A Silvertongued Serenade

Peek show!!

2011-01-03T21:12:00.006-05:00

It's official: Blogger and I have parted ways. I have several posts up on the new blogs, so come have a peek!

Mandarin Blue:

If you like Christmas, love stories, comics or shiny objects, you might want to check out my post about my date at La Salette shrine. It's rainbowgasmic!

If you're willing to bear with me through the hard times, join me as I reminisce about my grandfather, who passed away on New Year's Day.

Want to know what songs are blowing out my speakers this month? As always, it's quite a mix.

Silvertongue 2.0:

One of the many bracelets I made as a gift this Christmas, with a pattern if you want to make one yourself!

How to make "Inception" work for you - yet another of my crazy crackpot dreams.

Photography: Our last day with the Christmas tree.

Brewings of a Mad Barista:

Perfecting "The Perfect Cap" - a great read if you're one of the many New Years resolutionists starting a new diet this week!

That's all, folks!

Peace, love and... peace!
Miss Rex

The times they are a-changin'

2010-12-28T14:17:00.001-05:00

Big changes are around the corner for A Silvertongued Serenade.

You might remember when I started A Dustland Fairytale. That blog was supposed to be something of a journal - a venue for personal stories, rants, etc. that were too long/uninteresting for my main blog. But then I forgot about A Dustland Fairytale and posted long, uninteresting things here anyway.

That, combined with more recent advice that I make the switch to Wordpress, combined with the frustration that is customizing Blogger layouts, combined with the fact that I'm graduating soon and it just seems more professional to have separate blogs for separate purposes, has prompted the change that is about to take place. Yes, Blogger, it is time for us to part.

Soon I will have three new blogs:

1. Silvertongue 2.0, the new home of all things creative. My writing, including stories, poetry, and the occasional philosophical discourse, will go here. Chronicles of my dreams will go here. My art - that is, photography and whatever crafts I've undertaken - will go here. It is the place for anything bestowed on me by my muse.

2. Mandarin Blue, which will replace the Dustland Fairytale I never used. Here you'll find the sort of things I would keep in a journal, from stories about life (many soon to be illustrated) to rants and ramblings about the injustices of the universe, etc.

3. Brewings of a Mad Barista, the new address of Claymore reviews and creations. With your help I think this could really take off. I have mostly exhausted the existing Claymore menu, and so, in 2011, I'll be taking suggestions. You can propose new combinations of flavors, unexpected ingredients (as Kenya added fresh squeezed orange juice to chai), or even other places to try coffee besides my own café. I'd love to branch out and see what the Boston area has to offer.

I hope to have all of this ready in time for the New Year, but as sick and exhausted as I feel right now, this may or may not be a possibility. Just know that it's coming.

Peace, love and candy cane brownies,
Miss Rex

A Festival of Lights

2010-12-24T23:32:00.005-05:00

Merry Christmas.

I've been reading Hyperbole and a Half, and I've decided that my boring life stories need to be illustrated so as to be more captivating to you, my beloved and mostly-imaginary audience. I'm not sure yet what style I want to draw in - should I go with very crude stick figures, like H&1/2's Allie, or do something more like what you see here (which is actually easier for me, believe it or not)?

This picture is meant to be one of a series, but it was all I could get done tonight, A) Because I'm tired and not sure exactly what I even want it to look like, B) Because my only means of getting drawings on my computer is via crappy webcam or crappy camera phone, and C) Because I apparently broke Photoshop for life by making an enormous poster with 50 layers on my last day at Skipping Stone.

Now it's time to go to bed and wait for Santa Claus!

UPDATE: Apparently I also broke Blogger with my picture last night. But never fear, for I now have a card reader and can upload pictures of pictures that don't suck! Thank you Santa =)

Peace on earth and good will toward men,
Miss Rex

The End is Near

2010-12-18T11:19:00.002-05:00

As evidenced by the dwindling number of stress-induced zits marring my face, the much be-groaned finals week has come to an end! Which means (drum roll, please... or rather, victorious trumpet fanfare) I'm on to my LAST SEMESTER OF SCHOOL for the foreseeable future!

I have eight more credits to complete before earning my undergraduate degree. Next semester, between advanced creative writing and my senior project, will be all about finishing a FULL DRAFT of my novel so that I can start sending out queries over the summer... with the promised guidance of Skipping Stone! Many great things lie ahead, and I can't wait to get started - but not before I've indulged in the annual Christmastime month of hibernation and, of course, the chaos known as holiday shopping, which promises to be even more chaotic than usual.

I had the great misfortune of leaving my debit card in an ATM and, consequently, having it shredded, just a few weeks before the biggest gift-giving extravaganza of the year. I finally got a new one this week, which I have been unable to take advantage of due to final projects, papers, and portfolios (although, thankfully, no formal exams). So now, with a week to go until Christmas, I have to purchase stuff for just about everyone I know and find time to hand-make gifts for the rest of the people I know.

The homemade gifts are actually the easy part. It's the grandmas I can never figure out. One of my grandmas I hardly even see except when she turns up on birthdays and Christmas to hand out $25 Macy's gift cards. The best thing I ever bought with one was a toaster oven. As great a purchase as that was (and I truly mean that; I use it every day in my apartment), I am always tempted to buy her a gift card she will find equally useless - to, say, Newbury Comics, which is my favorite store - and then offer to trade. But I suppose that would be rude.

Peace, love and white elephants,
Miss Rex

Finals week post 3: Random quotes

2010-12-15T00:33:00.003-05:00

Some people collect stamps, string, or stickers. Others collect mugs, DVDs, and anything made by Apple. I happen to have a rather extensive CD collection, but the collection I'd like to share today is (a small portion of) my quote collection. Yes, yes, how predictable that the writer collects words. What can I say? My "Quotes" word doc is like a scrapbook to me. I'm terrible at remembering to take pictures, so all I have to remember some of the best days in life are the absurd things people said while I happened to have a pen handy.

Caution: This post is rated PG-13. There's some ast*r*sk*d language and subject matter I wouldn't speak of in front of your small child/conservative Christian roommate. But as the following conversation with my supervisor would suggest, you can probably handle it, and who doesn't need a little hilarity to get their hump day off the ground?

That Narnia Girl: I think I could handle it.
Eramer: Handle what?
Me: Profanity.
Eramer: What the f*ck’re you talking about?

