask people to pet their dogs because they think they're cute.
And then I got to thinking about the other side of the person-dog relationship. How when a person enters a room, a lot of dogs will run up to them and try to lick their face or climb up on them. Even if it's a complete stranger, they run over and get overly excited about just seeing a person.
So, my question is: Do dogs think that we're cute?
It all adds up, but is that what it is?
It could be.
Is that why they're so loyal and attached to us? Do they use us in a similar fashion as we use them? Do they think our relative baldness is endearing? Do they think that our noises are adorable?
Would they still be man's best friend if they were more particular?

On Top Of The World

Today is my last day at home before I leave for college, and today I realized something miraculous:
I live in the sky.
The sky.
I never really thought about it like that before.
I had just finished folding my last load of wash on my parents' bed so I decided to lay down and watch Friends. My parents' window looks right out over Central Park, twelve stories up, and there was a wonderfully soft white light coming into the room in a mellow, five o'clock way. It was really quite lovely... almost heavenly.
It was the kind of light that reminded me of clouds and flowery spring days. It was the kind of light that reminded me of Mount Olympus; of a floating fortress in the sky... And that's when it hit me.
I do live in the sky.
I live in a house above the trees. I dwell just beneath the clouds. Every night I lie in my bed, surrounded by that purple New York sky. I was watching Friends while sitting hudreds of feet above the streets and stores.
It's amazing that it's taken me eighteen years to come to this particular thought, yet I completely understand why it's taken so long. It's all about relativity. If instead of living amongst other apartment buildings, I lived in the only apartment building in New York amongst two or three story houses, I'd constantly feel like I lived in a tree house. But I don't tower above everyone else. Other people live next to me on the same level, which destroys the cloudy fortress effect... which is why I've never before realized that I essentially live in the sky.
I live above one of the largest cities in the world. The greatest city in the world.
I've lived the majority of my life up in the skies of New York, and that is living on top of the world.

The Bench

There's this bench right outside of the home. It's just your basic wooden bench. It looks like it should really be in a park somewhere, but instead it's been placed right there on a single section of sidewalk overlooking the road. It's a lonely bench, sitting there all by itself with no other benches around. I think that whoever designed the bench layout did that on purpose, though. It's a big enough bench to seat about three people comfortably, but it's a small enough bench to allow one person to sit and avoid having other random people sit down. Sort of like those awkward blocks of three seats on trains and buses. If you sit on one end, someone can sit down in the other empty end seat without intruding on your space. However, if you sit in the middle seat, most people will choose to sit elsewhere because taking either end seat would be cramping your space.
Irma is a huge fan of the bench for this reason. She heads out around the same time every day. She usually plops herself down at about four o'clock in the afternoon and sits there for a good hour until dinnertime. I get the feeling sometimes that she used to arrive at the bench at exactly four o'clock on the dot every day before I started coming around. I can tell because she glances at her watch a couple times before we go outside and sometimes she'll look down at it at exactly 3:59 and then look at me to see if I noticed the time. If it looks like I know what time it is, she'll start to fiddle around with things or pretend to tidy up her room for a couple of minutes. Then she'll casually walk out and I'll follow her outside and we may arrive at the bench at 4:02 or sometimes 4:08 if she's really feeling aloof.
Once we get to the bench she sits down in what would be the "middle seat" and proceeds to spread out all of her belongings so that the rest of the bench is basically taken up. She doesn't even have that much stuff with her usually, just her bag and maybe a sweater or an umbrella sometimes, but somehow she manages to position everything just right so that no one else can sit without feeling crowded. That includes me.
I usually just sit down on the grass or lean against a lamp post. I don't really mind. It's actually a pretty pleasant hour out of my day. Irma never talks to me in a conversational way when she's sitting on the bench. She mostly just sits there and watches the road. Occasionally she'll close her eyes for a few minutes but when she opens them, she's always staring straight ahead at the road. I tend to spend the time getting lost in thought. I don't really know what she thinks about.
It's hard to tell with older people, sometimes. I've heard people compare the elderly to infants, exemplifying some sort of circle of life, and it does make me wonder. Does she think the same thoughts that I would think? Does she ever wonder how many more calories you would burn if you chose to skip instead of walk for the rest of your life? Does that voice of thought in her head sound any different than it did when she was my age?
Does she sit there and ponder the meaning of life, or does she spend her hour trying to guess what they'll serve for dinner?

