The Captain finds a new port.

So long, fair Blogger. I'm leaving you for a sunnier, shinier spot on the interwebs.

My musings on knitting, fiction, and grad school will be reported here from now on.

Sorry about the delay, folks.

Over the last year, this blog has shifted from just knitting, to knitting plus fiction writing exploits, to mostly exploits in fiction with a few pieces of knitting thrown in. And for the last six months, there's been no updates at all.

But that doesn't mean nothing has happened. I have a six month-long backlog of knitting projects to report on and much progress has been made on the grad school front. And I'm still writing - and now Jon and I have a more legitimate website where we're writing about writing.

So here's the deal: I'm going to bring this blog up to speed in terms of knitting and then (because I've gotten the go-ahead from Jon about this) I'm going to phase this blog out and post my occasional knitting updates on the mostly-writing blog. It's a little through the looking glass but it beats trying to manage two different blogs which the last six months has shown I'm not able to do with anything like consistency.

Things I learned from Moby Dick

This morning I finished Moby Dick, and I have to say I'm a bit proud of this. I see it as an accomplishment. It's not something I ever thought I would read, or really ever had any interest in until recently, having assumed erroneously that I probably wouldn't like it much. And though I personally feel that Melville's later writing (especially Billy Budd) is actually better than his great sprawling opus on whaling and obsession (in part precisely because it is so sprawling - I seem to like Melville the same way I like Tolstoy, that is with a reasonable word limit) Moby Dick's still a damn god book. And surprisingly accessible.

Anyway, Moby Dick might have a claim to be one of the forerunners of edutainment, what with all the digressions on whales and whaling life. So, in that spirit, here's what Melville taught me along with a few observations of my own:

• Quakers are badasses. Seriously, Ahab's a fucking Quaker! I mean, I know there's more to Quakerism than sitting around quietly in rooms and being conscientious objectors, but this sort of gave me a new-found respect for them. Ahab certainly has his faults, but a lack of badass-ness is not one of them. If anything, he's too badass, know what I mean?

• I can't really imagine how big a whale is. Like, I kept picturing them as a manageable size and then having to stop and be all 'wait, no, it's so much bigger than the boat!' or 'holy shit, you can drown in a whale's head!' I bet Freud would have had a field day with this book, and likely whalers in general, as they all clearly have a deathwish.

• Melville thought whales were fish. Despite the fact that he discusses that they need to surface to breathe and have nipples, he was totally convinced they were decidedly not mammals. He's got a whole chapter to this effect.

• Harpooners were the rock stars of whaling ships.

• Ishmael and I are two peas in a pod. There's a sort of running joke between me and Jon, and before that me and my father, that I'm substantially more difficult to match with fictional characters than most people. I think this is because I'm a fundamentally boring person who doesn't do much and those aren't the sort of people one often writes about unless one wants to write a fundamentally boring book (case in point: I bear a number of similarities to Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's snarky, hermetic, fat older brother, but Doyle didn't make Mycroft his protagonist precisely because the man was rarely out of his bathrobe and had no interest in actually proving his theories via legwork, and the legwork's the interesting stuff). But, all that said, me and Ishmael are of like minds.
  

• Starbuck is one of the most tragic characters in fiction.

• Stubb is one of the most ambiguous characters in fiction (although I read him as a canny, clever sort in line with the Fool in King Lear) and one of the only ones I've ever read that's able to get away with referring to himself in the third person without it being obnoxious.

• I knew Melville was prone to homoeroticism (it's one of the reasons I like him, frankly), but it's hit critical mass here. Well, technically, I think Billy Budd's got it beat in terms of density, but it was a major driving force of the plot there and here it's just sort of incidental. In any case, there was a moment where the whalers were carrying around a giant whale penis on the ship -- past masts and other sundry already phallic things -- which was just hilarious. This was is in addition to the rom-com tone of the first section where Ishmael and Queequeeg become 'close' and the much famed "Squeeze of the Hand" chapter.

The perfect video game is Rock Band.

Well, perfect for me, anyway. Because I suck at most controller-based video games (not Wii, though, where my tendency to jerk around like a twitchy idiot actually helps), and I compulsively sing along to music and I really like playing it, too. Or, in this case, pretending to play it. Add to that the ability to make and play dress up with avatars how who cool hair options and I'm done for.

It all started last month when I went home to Texas for a week or so. First it was "hey guys, nice to be back."

Then: "Oh, is that a plastic baby guitar used for that game with the flying notes and what have you?"

Then: "Hey, I'm kind of not sucking at the drums, here..."

And finally (over and over): "So...if we're not doing anything...WHO'S UP FOR SOME ROCK BAND?! IAMIAMIAM!!"