Me: Guess what.
JW: What?
Me: I love you.
Taz: Well that was an easy guessing game.

Me: i didnt say lineart was for neanderthals, just that it was a simple concept. if cutting your toenails is that difficult for you then you probably shouldn't be attempting lineart.

Guy outside the window: AOSIUFINEUIFHAEFJDSKFHDFIUGA!!!!
Me: (yelling out window) could you repeat that?
Guy: Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair!
Me: OK! Just hold on a second!!

Jinx!! You owe me a blow job!!

Taz: I’ve been singing “I’ve been working on the railroad,” but I clearly have not.

Me: Is that a lobster… or a baby?

Mnomanoms: She wanted an adverbjective.

Taz: I’m notcho momma!

Me: I hate that sherbet doesn’t have an r in it
Jo-Yo: Yes it does
Me: No, look. S-H-E-R-B-E-T
Jo-Yo: It has an R.
Me: But it’s not SHERBERT.
Jo-Yo: But if it didn’t have an R it would be shebet
Me: Shibbit! It’s gibberish for sh*t!

JW: My eyes are peeing.

Rad: They sold it for, like, really expensive.

Plunging a toilet is like giving a hand job.

That Narnia Girl: Most Voltorbs are red.
Me: Yes, I know. I’m not an idiot. I watch Pokémon.

Kenya: So how was the movie?
Me: Um… good.
Kenya: Did you… watch the movie?
Me: .....no.
Kenya: Yeah, didn’t think so.

Me: If there was one good thing I ever got out of cosmo, it was no sexin’ with socks on.

Me: Ravin just asked me when Thanksgiving is.
Mnomanoms: It’s on Thursday. Like it ALWAYS is!

Me: You wouldn’t kill our child! Even if it was a tree!

Puddlesauce! – me and Mnomanoms

Taz: This is a sign that we MUST go to Canada!

JW: Surprisingly, chewing on my bones doesn’t feel good.

Me: You’re closer to the blind-cracker.

Taz: Take off your little Scottish hat, mon

Eramer: Rex, don’t leave me!
Me: What day am I not allowed to leave?
Eramer: Ever! Never leave me.
Me: OK. Don’t worry, I’ll never leave you. But you’re gonna have to hire me.

Peace, love, and peppermint steamers,
Miss Rex

Finals week post 2: Kicks and Giggles

2010-12-12T15:58:00.009-05:00

Thank you, Gandalf, for those words of wisdom. However, before you all get back to studying, give your brain a break and have a laugh with me. The pictures below have, throughout the semester, given me cause to giggle, marvel, or simply shake my head in disbelief.

Check it out: I got a window sheet. Unfortunately this was truly all I had for privacy my first week or so back at school for the fall...

Somehow I don't think this is what your bros are thinking of when they talk about a stripper in a cake.

Just in case you need to make guacamole for an army:

Glad this wasn't my car some Tuesday/Thursday morning at 8AM as I was trying to leave for Skipping Stone...

Sugar cereal cemented with sugar glue: Just what the doctor ordered for Taz!!!

Of all the problems I could have, this one seems like a good one.

Peace, love and Bridezilla,
Miss Rex

Finals week post 1: Magic!

2010-12-11T00:19:00.009-05:00

It's finals week. I am too busy and exhausted to post anything of substance, and you are too busy and exhausted to read it. So my next few posts will consist of very few words.

Today I have two items of mind-blowing proportions. First, give this a listen. When you get to the bottom I'll tell you what it is.

by Shamantis

To complete your trippy experience, take a look at these crazy magic eye pictures!

From "Brother" (yes, the printer people):

Fixed-width text magic eye picture by Jason Unger:

The most epic thing I've ever found via the Interwebs, by I F F cool:

So that song you've been listening to since you got here? It's "U Smile" by Justin Bieber... 8x slower than the real thing.

Peace, love, and cappuccino,
Miss Rex

Required worship: Check.

2010-12-08T17:31:00.004-05:00

The requirement that Go-Co students attend chapel has been something I've loved and hated about this school. For the better part of three years I bitched and moaned about going, and often with good reason - it was boring, the worship was horrible and fake (how could required worship be authentic?), and the speakers were too conservative for me to relate to.

Oh, we would have the occasional gem: Norm Jones would perform a dramatic monologue or a preacher from an urban church would come shake us up a little bit. But until this year, chapel was something I habitually resented. Sometimes I would try to get something out of it, spiritually or intellectually, but I would almost always walk away frustrated. I came to think of myself not as a Christian but as an agnostic.

I'm not saying things have gotten tons better. My faith is still a fragile thing. But, for the first time in four years, I was actually starting to get something out of going to chapel. Perhaps the number of "Christian life and worship" credits I'd earned didn't reflect that, but I was going twice a week ready to engage (as well as attending Sunday night candlelight worship, which doesn't offer credit), and that was a huge step for me.

Then, halfway through the semester, I had five extra chapel credits tacked onto my requirements, pushing me up to 35 for the semester. Between my night shifts at the writing center, my afternoon classes, and my internship, I literally could not attend afternoon and evening events. I counted, and there were not enough morning chapels left in the semester for me to fulfill the requirement.

They don't stop you from graduating if you don't make all your chapels. As a part-time student next semester, my record will be cleared anyway. But it was the principle of the thing. I asked for a reduction in chapel requirements and was refused.

Suddenly what little motivation I had to attend was replaced by the same familiar resentment that kept me from God over the past few years. The expectation that I, a Christian teetering on the brink of faith, should have to make better than perfect chapel attendance for the rest of the semester was absurd. I determined that the chapel office was run by a slew of heartless bureaucrats with no concept of the Christian concept of mercy.

I almost decided to boycott and start having my own private worship time. After all, the idea of Christian life and worship is to bring you into communion with God, and I could do that just as well on my own. I thought, who the hell are the bureaucrats to tell me whether my Christian life and worship is sufficient? Are they saying I'm only good enough for God if I'm good enough for them? But we are not trying to please men, but God! He is the only one who should be attaching a value to my Christian life and worship.