Some Stuff About Bubbles (Part 1)

I like to blow bubbles while standing just around a corner. This way, they will float around the corner, out of my view. It's not that I don't want to see the bubbles, it's just that I want other people to see them. And not see me.
I like to hear little kids shriek and older people laugh. I like to see small children run around my corner after the bubbles and find me with my bubble wand... it makes me feel like the Wizard of Oz when the curtain is opened on him. Like a secret creator of happiness.

Jump!

What would happen if every single (able) person on earth jumped at the exact same time? Would the earth move upon landing? Would it create earthquakes? Would it topple buildings?

What if just all of New York City jumped? Would it affect anything at all? Would floors of apartments come crashing down from the impact? Would it cause cars to swerve? Would people in New Jersey feel it?

But even if nothing happened physically, what a sight that would be! Imagine, a single moment in time when every single person on the planet would be suspended in midair.

I remember a year or two ago, there was a Facebook event that attempted to get everyone in New York City to flush their toilet at midnight on a specific date. Of course, it was bound to fail due to the fact that not all New Yorkers would receive the message and that a good number of those invited would decline or simply forget to flush (like I did...).

But it was still exciting.

The idea was exciting.

No one knew for sure what would happen because it had never really been done before. Could New York's sewage system handle it? Would the city flood? Would some toilets fail to flush as a result?

We'll probably never find out what would happen.

But I do hope that someday, maybe in my lifetime, the whole world will work in unison. The actual task wouldn't even matter because even if it was as simple as jumping, it would be undeniably amazing.

The Bathroom

If I had to make a home out of any single room in a house, it would have to be the bathroom. The bathroom is the single most useful room in the house and I think that it's secretly everyone's favorite...
Look, if you simply purchase a mini fridge/freezer and a hot plate, you're totally set. You've got running water from not one, but two (or sometimes three) sources and you've got electricity.
Now ideally if I had to set up residence in a bathroom, I'd like to have a bathroom that has a shower and a bathtub separately (and a Jacuzzi, but it's not entirely necessary... but it would be pretty sweet.). This way I could reserve the shower for all bathing purposes and keep the tub set up as a bed.
If you've ever passed out in a bathtub or just slept in one because you thought it would be fun, you probably know that it's really not the most comfortable experience.
But I've got it covered.
Just pimp that tub out! All you have to do is stack foam mats (Tempur-pedic, waddup!) up in the tub to fill it in or use pillows or whatever you want. Personally, I'd probably try to get a small waterbed mattress to fill the tub with just to be ironic.
Note: This would probably be an issue for taller people because they might not fit into the tub comfortably, but we're talking about me and I'm small so it works out.
Then I'd just get a power strip plugged in and I'd be able to hook up my snow cone maker, my bubble machine, and a sick sound system (because the bathroom is the best place to jam out).
So the bathroom has living potential, but why not the kitchen or the bedroom? Well, that's simple... the bathroom is simply more awesome.
Think about it-- where do you do the best thinking? Where does your singing sound the best? Where can you read in peace? Where can you doing anything in peace? Where can you relax in a mass of bubble bath by candlelight? Where does the lighting bring out your natural glow? Where do you feel the freshest?
The bathroom.
In short, the bathroom is a wonderful place. It's clean and bright and it can make you feel like you're living in a Roman palace... or bath house.
Really, I can't think of a better room to live in. There would be no waiting to pee and no yelling at someone else to get out of the shower. It's always a comfortable temperature and it's never too noisy or too quiet.
Also, no one would ever question your personal hygiene.

Solitaire

Irma let me into her room to play solitaire. As I entered, Agnes was already being kicked out. She motioned to a corner and I sat down with a lonely deck of cards, as she assumed the opposite corner. We sat there playing by ourselves for about an hour. I kept on looking up at her and watching that look of intense concentration on her face. Game after game went by. Not once did she look up from her cards and not once did she acknowledge me. Yet somehow I felt as if she was silently appreciative of my presence. I guess solitude requires good company.

A Word Of Wisdom (August 2, 2010)

It would be tragic if humans had been given the same brains but no opposable thumbs.