And it hasn't really stopped. I sent jon out for an Xbox 360 literally the day we flew back into Michigan. I can now play most songs on hard on all three instruments (and a couple of songs on expert. The really easy ones, but still) for both Rock Band 2 and The Beatles: Rock Band. And sometimes I balance the microphone on some jars on the coffee table and sing along while I play my plastic baby guitar. Sometimes, people walk by my window and I feel terribly conspicuous about it, but...I mean...I'm still sitting there doing it anyway. Turns out I do a mean Ringo Starr impression. In the right octave and everything. Thanks, man voice.

No spring chicken, me (but that's alright)

I turned the big 2-5 yesterday, which puts me solidly in my mid-twenties. Last year, when Dani hit this milestone, I taunted her mercilessly and informed her over and over again that she was old. There were many jokes about broken hips made. And so, this year she returned the favor.

This is only underscored by the fact that I have been introduced around the psych department as "one of our advanced doctoral students." When did that happen? I don't think I was advanced last year. There's a similar thing happening in my grad union, for which I am one of two Solidarity and Political Action co-chairs. And one of three of the officers who actually remembers the last contract negotiation. So it's always like, "well, you, X and Y were there. Let's ask the old-timers."

This whole old-timer thing isn't bad, understand, I'm having no crisis about the fleeting nature of youth or anything. It just...sort of...snuck up on me. Damn you, time, and your unstoppable forward progression!

OK, now that that's out of my system...birthday news! Since Friday, I have done exactly three things: play The Beatles: Rock Band, watch Planet of the Apes and its numerous sequels of varying quality, and get this tattoo.

old-timey quote for an old-timey gal

It's from (not so shockingly, considering) Bartleby the Scrivener by Herman Melville (no whales are involved), which I highly recommend if you've never read it. It's brilliant. And I like it, especially the end (which is where the quote is from) and the dead-letter office passage, because it brings up a lot of interesting questions about the insignificance of life and the paradoxcial myopic importance it holds for us anyway. Why does polite society matter? Because we think it does. So, does it really matter at all? Perhaps not, suggests Bartleby, but it is sort of the only thing holding us together. Maybe that makes it matter enough. As a psychologist, I find it to be a work of fiction that addresses the underlying motives for social constructions and why we tend to get so profoundly disturbed when someone doesn't buy in to said social constructions. I have to admit, one reason why it resonates with me so much is that there's as much Bartleby in me as there is the lawyer. It's a tension I face every time I go to (what I consider) another useless meeting and one of the underpinnings of my now-legendary avoidance of my phone. In any case, it seemed a fitting if highly nerdish tattoo to get.

A final note: I will update this blog! It will happen! I have posts planned, see?

• a discussion on Rock Band in general and how I'm terribly addicted to it
• Fat Girl Face Off '09
• the Decemberists in concert
• the planning of Jarthen: Book 2
• how writing an autobiographically-based character unnerves me
• many, many socks (a week of socks! huzzah!)
  

Dear dudes who complied Time's 100 Best Movies List,

Man, do I have a bone to pick with you. I understand that narrowing down all of cinema to an essential list of the top 100 films is tricky business. In all honesty, I think I'd have some difficulty making a top 100 list just out of movies I personally own. 100 slots is really not that many, when it comes down to it, and it's likely a thankless task the two of you were saddled with.

Still, though, you botched it. And not just botched it, but botched it in some really irritating ways. Just to set the record straight and to give you a sense of where I'm coming from, I'll now lay out my top five movies of all time ever ever (no easy feat):

1) Wages of Fear
2) Rashomon
3) The Duellists
4) Lawrence of Arabia
5) The Seventh Seal

Let's discuss that list for a second. Three out of the five are in black and white. Only two are in English. Not a single one was made during my lifetime. That is a list that could only come from some practically housebound film geek who didn't get out enough as an adolescent loner (which is a shamefully accurate description of me). And not just any loner film geek, but a film geek of the rather art-snobby pretentious variety. A hipster-style film geek who has never seen American Pie. In short, one of your own. Yet, you still managed to piss me off.

Reason 1
Would you like to know how many of those five films up there you included on your list-to-end-all-lists? Huh?

One.

You gave Lawrence some props, and I thank you for that. And, hey, The Duellists is a personal favorite of mine but I understand that there are bigger, better movies out there, so I can let that one slide. Wages of Fear is a woeful oversight on your parts, but hell, it's kind of been a woeful oversight on everyone and their mother's parts since it was made. I honestly don't understand why it's never been more widely viewed than it is, but it isn't, and though I don't approve I can't say its omission surprised me.

But Rashomon? What the hell is wrong with you? It's goddamn Rashomon! It's a landmark in so many, many ways! The direct shots of the sun through the trees! The multiple perspectives and retelling and non-traditional narrative structure that was so awesomely, shockingly new at the time that it's been done and re-done now into cliche! Mifune while he was still young and untamed and really, freakishly hot! I mean, come on.