Well, today I completed my 35th chapel of the semester. I am done. I don't know how I managed it; maybe it was the Thursday night movie screening that I only went to because Skipping Stone had a hand in its production, or the debate on human suffering, or the visiting author whose discourse I had to attend for my writing class. Regardless, I did it, and I think that the victory is as pleasing to God as it is to the chapel office. I at least know that I feel better rounded and spiritually stimulated than I have in past years.

Put that in your censer and smoke it.

Peace, love and truffles,
Miss Rex

Ode to my baby sister

2010-12-07T11:28:00.004-05:00

This weekend I had the enormous privilege of seeing my not-so-baby-anymore baby sister, Jay May, perform in her high school musical.

For reasons beyond comprehension, our clean-cut, suburban, 95% white school chose "The Wiz" for this year's show. And for reasons that I won't go into (cough*nepotism*cough), my brilliantly talented sister was not granted a lead, even though she is a junior and this will be her last high school musical, and therefore by rules of seniority alone she should have trumped some of the leads.

In the realm of talent, it could have been a one girl show as far as I'm concerned. The talent pool just isn't that big at a school as small as that. There were only 120 kids in my graduating class.

That being said, it was one of the better musicals I've seen my high school put on, and Jay May was just... stunning. She was Aunt Em, and she had a solo. The first one in the play. I couldn't believe how grown up she looked and sounded. She was so expressive, so confident. I found out later that she was nervous, but I never would have guessed it from watching her, which I've heard is the mark of a good performer. She hit all the high notes dead on and dipped to reach the low notes just right, too.

It was only after she sang that I realized how long it had been since she let me hear her sing outside of the shower. Years. She's had bit parts in the other musicals she's done in the past few years, and even though I could always pick out her voice, it was nothing like this. I'm so proud of her.

I've also learned that I am going to be a blubbering wreck when my kids grow up.

Peace, love and menthol,
Miss Rex

Excavations of Claymore: Almond Joy (at last!)

2010-12-04T19:15:00.000-05:00

I've been meaning to review this one all semester, but me having Taz's meal card or cash with me never seemed to coincide with Claymore having coconut, almond and chocolate flavor syrups. I had a barista substitute hot cocoa mix once. It was bad, so I decided to hold out on the review until I could get all the witnesses on stand and give the Almond Joy a fair trial.

I'll give it this: The Almond Joy tastes exactly like the candy bar. I had never tried one but, for the sake of research, I accepted one from a classmate's Halloween stash.

It was... okay. Just like the steamer. If you're cuckoo for coconut, then you'll love this drink. If you have an insatiable sweet tooth, even better - you can skip the candy aisle and go for something with real calcium in it! But if you're the kind of person that keeps the mashed potatoes on the opposite side of the plate from the cranberry sauce, might I advise that you also keep your drink and dessert separate in this case.

Peace, love, and pumpkin spice,
Miss Rex

Billy Madison learned the most important thing in high school

2010-12-03T15:30:00.003-05:00

How to BS.

I had never seen Billy Madison until a couple of weeks ago, and that was on purpose. Let me tell you, after it was over I really sympathized with the guy who said "everybody in this room is now dumber for having listened to you."

But Billy Madison learned the most important thing you can learn in high school. It's sad but true: The ability to BS will get you through just about anything in life, or at least the rest of your schooling. I have my theories that it will get you far in the corporate world too, but I have yet to personally test this theory, and I think I will find it easier to be passionate in that world, so perhaps BS will be less necessary than it has been for the past 16 years of my life.

The tragic truth is, students don't have time to be sincere and thoughtful. Even if we had no other work/family/friend/etc. obligations, coursework alone would leave us with too little time for sincerity and thought. So, we get really good at sounding thoughtful as we crank out paper after paper, sometimes spending as little as a single afternoon on a major 8-ish page paper.

I've had teachers throughout the years tell me that it doesn't matter what point you argue as long as you back it up with evidence. By these standards, Billy's blathering about a lost puppy being a symbol for society gets top marks.

And so will my twelve-pager for Communication Theories. Rawr!

Peace, love, and finals,
Miss Rex

tl;dr

2010-11-27T23:54:00.008-05:00

I dreamed I was in my apartment with one of my guy friends, but it was the middle of the night, and our school has a rule that you can't have visitors of the opposite sex in your apartment past a certain hour, so we were blatantly breaking the rules. But no one would have known a thing if my apartment mates (who were not the same as my real life apartment mates) hadn't suddenly brought a party into our living room. A very loud party with girls AND boys.

Of course we got caught. I stepped out of my room to be like "WTF guys?" just in time to get nabbed with the rest of them. But when I told the RD I had no idea why there was a party in my living room, he let me go without saying a word about the friend who'd been in my room. I was so relieved he hadn't noticed. When I got back to my room, they had transformed the living room into an all-out bar (another no-no - we aren't allowed to have booze on campus, nor are we allowed to turn out the lights in mixed company).

Picture from...

A bunch of us went down to the first floor, which is a guys' floor. Apparently it was all right to be down there if we stayed in the main corridor, which was easier said than done since all the walls and doors were gone; the place was transformed into a huge cafeteria. I saw someone I knew and went over to say "hi," but it turned out he was a zombie, so I went back to my other friends. Suddenly we realized we weren't in the main corridor and thus were technically in violation of visiting laws, so we scurried back to safe ground.

Seconds later I got a text. I didn't know who it was from, but whoever sent it said they'd seen what I'd just done and I should turn myself in for it. I couldn't even tell where the corridor turned into restricted territory, and I'd only crossed for a second! Like hell I was turning myself in.

But this person kept hounding me. Every time I looked at a screen, and sometimes just randomly in the air in front of me, his messages would appear. They were always on a grid of hash marks that flickered in and out like the screen was about to die. It had a very creepy feel to it, like this person that I didn't know and never saw was some kind of ghost or demon, or worse yet, a Fight-Club-esque alternate self. My techy friend was trying to help me figure it out, but he was never there to see the messages and I started to get the feeling that he and the sender were actually one and the same.

Picture from...

Next thing I knew I was being held hostage in my bedroom at home. There was a party going on in my back yard, like a birthday party or something with lots of young kids who might have been my mom's piano students. I was standing in my back window looking out, thinking about how far down it was. The grass was so green and soft that I knew I could jump the one story down onto it without getting hurt, and I was about to when I got kidnapped.

Now I'm in the back seat of a car. I don't know where they're taking me, but it can't be good. They are not good people. I am working on a diversion of some kind. I think it involves food. The last thing I remember is preparing to jump out the back door while the car is still in motion...