Irma (my fictional senior acquaintance)

Irma is probably the most unsympathetic, unenthusiastic, unsupportive person I've ever met. The best way to describe her is by thinking of words that start with un and you will probably have an accurate adjective every time... except for understanding. Simply put, she's just uncooperative, like the prefix itself.
She acts unhappy and underwhelmed all the time. She is unimpressed with everyone and everything and if the world does indeed end in 2012 (and if she makes it to 2012), she will most likely be found sitting on the same old bench outside of the home watching meteors hurtle towards the earth, screaming something like "You call this an apocalypse?" and then fading into angry muttering about something back in her day...

The Guy on 103rd and Central Park West

I've been thinking about homeless people lately. Maybe it's because once it gets hotter in New York, they start to hang around more outside. I think one thing that every New Yorker has in common is that they all have their neighborhood street people. They might not be homeless, but they hang around all day, every day. Sometimes there's more than one. Sometimes they come and go for periods of time. Sometimes you spot them far away from your neighborhood and it just feels wrong, even though you feel bad for feeling that way.
There's one man who is always on the corner of 103rd and Central Park West, right by the subway station. He's out there every single morning and most every night, just saying good morning to everyone and hoping for some change. He's on that corner almost year-round too. I've walked up Central Park West many a very late night and seen him just standing there in between crosswalks waiting. For what? I have no clue. Whoever's going into the subway that late probably can't afford to give him any money anyway.
He never hassles you or begs. He actually seems like he would be a pretty ncie guy, but I never talk to him beyond a "hello" or a "good morning" because time has taught me that I should just keep on walking. Maybe someday I'll stop and spend a minute or two.
He recently obtained a bicycle. Nothing too fancy or too shabby-- just your usual bike. The first time I saw it, he was biking just ahead of me on my side of the street, heading downtown. I saw him riding and I just smiled for a couple of blocks, caught up in the hilarity of the idea that he would have a bike. Thinking about it now, I don't really know why it was so funny, but it was. I guess it's that he doesn't really go anywhere that far away. For a second I thought he was headed to a distant location far downtown, beyond the subway station. But when I finally caught up to him, where had he stopped? At 103rd street, with his bike propped against a trash can.
I wonder if the bike was donated or if he actually bought it with his own money. I kind of hope that he bought it himself. I'm not sure if he's really "homeless" either. Where does he go when he's not on the corner? Where does he live? Where did he live?
What is his name?

4:20

I have the tendency to look at the clock at 4:20. It doesn't happen once in a while; it happens on average, probably about once every three days, but sometimes it's every day. It's especially odd because at 4:20, unlike 11:11 or 9:11 (which pop up a lot as well), I am usually only awake for one occurrence of this time each day. This means that I check my cell phone or look up at a subway clock or glance at the bottom right corner of my computer screen at exactly 4:20 almost every day. Never at 4:19 and never at 4:21. Weird.

Watershed Addiction Rehab

Seriously?

There's another rehab ad on my facebook that's been popping up for the past month, here and there. It's for Watershed Addiction Rehab (http://thewatershed.com/)

This is the picture for the ad... it's actually a picture of the center, but I always think of an italian ice stand with an umbrella when I see it... ----------------->

Facebook, you've done it again!

I've decided to take it humorously, so I clicked on the ad and read the homepage... this place actually looks quite nice.

And affordable!

And it's in Florida! (but they don't tell you where...)

So, I've decided that if I were to compare the two rehab centers that so desperately want to help me, I would probably choose the Watershed center... for these reasons.

I quote:

"We have combined excellence and compassion with all the necessary disciplines to address the disease of addiction in a drug rehab center to help you achieve recovery."

The other site didn't even mention anything about compassion... one point for Watershed!

"We feel that by maintaining affordable addiction treatment servies combined with the best quality care, we will be able to reach more individuals suffering from this life threatening disease."

Affordable is important, especially cause I'm not exactly raking in the dough...

"We can help you, no matter how desperate your situation may be."

I'd say this falls under "excellence and compassion" but I'll give Watershed another point for the emphasis!

and a clever ending too: "More importantly, can you afford not to..."

Well, yes.

But I appreciate the effort.

Honeydew

I bought a container of fruit salad at a little deli today.

I was really excited because fruit salad is the best.

You get pieces of every type of fruit

without having to cut it all up yourself.

Mine had cantaloupe, honeydew, kiwi, strawberry, and orange in it.

Except, when I actually opened the container

I felt a little ripped off.

The top looked like a wonderful array of fruits.