The same goes for The Seventh Seal. It's the ultimate Bergman, the Bergman to end all Bergmans. For folks not so into slow-moving subtitled films it has been and always will be synonymous with bizarre art house movies. The characterization of Death is so inescapable and prevalent that people who have never seen the movie and have no intention of ever seeing the movie can recognize it instantly when it's being referenced. And on top of that, it really is one of Bergman's most watchable films. I'm totally not kidding -- it's got sex and Death and death and plagues and Max von Sydow's bony-ass face and a rather wicked sense of humor all wrapped up in one fairly straightforward tale. How could you make any film list and not have it float to the top? Just...wow.

Reason 2
Here's where I try to give you some benefit of the doubt and end up failing. You ready? Ok, here we go. So you didn't include Rashomon, but you did include to others by Kurasawa: Ikiru and Yojimbo. Now, being a huge Kurasawa fan (and I mean, like, rabid - I have twelve of his films, no exaggeration), I was all like, yeah! Ikiru! Yojimbo! Woot!

And then, I was like...Seven Samurai much? Because, let's face it, as awesome as Ikiru and Yojimbo are, Seven Samurai is the Kurasawa film to end all Kurasawa films. And if there were slots enough for two Kurasawas, we go right back to square one with Rashomon.

Here's the problem I have with your Kurasawa choices in particular, above and beyond the fact that in his wide and varied ouvre (see? playing your game here with the fancy, pretentious film-geek lingo, fellas) these two films are really second-stringers. They are fabulous films -- I am not undercutting them in any way, and in fact I was all sorts of excited to see Ikiru in particular get some love because I think it's horribly overlooked more often than not -- but they are not the ones he is most famous for. And he's not famous for them because they weren't massive game changers and sprawling opuses (opii? who knows.) like a couple of other films of his I have previously mentioned.

We run into a similar issue with Bergman. There are two Bergmans on the list: Persona (which I am 100% on board with) and Smiles of a Summer Night. Dudes. Smiles of a Summer Night, really? Honest and true, you're going with that over our ever-present chess-playing buddy Death and co.? That's just so wrong. Smiles of a Summer Night is like Bergman's version of a Lifetime movie. I've seen it, I know all about his little foray into comedy and sexcapades. And you know what? He should've stuck to the dour, depressing descents into madness like he was good at. I...just, well, I just don't even think it's that good a movie, frankly. And with that catalogue to choose from, I mean, jesus. If you really have a beef with The Seventh Seal, at least give that other spot to the Through a Glass Darkly/Winter Light/The Silence trilogy (hey, you collapsed Godfather I and II and the LOTR, you can do that here) or Cries and Whispers or Wild Strawberries. Those are Bergman movies. Real Bergman movies.

There are other examples of this weirdness, too. For Kurbrick, you nailed it with Dr. Strangelove, but then passed over 2001: A Space Odyssey and Full Metal Jacket for Barry Lyndon. Again, it's not like I don't like Barry Lyndon, but it's just not up there with the other two. Or even up there with A Clockwork Orange, which while more recognizable and famous, is probably not as good or important a film as the others. You went with Chungking Express over other Wong Kar-Wai's, and while it's a lovely and charming little thing, it begs the question of whether you've actually seen In the Mood for Love. And the nail in the coffin: Purple Rose of Cairo over Annie Hall. how do you sleep at night? Apparently not with Annie Hall, and so I guess it sucks to be you.

You see a pattern developing here? I do. This is like a weird, paternalistic way of peppering the list with 'forgotten gems.' Movies that the rest of us really should have seen that just never get their due. Or something. Because anyone who goes with Smiles of a Summer Night over anything else Bergman did is just throwing it around to prove they can. It's like when hipsters say they only like the bands no one else has ever heard of. It's just showing off for the hell of it. And I find it rather condescending, frankly, because I can't believe you're actually serious about some of those choices, considering.

Reason 3
Like I said before, 100 spots is really not that many. How then, dare I ask, did the 1986 The Fly make it in there? No room for anything by the Marx brothers (the goddamn Marx brothers!) or anything by Sergei Eisenstein or apparently by any black people at all (not a single Spike Lee movie? Really?), but, sure, Jeff Godblum with a fly's head get's a pass.

That's just not right. So not right. I can't be alone in thinking this.

Now, I can see that you got a little playful, there, with your listings. I appreciate the sentiment behind Drunken Master II, although it wouldn't have been the kung fu movie I'd have chosen (hell, give it to the original Drunken Master if you've got to give it to Jackie Chan, otherwise there's always Enter the Dragon), and I think it's impressive that you've got I believe not one, but two Bollywoods in there. I honestly do. I can even kinda sorta see where you were going with The Fly -- something along the lines of hey! let's include some guilty pleasure-ish horror flick!

To which I respond: flies over zombies? Because I think anything by George A. Romero can do the double duty of genuinely influential and important historical film/awesomely gory guilty pleasure, plus the added benefit of the Living Dead. Ok, maybe you've got a shared zombie phobia or something. Whatever. How about Rosemary's Baby, then? There's just so much genuinely right and deliciously wrong with that one. How is The Fly going to top that?