Good morning, Saturday.

Luckily things only got better as the day went on. I spent the afternoon with JW and his family. They had about 20, 25 people over for Thanksgiving: Round Two - and that was only about 5% of the family tree. It was so fun. Big families are great. Remembering all those names was good mental exercise, too.

Then I drove home to see Adam Ezra playing in the town next door, in fact at the same place we had my post prom party. I went with my daddy, and it was nice to go do something with him, even though he wasn't crazy about the headliner (and I would have to agree that Adam's music is more my type). But I did get to have a good long conversation with Adam that touched on his tour with Enter the Haggis, the band's new album, my finals, my internship, and fantasy literature, especially our mutual love for The Golden Compass and the fact that, unlike a lot of people who say "your book-in-progress sounds interesting, but fantasy's not really my genre," he actually seemed excited to read what I'm working on. We agreed that when he finishes his album and I publish my novel, we'll trade. Cool beans.

Peace, love, and sweet dreams,
Miss Rex

Brewin's of a Mad Barista #1: Crackle Cider

2010-11-26T21:53:00.000-05:00

As an OFFICIAL member of the Claymore crew, I now have the freedom to invent random drinks whenever I feel like it. Oh how I love this job. I wanted to squeeze in my first recommendation while it's still fall because anything based on apple pie goes out of style once winter hits like white pants after Labor Day.

My first mad brewin' is called "Crackle Cider," so named because it is so yummy that it might as well be made of crack. At this time of year, I would think almost any coffee shop should be able to replicate the recipe if you ask. I made a pretty name card for it with lots and lots of glitter glue, but someone took it down, so alas I do not have a picture, only instructions for your own mad brewin'.

To brew Crackle Cider: Start with a cup of hot apple cider, add a shot or so of caramel syrup, sprinkle in cinnamon and nutmeg, and garnish with whipped cream. Drizzle caramel syrup and/or sprinkle cinnamon sugar on top if desired.

It's like a fresh apple pie in a cup. Now some of you may be wary of food-in-a-cup after seeing how the people in Wall-E turned out, but don't let that stop you. It's just this once. It's a special treat. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.

Peace, love and pie,
Miss Rex

These are a few of my favorite things:

2010-11-25T09:36:00.003-05:00

It's Thanksgiving Day, but I won't bore you with an essay of the same things everybody is thankful for today. I have amazing friends and an amazing family and an amazing boyfriend. I have a roof over my head and plenty to eat, I go to a great school, I have a great internship, and I always have something to wear (even when I despair that "I have nothing to wear!").

Of course I'm thankful for those things. But there are a lot of smaller, less cliché things that I am also thankful for, and I think they deserve some recognition. This Thanksgiving, I give thanks for...

Light bulbs.

Forks.
Text messaging.
Candles.
Single stream recycling.
Plungers.
Soy milk (picture from Urban Blah).

Bass guitar.
Flannel.
Scott Westerfeld.
Swiss Miss hot chocolate.
Dirty feet.

Neon Trees.
Tuning forks.
Trippy dreams.
Vodka sauce.
Stickers.

Jalapeños.
Hot showers.
String.
Blue jeans.
Semicolons.
Ear goggles.

What random things are you thankful for today? If anyone says "friends and family," I'm spamming your comments section with pictures of slow lorises!

This post is brought to you by my favorite fingerless gloves.

Peace, love and free-range turkey,
Miss Rex

Excavations of Claymore: Thrilla in Vanilla

2010-11-19T22:25:00.001-05:00

Ladies and gentlemen, after a very long and sad hiatus, I at last bring you the (I hope) dearly missed Excavations of Claymore. We shall begin with the Thrilla in Vanilla, a vanilla and mint latté.

I've never been anything but honest with you folks, and honestly, I was not thrilled with the Thrilla in Vanilla.

I love the name, and I love the flavors in it, and I really really tried to like the drink itself. I even sampled it more than once, made by three different baristas (including myself ^_^). It just isn't a good drink.

Something about the mint highlights the bitterness of the espresso. I realized that all the other drinks I enjoy that have mint in them either use peppermint (as in Starbucks' peppermint mocha), are iced, or don't contain espresso.

When I first started drinking coffee, I always got it with mint because it overpowered the flavor of the espresso. Now, connoisseur that I am, I have learned that it is better to complement the espresso with flavors like Irish Creme. Like the ugly new benches marring Go-Co's lovely campus every few yards or the hulking, enigmatic monument to gravity, the taste of espresso can't be hidden. Luckily it's easier to embrace than ugly benches...

But the Thrilla doesn't embrace. Perhaps it's just my touchy-feely taste buds, but I'm gonna have to give this drink two stars.

Peace, love and eggnog,
Miss Rex

What the radio doesn't know it wants

2010-11-16T10:07:00.004-05:00

Remember how we are all so forward-minded and fashionable around this blog? Well I have another recommendation for you, dear trendsetters. This recommendation goes by the name of 54 Dice.

It's my friend Andrewp's band. Now I'm trusting all you crazy people to know good crazy when you hear it! These guys are experimental and bizarre, yet grounded in classics. By this I mean their foundation rests solidly on guitar, doing well what guitars have done since the days of classic rock, but with innovative interpretations of rhythm, vocals, and harmony vs. discord.

If you're looking for the kind of music the radio doesn't even know it wants yet, be sure to download their free four-song EP! (The website will ask for your email address, but don't worry; Andrewp has personally promised me "no spam!")

Peace, love and sleeping in,
Miss Rex

A Letter to Voldemort

2010-11-11T14:00:00.003-05:00

Dear Voldemort:

Normally I would write to someone nicer about this (perhaps Albus Dumbledore or Sirius Black), but, well, first of all, you've had them both killed, but second (and more importantly), I feel that you have a special kind of expertise in the particular matter that concerns me.

I am speaking of the matter of sinuses. Since you, my dark liege, lack the protection afforded by a traditional protruding nose, I thought perhaps you would know of a spell or potion to combat discomfort or infection of the deep nasal passages. It has been a recurrent problem since the days of my youth; so recurrent, in fact, that I can pinpoint the day it will befall me before I even show symptoms. Precisely 365 days ago Monday, I was hospitalized for an especially brutal case of sinusitis. This Monday, I was forced to retire early by a sharp sinus headache and heavy congestion. I am sorry for the graphic description, although I'm sure my liege has seen worse in his decades of malevolence.