But as it turned out,

I only got one strawberry,

one piece of orange,

and one slice of kiwi

which were all sitting there at the top.

The rest of the fruit salad was cantaloupe and honeydew.

So I was a little saddened.

But then I got to thinking about honeydew.

What a wonderfully lovely word!

The fresh softness of morning dew

with a hint of sweetness.

It's the perfect description of the fruit, really.

And I wondered who named it that first.

What ordinary poet linked those words together

to create the most beautiful of compound words,

which would later describe

a good two thirds of my fruit salad.

A Word Of Wisdom (July 1, 2010)

Twins are not born alone, but they could die alone...

Drug/ Alcohol 24 hr. Help

So as everyone probably knows, based on the creepiness of the internet, the ads that show up on our facebook sidebars and other websites have relevance to our lives and what the internet has concluded that we are interested in.

So usually the side of my facebook page is full of ads for photography courses, New York City deals, new movies, live music, etc.

But I've noticed something that's been showing up consistently for the past year.

There's always a box there that says "Drug/Alcohol 24 hr. Help" (http://www.thetreatmentcenter.com/) just chillin' there on the side of my screen. It's always there. I just don't get it.

Now, I'm not trying to fool anyone about the existence of certain things that i may partake in for fun, but I'm most definately not an alcoholic nor do I suffer from a serious drug problem.

And even if I did, how on earth would facebook know that?

I don't sport statuses like "OMG i got sooo trashed last night! ;) ;)" or "time to go roll a blunt."

I may occasionally make reference to getting high or drinking but I know for a fact that those comments do not come about often enough to assume that I would have a problem.

Much less a problem big enough for 24 hour help!

Really when it comes down to it, the ad makes me feel pretty bad.

Not because it makes me guilty or ashamed or anything, I'm really fine with myself.

But it makes me feel very wrongly judged.

By someone out there that I've never met.

About something very serious.

And it's the only consistent ad that shows up. The others come and go, but this one just keeps on popping up!

I'm very tempted to contact them and tell them how I feel because I'm pretty sure that there are many people out there on the internet who could actually use this 24 hour help, but who aren't seeing the ad. Instead, they're wasting their money on making me feel bad.

And I don't like it.

A Word Of Wisdom (June 19, 2010)

You are always saying something.
Whatever you are wearing says something about yourself and if you choose to wear nothing, that says even more.

On The Eve of My Calculus Final...

Sometimes I sit back in my chair in math class and I try to retrace my knowledge of the subject.
I can remember learning addition and subtraction with groups of M&M's. I remember memorizing multiplication tables on my way to school. I remember my teacher going over long division... and long division going over my head. I remember the embarrassment, which a calculator later relieved. Then came the variables. I guess they chose x because it was far less logical than a. But algebra made sense- just solving for an unknown. Geometry was straightforward, although the proofs became tiring. But still, I did encounter these shapes every day. Then came trigonometry, and this is where I lost my way. I get how trig functions come from triangles, and why they are there, but graphing functions- why do I care? Parabolas are nice, but I've only seen them on graphs. This is where real life no longer meets math. Then there was precalc and now there's calculus. And the kids who got trig are as confused as the rest of us. I look to the board and then look to the sky. Optimizing equations- why, oh why? So to those who live for math, I mean no offense. But honestly, after geometry, this shit makes no sense.

Remark

So this is something I wrote on http://oneword.com, which is an amazing site that a friend showed me! You're basically given a random word each day and then you get a minute to write about it... anyway, today's word was "remark":

Well I've been asked for my remarks about the word remark...
but I guess there's nothing very remarkable
about "remark"
it's funny because I suppose I thought i'd have more
to remark about.

Silly Bandz ban and those rubbery yo-yo things...

http://news.yahoo.com/s/time/20100527/us_time/08599199179700

Hahaha! Actually, it's kind of sad that they're banning Silly Bandz in schools, but it still bothers me when kids wear a shitload of them on their wrists...

I remember when I was in elementary school, there was this toy that came out and everybody had one or wanted to have one desperately. It was kind of like a rubbery yo-yo except that on the end was a rubbery ball filled with this shiny oily stuff and you could squeeze the ball to make the shiny stuff swirl around (trust me, it was pretty awesome). The ball was attached to a rubber rope so you could swing it around and bounce it up and down in the air.