But when it comes down to it, I don't even know if I can support you on this, either. Because if my back was against the wall, there's no way I could look at myself in the mirror if I took anything I just mentioned over Dr. Zhivago. Which you left off your list. In favor of The fucking Fly.

Conclusion
Your list fails. Not just because you left off any number of my all-time favorites, but because it's full of purposely irreverent inclusions that seem to serve no purpose but to make it look like you're trying to tell us that a) you've seen way more movies than anyone else and the obvious choices are just too obvious for you and b) you're really not a movie snob - honest! You like all kinds! To which I say, that's just obnoxious. Give the greats the credit they're due, man.

-- a fellow film fan

PS -- all ranting aside, I do agree with you on leaving Gone With the Wind off the list. That is just the most overrated piece of schlock ever.

Random and very scattered update

1) I have knitted objects to blog about again! 1 and 1/2 pairs of socks, actually, and the one pair has been done for awhile. I just need to get around to taking pictures of them.

2) I saw the Doves in concert last week. I actually bought the tickets the day the advanced sales were available, a good while before Kingdom of Rust was actually released just on faith. Because they may be my favorite band. They're at least in the top five, but I think they may be number 1. There were fantastic, just buckets of awesome, and played a good wide sampling of stuff from all of their albums, which was nice. And the tickets were ridiculously cheap -- $20! $20 bucks and I was right up to the edge of the stage! What you have to understand is that these dudes are huge in England, like with number one albums and such, and here no one but me and a handful of hipsters (of which, I grudgingly accept, I am one) pay any attention to them. Tell you what, I was glad to be American that night.

The opening act was a band called Wild Light, which I think I would have enjoyed more if I'd just listened to them instead of having to watch them, too. See, thing is that they (well, three out fo the four of them, the drummer stayed put) kept randomly switching instruments between songs - practically every song - and I just wanted to yell out that they should maybe have planned their set better and each members' facility with bass, guitar, and keyboards was growing less impressive with each handoff. Also, they kept turning around when they played and showing their skinny asses shoved into ludicrously tight pants for no discernible reason. Which was distracting. I kept worrying that they would get blood clots.

But the best part is that one of the multi-insturmentalists bore a rather striking resemblance to Trent Lane from Daria. Good show, that.

I also kind of think the dude behind him looks like Jonny Lee Miller when he was all blond in Trainspotting.

3) I'm growing rather improbably attached to crayons. One of the characters (who is a sneaky surprise character that sort of popped up out of nowhere and is steadily taking things over. There's a looming blog post in that phenomenon, I think, so stayed tuned. If you're so inclined.) from the 2nd generation City of Mages thing I'm working on is a painter, and I have felt compelled to replicate what I imagine his style of portraits of the other characters would be if he existed. I'm not sure why, it's not like I'm terribly artistic. In any case, I have no paint, so I've settled for a somewhat strange mixture of a black sharpie and crayons. You can do a surprising amount with crayons if you get creative - lots of shading and using the direction of the strokes to heighten shapes and simulate thre dimensionality. I never knew that way back in the day. One thing though, all the colors are so damn bright that everything I do looks a little too pop art-ish. Because apparently children hate muted, rich dark colors and they don't make a box of crayons for adults who like to channel fictional elvish painters. Crazy world.

Non-sequitar rant: the horrors of spring

So, I have terrible allergies basically year-round. I have built up enough of a tolerance to Benedryl that I can take three or four at a time and not get sleepy. Which is kind of ridiculous. In the spring, it gets worse because things bloom and there's pollen and nature is awakening and what have you, which apparently my nose is not designed to handle. Even though it was designed by nature. Whatever. So, I usually take more anti-histamines than usual and throw a few decongestants and just go with it, and usually that works.

But for some reason, it is not working this year. I'm not sure what it is -- the crazy roller coaster Michigan temperature, the roofing work the landlord is doing on my apartment building, the cactus that has recently taken up residence on my desk, the Hand of God striking me down (via clogged nasal cavities) for my rampant and unrelenting blasphemy -- but it is ridiculously bad this year. I'm popping more pills than a bored WASPy housewife and burning through tissues like there's no tomorrow.

But the worst part is the sneezing, hands down. I'm sneezing in strings of five or six at a time, and they are always, always followed by a string of expletives just as long. Which makes me look like I have Tourette's. Thank christ the semester's over and I'm working from home most days. Still, though, it's only a matter of time before I drop the F-bomb in a lab meeting.

I will post again soon

But for now I'm trapped in the Kingdom of Rust.

It is possibly the best album ever. I'm in a Doves coma.

My apologies.

My new haircut: El Cockatiel

Yep, I cut it all off again. I've been cutting my own hair for years (because when your hair is thick and curly and you can't afford to/are too lazy to find anyplace better than Supercuts, you learn to cut your own or die trying), and it's basically one of those things I do when I'm bored or frustrated.