I know that you are very busy being evil, but if you get a chance, I would really appreciate your help in this matter.

Love,
Miss Rex

Why people don't write first-person fantasy books

2010-11-08T18:09:00.004-05:00

When I began work on my current fantasy project, I was eager to be one of the few to write a fantasy saga in the first person. Now I am beginning to see why this is done so rarely.

With fantasy, there's a lot happening at once. Rarely do all of the important characters take the stage at the same time. So, you can either have characters narrate their in-the-meantime stories to the first person narrator upon their reunion, or you can use third person and tell the simultaneous stories more or less simultaneously.

There's also a lot that needs to be explained in fantasy books. When you write a non-fantasy story that takes place in the real world, you can assume your reader knows how things work in that world - he or she lives there! But if you've invented a world, complete with locations, races, religions, cultures, magical rules, politics, and history, it's entirely up to you to make sure your readers know pertinent details.

So your options are to have a really smart first-person narrator who already knows everything, which ruins the adventure by making everything too easy; to have your first-person narrator stumble across information in the form of wizened old sorcerers or mysterious books that reveal information in a conveniently timed fashion (which again makes it seem that things are too easy; the world is helping the character complete this supposedly impossible mission); or to tell your story in the third person, so that you can fill in the details necessary for fleshing out the world and perhaps even create some dramatic irony, which is possible but difficult with first person.

I thought that I would be able to achieve a more distinct and quirky voice for my main character, Anna, by writing in first person, but in fact the more fun and satisfying chapters to read (and to write) have by far been the ones I've done in third person. Somehow Anna has more of a voice when someone else is telling the story for her. Anyway I think she's a little busy combating evil and all that to be giving people a play by play of her adventure. So third person it shall be.

Peace, love and power naps,
Miss Rex

A pirate's life for me

2010-11-08T00:31:00.003-05:00

All right, dear readers. I know you are all forward-minded fashionistas, so I feel it is my duty to bring this exquisite design to your attention.

It was designed by my friend the Hippie and it's eligible to win ten grand, at which point you'll be able to sport this epic yet elegant pirate on your bosom for something in the vicinity of $20. But you gotta give it your love! Cast your vote in the next 24 hours!

By the way, in case you ever wondered what the Hippie looks like, the answer is, he looks like this pirate. Yeah, he's pretty much Johnny Depp and stuff.

Peace, love and 1.5 martinis,
Miss Rex

Claymore.

2010-11-07T14:15:00.003-05:00

Thus concludes my first weekend working at Claymore! Overall it's a pretty sweet gig. I get to make free drinks (well, one free drink per shift), which means Excavations of Claymore are soon to return! In just two nights, I've already created Crackle Cider and the Golden Mocha. At last my creative taste buds can be exercised to their full potential! Soon my tongue will be nice and buff, like Trogdor's beefy arm. Rawr.

It didn't take long for me to learn to make a quality latté. My organizational skills are a little lacking, but that will improve with practice. The only real downside I've seen is that, every so often, you get a psycho on the other side of the counter.

My first night, two other baristas came in partway through my shift, both thinking they were working a double with me. As they were sorting out the schedule, I was working on drinks for a few different people and paused to rinse off some things (because if the next person orders chai, they don't really want residue of hot chocolate in their drink). This girl at the counter loudly demands, "HOW LONG DO I HAVE TO WAIT TO ORDER?"

The other two apologized and told her they were just trying to figure out who was supposed to be there. She said something along the lines of that wasn't her problem and she'd been waiting there for blah blah (she'd only been there for like, three minutes, and there had been two or three people ahead of her).

I politely told her that I could include residue of banana and hazelnut in her order if she'd like to place it right away.

I think this will be my downfall. I don't take shit from people like her; I dish it right back. Hope that's not grounds for unemployment (grounds... ha ha... that's punny, cause I work at a coffee shop... get it? Ha ha...)

The other downside is, I'm gonna have to make it through my 10:30-2AM shift without making myself any coffee, because I was up until 4 this morning even with the time change factored in. But it was a darn good coffee. Soon to be excavated.

Peace, love and third person omniscient,
Miss Rex

Let's pretend we're in 4th grade, OK?

2010-11-07T00:57:00.004-04:00

My internship affords me many wonderful opportunities, one of them being that I can now read books intended for much younger audiences without looking like a lamewad. Secretly I just love middle grade and young adult fiction, but at 21, I'm starting to need excuses that other people will accept as to why I still read high school material. So thank you, Skipping Stone.

Recently I've discovered a marvelous series that begins with a book called "The Name of This Book Is Secret." The second installment is called "If You're Reading This, It's Too Late." I'm about start the third, "This Book Is Not Good for You." I don't care that they were written for nine-year-olds; these books are GREAT!

The tales are quirky and fantastical mysteries full of puzzles and riddles that you can solve right alongside the characters, which is fun EVEN IF you're old like me and have probably heard them all before. And everything in the book is a SECRET, including the setting (that's right, now you HAVE to use your imagination!) Even the author's name, "Pseudonymous Bosch," is a secret. The story itself is so very secret that the narrator continually chickens out, refusing to tell the rest, before bribing himself into carrying on with rewards of cheese and chocolate.

Cass, the pointy-eared heroine, always carries a survival backpack in case of a catastrophe. Max-Ernest, the logical and loquacious hero, lives in a house divided down the middle by his divorced parents, who refuse even to acknowledge each other's presence, let alone cross into the other's half of the house. Guess it's true when they say can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

Together these misfits set out to discover the truth of magician Pietro Bergamo's death, but they quickly get tangled up with the Midnight Sun, a society hell-bent on achieving immortality. At last the two prove themselves worthy of admission to the good guys' secret - I mean Terces - society.

There are a zillion reasons to love this series, but one of my favorites is that it's pretty much all about synaethesia. If you don't know by now, I'm obsessed with this strange condition, which cross-wires your senses so that you can see music or smell numbers or, in this case, see scents. So the Secret series is entertaining AND educational!

If you're a kid, put this on your Christmas list. If you're a parent, sneak it onto the end of your son or daughter's letter to Santa. If you're anybody else, just grab any random kid off the street and start reading to them. It'll look legit, I promise.