Here's a picture of them --->

It was soon discovered that the shiny oily stuff had some chemical in it that caused irritations when it came into contact with skin. In other words, some stupid kid had tried really hard to pop the rubber ball (which was very hard to do by just swinging it around) with a pen or a knife or some other sharp object, and the oily stuff got all over their hands and they got a rash from it.

All of a sudden, what was once a harmless toy was now a menace to society. Not only was the oily stuff a health concern, but suddenly the rubber rope held the potential to strangle children when swung. And as if that wasn't enough, it was suddenly discovered that they could distract kids in school.

So of course, schools banned the toys and all of us were devastated. I remember I had one of them and then lost it right after the ban. I asked my dad if I could get another one to replace it, and he refused to buy me one because of the "health hazards" that other parents had told him about.

So I never got another one, and soon it didn't even matter because parents and teachers were confiscating them left and right so no one had them after a while.

And I think that this is very sad. The mistake of one stupid kid caused the happiness of thousands of kids all over the country to be snatched away. Granted, it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it's still sad.

But the ban on Silly Bandz is different. It's even more unfair because they're not actually a health hazard, but I don't really care. Because I've been wearing them for three years now and seeing them crammed, twenty on each wrist, just bothers me.

Poem From A Poem (a poem)

Hi there.
Hello.
I am a poem
and you are a human being.
I have a font
and you have a brain.
I am made of ink on paper
and you of DNA.
In fact, I am quite simple
comparatively.
So why do you keep looking for something more?
There's really nothing extraordinary to explore.
I'm not hiding anything- this I insist!
Yet so-called brainiacs still persist-
continuing to delve in between my lines,
trying to expand their overused minds
until they come up with something smart
and credit themselves as experts on the art.
But here's the secret that puts everything in its place:
What you'll find in between the lines
is.

simply.

blank.

space.

You see,
maybe my author just thought it would be fun
to write a poem from the perspective of one.
And maybe what she was trying to point out
is that people who claim to have figured this out
don't really know what they're talking about.

Balloon

Balloons make me happy.
They're simply wonderful
until they escape.
It always makes me sad to see lonely balloons
floating up up and away.
It's funny and tragic
because they're flying to freedom
yet some child is losing happiness
and eventually they'll just pop up there
in the thinner atmosphere
but I suppose they don't know any better...

Anagram Bot Conversation #2

sternest: Hey there, stranger!
marguerite: fancy meeting you here!
sternest: The fiery, young menace.
marguerite: I've had a trouble past, but I'm past that now
sternest: Dubitative, sharp bold amputates. Hot want.
marguerite: i have a hot want for you ;)
sternest: What-ho! Ya! On favourite.
marguerite: don't call me a ho!
sternest: Hot, modal clean.
marguerite: well as long as you think i'm hot...
sternest: Gawkishly unemotional sloth.
marguerite: sloths have feelings too
sternest: The self-love as soothing.
marguerite: don't self-love yourself too much there buddy
sternest: Unlovely defectors smooth foul. Three buddy.
marguerite: well three buddies isn't self-loving anymore...
sternest: Wild-eyed, moth-eaten blurriness. Flog snivel.
marguerite: you should purchase some moth balls
sternest: Humorously hated up smooches. Balls.
marguerite: hahahahaha
sternest: Ha Ha! Ha Ha! Ha.
marguerite: ho ho ho!
sternest: Let me get back to you on that.

A Quick Comment About Those Animal Rubber Band Things

A quick comment about those animal rubber band things:
I've been wearing them on my wrist for three years now.
Yes, three years.
I found a box of them in my room while cleaning and I thought they were kind of cool.
I've worn orange kangaroos, yellow giraffes, blue elephants, green rhinos, and pink hippos.
I wear them two at a time so that the colors can complement each other...
and so that they don't feel lonely...
Sometimes when I'm bored I take them off my wrist and play with them during class.
Sometimes I trace their shapes into my notebook with a pen.
They tend to impress intoxicated people,
but when I show them to little kids they don't get quite as excited.
Recently everyone has started to wear them.
Now they come in weird shapes like hammers and guitars.
I guess they reflect everyone's interests...
which is fine and dandy.
But I don't like it.
You see, I've been wearing these animal rubber band things for three years now.
Before anyone else knew what they were.
At a time when you could only buy them in Chinese stationary stores.
I don't want to stop wearing them because they're special to me,
but I feel that when people see them on my wrist they think that I'm trying to be trendy.
And I'm not.
So whenever anyone asks what kind of rubber band things I have on my wrist,
I show them my blue elephant and my yellow giraffe.
I say, "The yellow one's a giraffe.
I know, it's hard to tell sometimes because it looks fat now
because it got stretched out
because I've been wearing it for about a year.
Before everyone started doing it."
I've been wearing those animal rubber band things for three years, dammit!
I set the trend.