I had been thinking about a sort of fauxhawky-crestish thing like this (but, you know curly) on and off since I first saw season 3 of the L Word:

this, by the way is the only likable thing the character Jenny has ever done on that show. Also? It took me forever to find a picture of it on the interwebs

I just decided to go with it one day a few weeks ago after I had been laid up with a migraine and was officially done teaching. I was afraid that if I had cut my hair dramatically different twice in one semester it would scream FLAKE to my students. And it would have if I had stopped halfway through:

it's like Simply Red, but brunette...and with Jon's foot

Right? Anyway, this is the finished product:

by the way, that's my office in the background. Exciting, huh?

I have to say, I really love it. It's very much the result of knowing the peculiarities of my hair like the back of my hand, though. I cut the back and sides just short enough that they wouldn't curl, and kept the crown about and inch longer than that so the natural texture of my hair would do it's thing. I sleep on my side in such a way that cause my hair to stick up like that already, so I really just have to slick down the sides and back and stick some styling wax in the hawk part to keep it as is and I'm done.

By the way, this is the origin for my personal nickname for the 'do.

Elvis's pompadour

+

the crest from a cockatiel

=

my new hairdo

Other interesting tidbits that transpired during FGFO

1) I got a new iPod because Jon's ass made a slow, steady progressive attack on it that resulted in a more and more busted screen that recently became unusable. I am seriously considering not letting him touch the new one (which has DO NOT SMASH ME! engraved on it) as it seems more delicate than the last.

2) I wore the most ridiculous outfit ever to escort Dani to the car to get diet cherry cokes from it to feed her horrible addiction. See?



Yeah, bet you're glad that's burned into your retinas. Best part? I totally almost got hit by a car. Could've died....in that outfit. what a way to go that would've been.

3) My friend Cathleen and I carved small melons well after Halloween. Belated Melon O'Lanterns, Huzzah!

We had pumpkins but didn't get around to carving them. Now squirrels are harvesting the seeds from them and becoming strangely domesticated outside our front door.

4) I saw Joan Baez in concert (with Dani again - she's a fixture of these fun things, huh?)!! It was so awesome - she totally made digs at Bob Dylan and played a lot of songs I was really hoping for. And Dani and I were possibly the youngest people in the audience by a margin of about 25 years.

Next I shall discuss my new hairdo in depth. So stay tuned for that (if you're interested, I mean).

A brief glimpse into the future...

Now that all the FGFO madness is done, I've got some catching up to do. Notably:

• A new haircut. Yes, another one.
• Awesome knee socks.
• More awesome knee socks!
• 3/4 of a sweater I haven't ever posted about.

Exciting times.

FGFO halftime show: My birthday!

I turned 24 last week! That means I'm in my mid-twenties, and I have been warned by several people independently that it's all downhill from here and to prepare myself, as best as one can, for the dreaded quarter-life crisis which is surely lurking around every corner. So far so good, though.

I took my birthday totally off from school. Moved office hours, refused to come in for meetings, the whole shebang. I slept in (which was great) and then popped in Excalibur¹ and chopped my hair off. See?


I think it was time. The long hair was a hassle, what with it swallowing pocket change and clogging shower drains.

All in all, very successful, but more because people are awesome than that I gave myself a haircut. Aside from the lovely posts Jon wrote for me here and Dani wrote here, along with some mushful emails from Jennie and Tamar, Jen and Van came to visit! The best part? They made the foor of the gods - cashew cookies. Seriously, I beg them to make them every time I visit them.

Last but not least, my friend Cathleen surprised me with this:


There's a running joke in our research lab that I have a sketchy van that I use to lure unwitting naive data into which I then have my way with. This thing is going proudly on my desk forevermore.
__________________________________________________________
¹I just got this back from Tamar last month. For some reason over a year ago, a CD of her dad's musical stylings would up in the DVD case and vice versa. Basically, she highjacked it from me.

Updates abound!

Oh, knitting blog (and the odd reader who may or may not be perusing this), I have so many exciting things to tell you about! I'll keep it short and sweet though and get straight to the point, though.

1. Knitting News
I started the last of the need-to-be-knitted-ASAP socks of the sock queue, and I'm making pretty quick progress on them. They're Rhiannon knee socks that are destined for my sister's best friend's sister, Mandy, who is awesome, and very much deserving of such cool cabled knee socks.


I'm finding the cable charts way easier to memorize than the lace chart for the Millicent knee socks I just finished, even though the snaking side cables are worked on a different number of rows per repeat than the main cable which can be tricky to keep track of. More proof that cabling comes a lot more naturally to me than lace knitting, I guess.

2. Face News


Check it out! My super-fancy new glasses finally arrived! Aren't they awesome?? I've wanted a pair of white framed for awhile now, although I'm not really sure why. They fit well, I love them, and feel like it was totally worth it to splurge on literally the only thing I am guaranteed to wear every day for the foreseeable future.