Peace, love, and coffee!!!
Miss Rex

Fall Back

2010-11-04T19:49:00.004-04:00

There was frost on the quad the other morning. En route to an early meeting*, I noticed the tree outside the library was shedding leaves so fast that they had pooled around him, leaving a yellow ring at his feet. I had to wonder what the hurry was.

I always think of Robert Frost at this time of year. But it's never the poem you'd expect. I took the road not taken years ago and I walk it every day. Instead, "To Earthward" comes to mind.

On the last warm day we had in October, I took my shoes off to wade in Gull Pond and stretched out to dry on the rough sand, thinking of the poem's ending:

"When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
From leaning on it hard
In grass and sand,

The hurt is not enough:
I long for weight and strength
To feel the earth as rough
To all my length."

Or I think of "The Mending Wall" as I wander the bike trails with JW. Stone walls criss-cross through the woods as they crumble into the realm of the forgotten. They once told someone what land was his and what was not; they may have been the one and only tie between two farmers. I think of Frost and his neighbor, who never spoke except to repair the wall between them, saying "Good walls make good neighbors."

The bleak hour is nigh! Winter doesn't officially start until December 21st, but he's already lurking like a peeping Tom. In a few days, we'll change the clocks and night will fall at 4:00. My epic tan lines have faded, even the ones I got from wearing the same Tevas to camp all season (though I don't think the white bikini outline will ever go away). My allergies are getting worse. My acne is getting worse. Even my goddamn vision is getting worse - I had to switch back to my older, stronger prescription when I realized I couldn't read the slides in chapel anymore.

The time has passed for wading and sunbathing and skinnydipping. There will be no more bare feet and no more hippie dresses. It's a sad prospect.

But at least there's Christmas to look forward to! Now if only I can remember to stay away from shopping malls this year...

Peace, love, and hazelnut mocha,
Miss Rex

*I discovered moments later that the meeting had been canceled... to think I could have continued my 80s-cartoon dream about the Star Princess! Alas and alack!

Solidarity

2010-11-03T18:10:00.005-04:00

Scott Westerfeld is the only author whose entire volume of work is on my "favorite books" list. It all started in sophomore, junior year of high school with a stand-alone book called "So Yesterday" (which apparently you can read in its entirety on Scott's website). I think, though, that Midnighters is my favorite work of his.

Well, anyway. Scott did an interview with Simon and Schuster on UStream last night. He answered questions received by tweet, blog and Facebook. It was enlightening. The question I asked was, "They say there's no such thing as an original idea. How do you come up with something fresh to say & say it in a unique way?"

Scott's answer: “There are obviously original ideas. What there isn’t is new ideas, completely new, and in fact if you came up with a completely new idea, I bet everyone would hate it. Because they wouldn't know what it was. They would be confused and freaked out and I have a feeling they wouldn’t actually like it. All the people who say they want something original, what they really want is something familiar that they already like but with a new twist they’ve never seen before… What you want is one new thing surrounded by many familiar old things.”

It was really thrilling to hear this guy I've looked up to for years talk about his work, and even more so to feel like he was talking to me - author to author. Someday I hope I can do what he's doing and be an inspiration to other young writers.

The whole interview is an hour long, but if you're into cool people doing cool things, steampunk, Manga, Miyazaki, the writing process, vegetarians changing the world, and how smart people plan for zombie apocalypses, check it out!

Peace, love and steampunk,
Miss Rex

No Teabaggin'

2010-11-03T12:38:00.002-04:00

This here's my Silversteinian request that tea bags be put in their proper place in the apartment. Yes, I have found them in all of the places named in the poem. Except the trash. In all fairness, they might appear there on occasion; I would not know, for I do not root through our trash. That's Garby's job. Garby is the imaginary dog Mnomanoms and I plan to adopt to be our garbage disposal, since at present there is no standard operating procedure for compostable materials....

You know, someone told me today that 80% of what people say is miscellaneous rambling. I would have to agree with this stat.

Peace, love, and Leviathan (more on that laters!),
Miss Rex

Bird!

2010-11-02T14:32:00.005-04:00

I woke up from a crazy dream this morning. First I was on a long bus ride from an Italian airport, trying to get to Assisi. My family and roommate were there. Suddenly it was time for us to get off, but I wasn't ready and my shoes were off. I tried to put on my Chucks and found a teabag in one of them. Surely this reflects the number of random teabags sitting out to dry in my apartment (although this situation has improved since I posted a poem called "No Teabaggin'" over our trash can... will post photos later).

Then I was in a posh hotel room with two king-size beds and a whole wall of windows. The decor was mod, mostly reds, blacks and whites. My mom and grandma were there, trying to decide what to order from the hotel's in-house restaurant. I finally convinced them that we'd be better off taking a walk and seeing what was in the area. I checked Facebook to see if my Italian beau would be available for a visit, but he was in Canada.

Next thing I knew I was on the roof with my mom. In the distance I saw an enormous black bird (think Howl in Howl's Moving Castle, except bigger, and not a big softie at heart). The sight of him gave me chills.

Suddenly the bird attacked us, fast as a flying arrow. We battled her up and down the gables and precipices of a spooky old castle and finally warded her off long enough for my mom to say, "Well. You have some really f*d up friends."

The bird was coming back, but my alarm went off before the final showdown... alas.

I need to start blogging again. I told myself I'd keep up with Claymore reviews, but they never have any flavors when I go. Tis a sad state of affairs. But the happy state of affairs is that I will be a barista there come Friday! THEN I shall have flavors! *Insert maniacal laughter here*

The other reason I haven't been around (well, one of many) is that, when I'm not in class, at Skipping Stone, doing homework or working at the writing center, I'm putting all of my creative energy into my novel. Next semester I'll be a part-time student, and both of my classes will allow (in fact, they will require) that I work on my book ALL THE TIME. So I'll probably finish it by summer. And maybe have time for blogging in between.

Then, on to the headache that is publishing! I am blessed to be at Skipping Stone, where our director of publishing has agreed to look over my work and point me in the right direction, whether that be to an agent or editor or publishing house (she has connections with HarperCollins and Penguin... not to mention, Skipping Stone itself publishes YA fiction). I have high hopes, dear friends, that you will be able to hold a copy of Before the Empty Moon in your very hands in the semi-near future!