Gum Spots (a poem)

Gum Spots

As I was walking down the street
my mind was drawn to something neat.
A blackened spot upon the ground,
discreet and flat and perfectly round.
A gum spot surrounded by millions more
that once had colors and flavors galore!
And once upon a time they were spat on down,
to lay on the constantly overlooked ground
to be stepped on by sneakers,
worn by momentarily profane speakers...

But this one spot caused me to wonder to myself,
what pack that piece came from right off of the shelf.
Was it fruity or minty or a fiery cinnamon?
And what caused this person to spit out their gum?
Had it just lost its flavor or was it a hurried release,
to be replaced by fries or a quarter pound of beef?
And how many people must've spat a piece out,
to create enough spots to polka dot the ground?
And how much time will have lapsed
when the days of pavement will have passed
and the ground will just be a rubbery layer
which when jumped upon, will spring us into the air?

"Sternest" Anagram Bot Conversation #1

The "Sternest" Anagram Bot basically turns whatever you type into an anagram and I think it makes funny conversations when you keep on talking to it... anyways, you can try it out yourself at: www.sternestmeanings.com. Here's the first of many anagram bot conversations I'll be posting:

sternest: Hello!
Marguerite: why hello there!
sternest: Hey! O Hell! Threw.
Marguerite: i threw my manners out the window
sternest: Wanted hush money worriment wit.
Marguerite: money is only what you make it
sternest: Weak, yummy, loony hesitation
Marguerite: looney tunes + michael jordan = space jam!
sternest: Jeopardously social enhancement. Jam.
Marguerite: where do social climbers stop?
sternest: Wordless cohabiter compiles.
Marguerite: if you share my cohabits, we can have a cohabitat!
sternest: Anyhow fiery, abusive stomach ache. Ciao! At bath.
Marguerite: wait, don't leave me now!
sternest: Wet old woman naivete.
Marguerite: i'm not old, and this is not turning me on!
sternest: Not thudding intestinal moronism. On.
Marguerite: there will be absolutely no thudding going on here!
sternest: Woebegone bullshit or genitally. Unhinged, red-hot.
Marguerite: are you coming onto me?
sternest: I'm ace monotony rogue.
Marguerite: why don't you try Sarah Palin...
sternest: Hurray! Now nasty typhoidal.
Marguerite: i don't know why i'm still talking to you, we don't seen to have very many common interests
sternest: Wittingly smooth kind know-it-all. O My! O Dear Me! Unheavy seventy-two. Corniest moments.
Marguerite: ooh well, i do like corny moments...
sternest: Mellowly honored sick emotion.
Marguerite: that just sounds emo
sternest: Oh Jesus! Mutant dots.
Marguerite: jesus was one of the x-men
sternest: Oh Jesus! Meanest, new fox.
Marguerite: well i dunno about foxy, but hey! i didn't really know the guy...
sternest: Hot win obediently youthful beaux. Knowingly true Laddy.
Marguerite; well aren't you a charmer?
sternest: Amateur, loyal wrencher.
Marguerite: okay nevermind, i don't wanna talk to you anymore! hummph!
sternest: Anti-women lavatory and token kind. Oh Man! Up yummy hero

Extravagant Simplicity

Glitter is extravagantly simple.
What is glitter? Well, it's just tiny pieces of shiny plastic material which you can buy in assorted colors at an art supply store.
Glitter is simple, but glitter is also magical in its simplicity.
When you throw glitter into the air, it's as if real life just had the special effects edited in. There's a cloud of shimmering air all around and as they float and fall through the air, pieces of glitter randomly shine and then disappear again.
Glitter is magical.
One second it's undetectable and then a moment later the world is sparkling!
Depending on the simple concepts of angling and reflection, glitter can appear either invisible or obviously present. Now, aside from Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, how many things can do that?
Glitter is simple to the point of complexity-- it's the epitome of extravagant simplicity.