The coolest thing about them, though? Definitely the back/top. See?


3. Best Souveneir Ever News
After hanging with Jon's family last week, we went to New York to visit Tamar and whisk her away to the house her family owns in the Hamptons (yes, THOSE Hamptons. How badass is that?). Our many adventures frolicking along the seashore will most likely be detailed by my esteemed guest blogger, Jon , so stay tuned for that. The reason I'm bringing this up is that at the beach house, we stumbled across the following book:


Quite a title, right? Intrigued, we starting reading it and found out that it was a Cold War era novel written in the most heavy handed style possible in the mid '60s. Let's just say that it really should have had a subtitle along the lines of "Or, Why ICBMs Totally Suck and Endanger the Free World." This just about sums up the tone of the book:


Seriously, though? Grab a copy of this if you ever get an oppurtunity. It has characters named Skipper and Pixie! And sometimes the characters use the term 'balls' as an exclamation of skepticism and/or disbelief, which Jon and I totally have adopted wholeheartedly. Here's an example of how best to use it, in case you're interested:

Me: You know you really need to watch your portion sizes.

Jon: My portion sizes are fine! I don't eat that much....

Me: Balls, man! In the last three hours, you've eat four sandwhiches! Unless you're in the Olympics, you can't possibly be that hungry.

Jon: Touche.

4. Cat News
Last but not least, I have a video for you! During his last trip to the vet, Fatty was deemed truly deserving of his nickname and we were warned that he was in danger of becoming diabetic if he gained much more weight. So we decided to take action! We've spent a good portion of the summer acclimating Fatty to a harness, and then holding him out on our landing, in order to prepare him to start being walked on a leash. Recently, we've made great progress on that front.

Proper eyewear = spike in awesome knitting content?

Only time will tell, but I'll go out on a limb and say, probably! So here's what happened: a few months ago, Jon broke my glasses (this has happened to several pairs already, but these were really awesomely sturdy glasses - they fell off a giant statue unscathed once! - so I had high hopes) which meant I had to start wearing my backup pair. What I didn't realize was that my backup pair sucked some major ass.

First, the glasses themselves didn't fit right at all. I have kind of a tiny head and the glasses fit weirdly about the ears and would fall off if I looked down. This lead to slight feelings of vertigo and much panicky clutching at handrails while walking down stairs like an old lady. But that's just a slightly annoying thing. The real problem was that the glasses, which had the same prescription as the ones that fell prey to Jon's clumsiness, were definitely not strong enough. I couldn't read powerpoints from the back of classrooms or recognize people on the street (which may or may not have lead to some awkwardness here and there). Lately, Jon and I have started playing this game whenever we're driving around:

Jon: "I can read that sign now, tell me when you can, ok?"

......10 second pause.......

Me: "Ok, I can kind of read it now."

Jon: "Oh man. That's sad."

Obviously, it's been clear for awhile that I need new glasses. Stands to reason, since I haven't actually gotten an eye exam since before I studied abroad which was...oh...about 5 years ago. I bet you're probably shaking your head right about now, tsk tsk-ing at me for not getting it done sooner. Well, for awhile it really wasn't that big a problem, more of a minor annoyance, and besides I'm not exactly rolling in cash what with being a grad student and all.

Then I won the NSF (YEAH!! WHAT, WHAT!!), which will effectively double what I'll be making next semester. Perfect, I thought, I will just get through the summer and get new glasses with my first paycheck! But then the eye strain from wearing crappy out-of-date glasses that fall off all the time started giving me migraines, so I caved. See?¹

These do not fall off. Oh, happy day!

HELP! The giant grandma/hipster prescription sunglasses are eating my face!

In any case, having appropriate corrective lenses should allow me to fitter, happier, more productive² knitter - or at least one with fewer headaches. I'm already making wicked fast progress on Sam's knee socks.
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¹The cute little rectangular black ones? Yeah those will eventually be bumped down to backup pair status. I totally splurged on a fantastic (and substantially more expensive) pair with better quality lenses, but they are backordered and won't arrive for awhile. I figured I'd earned it, what with being a badass researcher who won an NSF and all. Besides, it's close enough to my birthday to claim them as my birthday present to myself. Ah....rationalizations abound!

²The other really exciting thing that happened recently? I got to go see Radiohead!! I'm a massive Radiohead fan and I've never gotten the chance to see them (Jon has, though, and has been known to go on and on about how awesome they are live). We had to drive 3 hours for it, and I couldn't make out a damn thing happening on stage since I was still wearing the old crappy glasses, but it was amazing nonetheless. They totally played all the songs I wanted them too! It's as if the band and I had a weird half-blind mind-meld or something. Seriously, though, I was kind of a giddy little schoolgirl about the entire thing.