And now, before your boredom degrades into full-out unconsciousness, I bid thee adieu!

Peace, love and toilet paper,
Miss Rex

Anniversaries

2010-10-16T08:48:00.002-04:00

Today, is an anniversary. First of all it's my parents' anniversary (and, crazy kooks that they are, they're taking me and JW out to dinner... this somehow seems backwards, but who am I, a hungry and broke college student, to complain?).

The popular thing to do these days seems to be divorce. When there's a hitch in the going, the hitched get going, or something like that. Contrariwise, my mom and dad have stayed together through thick and thin, and I admire that.

But their anniversary is not the only one I'm celebrating today. I'm also celebrating my own anniversary, the anniversary of my freedom from my last crap-tastic relationship. I guess it was kind of selfish of me to get dumped on my parents special day, huh? But alas that is how it happened.

I thank that breakup for reminding me how to love God school, for getting me into Adam Ezra Group, for making it permissible to sneak out of monasteries to make out with Italian boys in the middle of the night, and for scaring me into working seriously on my novel (I'm scared to end up like that).

I thank that breakup for acting as foil to the relationship I have now. Without knowing the worst, I would have no idea I'd stumbled upon the best (or been stumbled upon by the best, as the case may be). The most I could muster would be a half-appreciation. JW deserves better than that.

I thank that breakup for re-defining and re-outlining who I am. I'm not your average Christian, but I'm feeling close to God for a change, and I sure couldn't say that last October.

I think we celebrate a lot of frivolous things in our culture (half birthdays, national kids day, etc.), but this isn't one of them. You can celebrate an ending as much as you can a beginning. After all, as Semisonic said many a year ago in the song Closing Time, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."

Peace, love and apple cider,
Miss Rex

Flashy flash flash

2010-10-11T19:53:00.002-04:00

When I was 11, I got my first laptop. Yeah, I know: Spoiled. But I WAS in the middle of writing a novel; I suppose my parents justified it as their contribution to my child prodigism.

Not long after that, I got my first flash drive. This was back when flash drives were first invented and held, like, 256 megabytes of info (read: not a lot). It was always a hassle plugging it into the USB ports in school computers because the ports were set back farther than my drive would plug in.

But you know what? I'm still carrying that thing around, something like eight years later. I've had other flash drives along the way, but they always seem to disappear. Maybe I've kept track of this one because it's so big and ugly and useless.

Suffice to say, it is time to buy a new flash drive. One that holds more data. One that looks... cool.

For the days I'm feeling classy:

For the days I'm feeling kawaii:

For the days I'm feeling vintage:

For the days I'm feeling witty:

For the days I'm feeling rude:

For the days I'm feeling geeky:

For the days I'm feeling badass:

In my endless quest for epic, it seems pretty clear to me that I should go for the one that can simultaneously house my fantasy novel AND light things on fire.

Not to mention, I won't be able to afford a SWAROVSKI flash drive until AFTER said novel makes me sickeningly rich and famous. (Dreaming big is good, right?)

Peace, love and gigabytes,
Miss Rex

Another end-of-the-world story

2010-10-04T22:37:00.003-04:00

The end of the world didn’t come the way everyone expected it to, and Ravenna was the only one to realize what was happening. She sat in the cupola of her hilltop house and watched as the stars lined up behind the moon, single file like a gaggle of goslings behind their mother, and as the ocean drew back and back and back as if the Atlantic was baring its teeth before sic’ing. It was only a matter of time, she thought, before everything would end, and since there was nothing to be done about it, she simply sat and watched.

But dawn showed up anyway. The sun, rising in the south, must have missed the memo that the world was over and he could go on his way now; the Earth no longer needed him. Ravenna did the only thing she could think to do, what was the thing she always did: she got ready for work and rode her bike out to the atrium.

Her boss was nowhere to be found, nor were the animals she always tended. It seemed her charges must have known what was coming and fled, trampling the flora as they went.

Ravenna wandered the grounds and found nothing but yesterday’s traces of life. Nothing moved, nothing twittered, nothing scurried into the bushes.

That was when it dawned on her that she hadn’t seen a single car on the road that morning. Suddenly panicked, she leapt back onto her bicycle and rode until her legs couldn’t pedal anymore, through the business district, to the harbor, down the coast on the wrong side of the Jersey barrier. There wasn’t a moving car on the street.

She finally arrived at her old house. The family car was still there, but her family was gone.

A balmy breeze swept through the yard, though New England was waist-deep in November. Ravenna could only shiver in response. The world had ended, all right, and she’d been left behind.

-----------------------------

I wrote this a few weeks ago as an exercise for my class and forgot to post it. Thoughts? Comments? A simple Like or Unlike?

Peace, love and California dreamin',
Miss Rex

Excavations of Claymore: Cooney Cooney

2010-10-03T12:25:00.004-04:00

Rich. Dark. Handsome. What's not to love?

This is a coffee-lover's coffee. There's no sweet, spicy, or minty masking of what's in the mug; it tastes like what it is. It's good, honest coffee. Flannery O'Connor was the first to say that a good coffee is hard to find, but tonight we can call off the search: It's been found.

Cooney Cooney's bitterness may bite, but luckily he's a smooth talker. The drink's creamy overtone softens the taste without sugarcoating it, just like a good writer's workshop. It all evens out to a rich, earthy experience. Dark, yes, but even the land of Oz had its dark places, and you can be sure that was magical.

Take it from a girl who likes her milk and sugar with a smidge of coffee: This drink is bomb.

Peace, love and procrastination,
Miss Rex

-----------------------------
As you can see, Excavations of Claymore have returned! Thanks, Michael, for demonstrating that the baristas do indeed have their shit together. At least some of them...

It's time to cast your vote for the next drink of the week. There are only a few left! After that we will venture together into the great unknown! I.e. I will let you all list random flavors, throw them together in a drink and see what happens.

Almond Joy
Cocoa-nut Island
English Challenge
Prickly Cactus
Thrilla in Vanilla

Highlights

2010-09-28T20:46:00.004-04:00

If you've been wondering "Where's Miss Rex?" the answer actually ISN'T school this time. I mean, I've BEEN at school, but I haven't been without free time. I'm only taking twelve credits this semester. Granted, I'm balancing an internship, my job at the writing center, a fiction writing class, the communication theory class from hell, and a relationship, but I am not without free time.

