http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJvHrx1X-Gk&feature=related
Friday, April 16, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Baljinnyam Posts Bullshit
Title summarizes what follows below:
I've been thinking about posting on this glorious online forum for a long time now, and I never did because I always felt that what I had to say would not be nearly as funny or as entertaining as what you talented people write.
Well, here goes.
I think that I shall tell a story from my childhood. When I was small, growing up in Mongolia, I would often spend hours looking out of my grandparents' apartment window, observing the happenings of the surrounding neighborhood, the cars and the buses that went by, etc. One day, around the age of 3, I was hanging out with my grandpa. I turned to him, and I said, "Grandpa. Did you know that all my friends go to school? I went with them yesterday." I, then, proceeded to tell my grandpa, in elaborate detail, what happened at school. To which, my grandpa just nodded and let me finish telling my story.
Three things to note: 1) What I was saying was funny because I didn't have any friends and because I never went to school. 2) I am thankful that my grandpa let me exercise my imagination. I really loved that man. He inhabits a large part of my heart. 3) Even at an early age, I showed an affinity for all things academic? Cool? I think so.
Now, in this academic stage on my life, all the friends whom I love are at school. They make life better. Except, one friend is very far away, "in the land of the midnight sun."
I've been thinking about posting on this glorious online forum for a long time now, and I never did because I always felt that what I had to say would not be nearly as funny or as entertaining as what you talented people write.
Well, here goes.
I think that I shall tell a story from my childhood. When I was small, growing up in Mongolia, I would often spend hours looking out of my grandparents' apartment window, observing the happenings of the surrounding neighborhood, the cars and the buses that went by, etc. One day, around the age of 3, I was hanging out with my grandpa. I turned to him, and I said, "Grandpa. Did you know that all my friends go to school? I went with them yesterday." I, then, proceeded to tell my grandpa, in elaborate detail, what happened at school. To which, my grandpa just nodded and let me finish telling my story.
Three things to note: 1) What I was saying was funny because I didn't have any friends and because I never went to school. 2) I am thankful that my grandpa let me exercise my imagination. I really loved that man. He inhabits a large part of my heart. 3) Even at an early age, I showed an affinity for all things academic? Cool? I think so.
Now, in this academic stage on my life, all the friends whom I love are at school. They make life better. Except, one friend is very far away, "in the land of the midnight sun."
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
borrrreeeddd
so, I am putting off doing work. so I decided to amazon search interesting things.
Apparently, illustrators believe that there are trees in Point Hope, AK:
At $495.00, this volume speaks for itself:
and finally:
Apparently, illustrators believe that there are trees in Point Hope, AK:
At $495.00, this volume speaks for itself:
and finally:
god bless the fillmore
i solemnly regret not being able to see mgmt, la roux, the dead weather, and yeasayer in the same week. this is my life.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
into the madding crowd the caged cuckoo flies
ihasahotdog.com...
DO IT. It's not that I'm sponsoring mindless procrastination, but there's something to be said for the rejuvenating benefits of not being able to draw breath due to sustained bouts of giggly giddiness.
And it's the time of the quarter when the general philosophy is "every thing goes; don't worry, be happy because it's physically impossible to endure higher levels of cortisone than this----ARRGG WHY ARE YOU NOT DEFLATING???"
If the sentence above isn't resolving itself into anything that makes even a modicum of sense, that's fine. In fact, that's kinda the point. (I mean, what was the point of Sandy's midnight pre-SLE final goth makeover? It was just delightful for plain delight's sake.)
Chronic nonsensicality.
Habitual whimsicality.
Burtonian fantasticality and Dali-esque bizarre insanity.
If you're still find yourself stubbornly refusing to submit to this Faisanite credo, I prescribe a hearty dosage of the fifth season of LOST.
But on a more earnest note, I would like to violently wish everyone good luck on the impeding week of mayhem.
Remember that the robin's egg azure of California skies are ever-forgiving, ever-enduring. Except when it rains, that is.
DO IT. It's not that I'm sponsoring mindless procrastination, but there's something to be said for the rejuvenating benefits of not being able to draw breath due to sustained bouts of giggly giddiness.
And it's the time of the quarter when the general philosophy is "every thing goes; don't worry, be happy because it's physically impossible to endure higher levels of cortisone than this----ARRGG WHY ARE YOU NOT DEFLATING???"
If the sentence above isn't resolving itself into anything that makes even a modicum of sense, that's fine. In fact, that's kinda the point. (I mean, what was the point of Sandy's midnight pre-SLE final goth makeover? It was just delightful for plain delight's sake.)
Chronic nonsensicality.
Habitual whimsicality.
Burtonian fantasticality and Dali-esque bizarre insanity.
If you're still find yourself stubbornly refusing to submit to this Faisanite credo, I prescribe a hearty dosage of the fifth season of LOST.
But on a more earnest note, I would like to violently wish everyone good luck on the impeding week of mayhem.
Remember that the robin's egg azure of California skies are ever-forgiving, ever-enduring. Except when it rains, that is.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
substitute teachers have fun too
hey guys, i'm working at the only school in point hope. the middle school kids play this online game all the time. it seems kinda weak at first, but now i can't stop playing.
lineflyer 1
lineflyer 2
lineflyer 1
lineflyer 2
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
shout out to my treeps!! (get it? trees + peeps)
I can communicate empathically with plants! I suspect that my great-grandmother did too. On my mom’s side I come from a family with a bit of a supernatural bent – people who have premonitions and see ghosts. I don’t know if being able to communicate with trees is really related to that, but it might be.
When I was a lonely boarding school kid trees saved my life in small but important ways. I remember a copper beech tree just outside the dorm I lived in for three years who became almost a parental figure. We developed a relationship over the first year I was at the school, and it continued to support me over time. This wonderful tree was old, large and awesome. It was probably the most stable figure in my life, and had the clearest voice out of all the plants I’ve ever interacted with. It would remind me that I wasn’t alone, and it would give me little mental nudges when it thought my worries were too transitory to be important.
You can imagine that as a nerdy, lesbian tree-psychic I wasn’t the most popular kid ever but with the trees in their New England glory all around me I really didn’t care. I witnessed a dramatic world of life and rebirth, changing seasons and unchanging years that seemed beyond many of the things that school made me worry about. I had some human friends who were awesome, some of whom even accepted this whole tree-thing I had going on. The copper beech, a gingko down the street, a pine tree by the lake and three maples by the path to the schoolhouse all supported me too, and I needed it.
These days my life has so many human connections that I barely even remember that I can have plant ones, too. On Saturday, without thinking, I greeted a tree on campus in the way that I used to. It had been so long that I forgot how to close that part of my mind back up. It seemed as though tree consciousness were everywhere. I remembered what it used to be like on fall evenings in New Hampshire, when every deciduous tree and bush extravagantly mourned its leaves and I thought I was going crazy, surrounded by voices that weren’t voices. I remembered, too, the wonderful feeling it gave me of never having to be alone.
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