My 100th post: the 80th Annual Oscars

So....last weekend was another one of those socialist extravaganzas that I’m prone to going to – you know, trapped in a room discussing the evils of capitalism and how to fix it for 14 hours straight 3 days in a row. By Sunday night, Dani and I were understandably exhausted and decided to watch the Oscars. We thought we'd let you in on how that little adventure went for us. The following was composed as we watched it and then edited for clarity later:
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As Jon Stewart emerges from some sort of tube:
Me: that set….looks like plumbing

Best costumes:
Dani: I love Cate Blanchett
Me: me too
(Elizabeth:The Golden Age wins)
Dani: I agree with that. Period pieces always win.
Me: hey, that winner’s dress rocks! I suppose it would have to, considering the category.
Dani: Whatev. She has veiny hands and looks like an elementary school art teacher.

Weird 80th anniversary montage:
Jon: Is that when Peter O’Toole won the lifetime achievement award?
Me: Don’t even get me started. It’s a crime he hasn’t actually won one yet. That’s a big reason why the Oscars are bullshit, if you ask me.
Dani: Wait – is that old guy giving a speech Charlie Chaplin?! Creepy.
Jon: IMDB says he died in the 70s.
Me: Hearing him speak is so weird…I feel like I’ve seen him naked now.

Best animated feature:
Dani: These choices are lame. Why no simpson's movie?
Me: Maybe because it was a TV show before?
(Ratatouille wins)
Dani: WHAT? Ratatouille won best animated feature over Persepolis?? That is so not cool. {lame point #1}

Best makeup:
Dani: Whoa, Katherine Heigl looks scary.
Jon: Yeah…like a robot.
Me: Norbit was nominated for best make up? Wha? How could it be nominated for anything? {lame point #2}
(La Vie En Rose wins)
Dani: Marion Cottillard is beyond thrilled.
Me: imagine if she actually wins…

(Amy Adams, who Dani found awesome, sings a song from Enchanted which Jon found bizarre. Then, we watched a creepy mastercard commercial with a guy with a strange, creepy independently moving eye and were profoundly disturbed.)

Visual effects:
Dani: did they just call him dwayne johnson?? the hell?
Me: Well yeah. He's...THE ROCK.
(while the visual effects team from The Golden Compass accept their Oscars)
Me: Those dudes look like a barbershop quartet.

Art direction:
Dani: This is a hard category. I’d be happy with any of these winning.
(a pair of presumably Italian people accept awards for Sweeney Todd and give an extraordinarily stilted speech)
Me: Man. They are not so good at English…this is kind of painful.

Supporting actor:
Dani: What is with Jennifer Hudson’s boobs?
Me: They’re, like, 3D! Also, did Phillip Seymour Hoffman highlight hair?
(Javier Bardem wins)
Me: Aww! He brought his mom! That’s nice.

(A montage of binouculars and periscopes that way made before the writer’s strike ended was played, which I found awesome {highlight #1}, and Keri Russell came out in a lovely dress to introduce a song from August Rush. Jon, who actually really wanted to see the movie, started incoherently singing along.)

Live action short film:
Dani: Why are all of these foreign?
Craig (Dani’s Gentlemen Friend): Tonto Woman looks awesome!

Animated Short:
(Peter and the Wolf wins)
Dani: are the cutting out all the pauses? And opening the envelope ahead of time?! {lame point #3}
Jon: the winners brought scary peter doll!
Me: It kind of looks like you, dude.

Best Supporting Actress:
(while watching a montage of past winners)
Me: I do love alan arkin
Jon: I hate alan alda.
Me: I do love tilda swinton, as well! That lady behind her has way too much cleavage happenng, though…
Dani: Tilda Swinton is looking a little scary alien-bowie-esque.
Me: Hey, did she just mention the Clooney Batman Nipple-suit?
Dani: Yes! We should hang out with her. {highlight #2}

Best Adapted Screenplay:
Me: Man, could the Coen Brother’s acceptance speech have been any more awkward?

(we were subjected to yet another lame montage, but noticed a mysterious Jerry Orbach look alike in audience before it played. Then, Hannah Montana introduced the third musical number, which turned out to be some vaguely racist extravaganza from Enchanted) {lame point #4}

Best Actress:
Jon: Forest Whitaker lost a ton of weight – what an amazing face!
(Marion Cottilard wins and gives a speech that includes the following direct quotations: "you rocked my life!!" and "thank you life, thank you love, it is true there are some angels in this city!") highlight #3
Me: Her dress is…scaly. She’s like a scaly Sally Field up there.

(a song from Once was played by the earnest-looking pair from the movie, and then there was an extremely enjoyable montage of the past best picture winners, where Craig made fun of my deep love of overly long dramas where nothing happens)

Honorary Oscar:
Me: Is Nicole Kidman wearing tinsel?
Jon: She looks like robot!
(tiny old man takes the stage to give the longest and most rambling acceptance speech in history, which brough Harrison Ford to the brink of tears and made Laure Linney actually cry. Tommy Lee Jones, on the other hand, has a mean poker face) {lame point #4}

Best Foreign Film:
Dani: Kazakhstan made a film?

(the last song from Enchanted is performed – all watching agree it is very lame indeed)

Best Song:
(that song from Once is announced as the winner)
Dani: I called it! Hey, why'd she change out of her awesome dress?
Me: Look! Laura Linney’s crying again!
Dani: zzzzzzzzz (she passed out on the couch) {highlight #4}

(during the people who died montage, I shocked to find out that Deborah Kerr had passed on. I deeply mourned the loss of Bergman, and was once again made fun of for my movie-dorkness by Craig and Jon)

Best Actor
Me: How weird is it that the dude from Eastern Promises is Aragon?
Jon: He is?? I had no idea!
(Daniel Day-Lewis wins and gives a speech where he mentions his fantastically-named children: Gabriel, Ronan, and Cashel)
Jon: I predicted that after I saw the SAG awards.
Me: What?! When did you see the SAG awards? Since when do you watch awards shows in secret by yourself?

Best Director:
Me: Hee! Martin Scorcese and his caterpillar eyebrows…
(The Coen brothers win and awkwardly explain that they made a movie when they were twelvish entitled Henry Kissinger: Man On The Go.) {highlight #5}

Best Picture:
Craig: Oh, hey! A third rousing speech by the Coen brothers!

Jon: You know who was conspicuously absent? Lindsay Lohan, that’s who.

How do you like the new layout?

I thought it was time to update it, since....well, there's no real good reason except that I didn't want to do my homework and kind of felt like tinkering with HTML instead. It's weird, but sometimes I get minor cravings for it. In any case, I'm quite proud of the third column.

Year in Review: 2007

I feel like if I get it in before the end of January, it still counts.

Knitting wise, it was a great year, even if it did slow down a bit at the end. Of course there was standard cold weather gear:





The clear winner, in terms of number of completed objects alone (and, I might add, continuous wear) are the socks! I went totally sock-crazy last year - but if this is wrong, I don't know if I want to be right. Because then I'd have really cold feet. Instead, I have these (well, some of them):






This year I made tons of real clothes, too! Well, not tons, but there was a 600% increase in sweater production from last year. Warm outer garments abound!




So that was the year in knitting, finally. Exciting right? But not half so exciting as this weekend....when I tell you what I've got on the needles! Oh, the possibilities of another 11 months of knitted goodness.

The Adventures of a Christmas Hermit, pt 1

Sorry for the month-long vacuum of silence. This semester was just ridiculously brutal - between research, classes, and teaching (which totally consumed all of my time), and some messy personal issues that kind of sucked but seem to be working themselves out, there was really no time to sleep. Or eat properly. Or (shockingly enough) knit.

But all that's behind me now, because it's Christmas break! And I'm spending it here in Ann Arbor, alone but for the cats. Whenever I tell people that, they tend to gasp in horror and tell me that it's sad/not healthy/bad for me to spend the holidays alone, which I find amusing because all I really need right now is to catch up on sleep and veg out with the TV and some knitting. And Warcraft, which I just started playing and am now crazily addicted to. I don't really need to travel all the way to Texas to go see my very nice, if somewhat overwhelming, family nearly as much as I need to sleep in everyday and not change out of my pajamas all day. It's cool, they've given their blessing.

Deep down inside, I think what I really want to be when I grow up is a mad scientist. But not an evil one bent on world domination, just one out in the boonies fiddling with shit and periodically sending an assistant out for provisions and supplies. So, less evil genius in the song "Skullcrusher Mountain"¹ and more tiny dude at the Southern Oracle in The Neverending Story. Yeah, I want to be him, but marginally taller, a woman, and with all my teeth.


Taking the Mad Scientist as a model for my week as a Christmas Hermit obviously means I'll be keeping myself busy. I mean, any decent mad scientist is highly productive, right? Always a new death ray of transportation pod or something. Just look at Dr. Weird. So, expect some knitting to be accomplished (though there is a hiatus from the Sock Queue...a gift from me to myself), great leaps to be made regarding Jarthen, many a marathon of bad TV to be watched, and my 4 (and counting) Warcraft charatcers² to level up all over the place. I may also construct a fort out of sheets, which would be only fitting because every mad scientist has a secret mountain stronghold.

the beginnings of a herringbone vest and copious notes about Jarthen

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¹ Appropriately enough, someone's already made a video to this particularly awesome song using Warcraft. The heavens have aligned.


²In case you're interested, my four characters are Wholahay (a draenei shaman, level 11), Svava (a night elf druid, level 11), Madge Bobbins (a troll hunter, level 10), and Elcrona (a blood elf warlock, level 6). It should be noted that the first name is a reference to Dionne from ANTM cycle 8's nickname for herself, and all other names are in some way Jarthen related. Because I'm apparently competing with the guy that made that video for the title of Biggest Dork in the Universe.