I am just choosing to spend it away from the dear old blog.

All of my creative energy right now is funneling into one place: My novel. I am determined to finish a FULL draft by graduation in May, or maybe even by Christmas now that I've had this conversation with my supervisor at Skipping Stone Media:

Eramer: You should definitely see [movie I shamefully hadn't seen]. It's directed by [director whose name I didn't know].
Me: *Blank stare*
Eramer: It's got [actor whose name I'd heard but whose face I would never recognize].
Me: All right, I don't know my directors or actors at all. Sorry. I've always been a book person.
Eramer: Hah. I'm a movie guy. I don't read books.
Me: (Thinking: but you run a publishing company...) Out loud: Well you should. Would you read a book if I wrote it?
Eramer: Sure. Of course I would. But I would rather publish it.

So you see? I've got myself a deal now. It's practically in writing and everything. Now all I need is the manuscript.

Actually, I have many a tale from the internship, so I guess that's what this post is going to be about now.

My first day, I spent the morning brainstorming ideas for the website. Alone. I am the only intern on site from 9-1 on Tuesdays. Then Eramer comes in and drops a stack of green paper about two inches thick on my desk. "I know you really want to read this, so... just go ahead. Have fun."

It's the script for the new Narnia movie. I practically pee my pants with excitement. I'm told I will be guillotined if I leave a page lying around anywhere but the office. There's a fake title page, just to throw people off in case I don't heed the guillotine threat and leave the thing lying around on some table in a food court somewhere.

I'm pretty sure that would be about the same as leaving the Hope Diamond on a food court table somewhere.

On to the next story. What, you think I'm going to tell you about the script? I value my neck, thanks. So on to the next story.

I showed up the next Tuesday about twenty minutes before Eramer or anyone else. When he got there, he let us in and started unpacking at his desk while I got the TVs in the lobby going. Then Eramer started laughing. "Hey, can I share a moment with you?" he said, poking his head out of his "office." "Look at what my daughter did." He showed me his briefcase. It was full of his little daughter's Mickey Mouse and Cookie Monster toys.

Someday I will have a kid that cute.

Nothing especially funny happened today, except that I got chastised for being the only intern not wearing purple. This is ironic because, as a general rule, I am more likely to wear purple than the average person. I may show up in my purple jeans on Thursday... that will show them.

Peace, love and GaGa,
Miss Rex

P.S. Claymore Drink of the Week coming soon! I'm waiting for the baristas to get their shit together. Right now Kenya's the only one who seems to know what's what, and I don't drink coffee at the hours he works.

Now I know what Mom went through

2010-09-19T02:51:00.007-04:00

If you ever want to know what your mother went through when you were a teenager, try losing your roommate.

As crazy as she is, Taz is a creature of habit. She goes to bed early, gets up early. She hangs out with boys but won't let them touch her. She's random, but not reckless. JW, Jo Yo and I invited her to come see Adam Ezra Group with us tonight, but she declined on the grounds that her sleeping pattern had had a rough week and she wanted to get to bed early.

She made plans to watch an Adam Sandler movie with Abs, one of JW's apartment mates who she might be crushing on a little bit. Last I saw her she was vacuuming our living room in anticipation of his arrival, which was not at all extravagant for her - she goes all out for her boys. She will make a wonderful girlfriend when she finds the right dude.

Fast forward.

Went to the show. Paid three times more than we should've for parking because there was an event at the Agganis Arena next door. Lost tickets, found Rob (bassist), got new tickets for free. Got deafened and danced upon. Didn't stick around for drinks because the show went so long that last call was already over by the time we got out. Came home at 2:10AM to an empty room.

I was just going to go to sleep when it struck me how very odd it was that Taz was still out. It would have been less odd if she hadn't specifically said she wanted to go to bed early... but it still would have worried me. So I did what my mother always taught me I should do at at time like this.

I panicked.

Cue frantic phone calls, texts to JW asking if Abs was in the apartment (his light was off and JW was worried he'd wake up the roomie, so we never did find out), midnight wake-up call for Mnomanoms, and (half an hour later) a last-ditch effort sprint to the dining hall. I expected Lane to be closed at such an hour, but it was the last place Taz had told anyone she would be and the last place I could get into without a key to search for her.

It was open. This was the first time I've ever looked at our dining hall as a beacon of hope, and will most likely be the last. Sure enough I found Taz and Abs sitting on a couch downstairs, just talking. Taz was quick to point out that my fly was down. I was quick to point out that I'd been halfway into my PJs before the notion struck me that she was probably floating face down in Coy Pond and I had better go find her.

So, Mom, this post is for you. For the random times I didn't make it home when I said I would, or somehow failed to communicate what time I would actually be home, and for all the times I was over friends' houses with no cell phone reception (which was usually, because everyone I know lives in dead zones)... I'm sorry.

Peace, love, and undead roomies,
Miss Rex

Cheap thrills

2010-09-15T11:47:00.005-04:00

I've always loved carnivals, especially at night. I love the atmosphere, with its chatter and sparkle; I love the smell, between the fried dough, fried potatoes, and fried sugar (also known as cotton candy); I love the competitive spirit drawn out by the games and the wide array of people you find there and the romance of it all. I know it's not all magic and innocence, but if you pay no attention to the carnies behind the curtain, you can imagine it is...

Best of all I've always loved the rides, from the little dragon roller coaster, spinning swings, and Crazy Bus I rode as a kid to the flying pirate ship and the circling hang glider I grew to love as a teen. Really the only one I DIDN'T love was the Ferris wheel, and that was only because I never had a boy to kiss at the top.

But there were a few things I'd never tried. I remember passing on rides like the Zipper and the Kamikaze because none of my friends wanted to try them or blaming it on the long lines. I think I was secretly just a wimp.

JW and I spent most of last weekend at the fair in his hometown and I decided there was no time like the present to give those crazy rides a spin (pun intended). After all, soon I'll be grown up and then I will be boring and get motion sickness from carnival rides and have to miss out on all the fun.

We warmed up with the hang gliders. It was worth how dizzy we felt afterward for those few minutes of soaring. There is nothing I would love more than the ability to fly.

Once the spins went away, we tried the Zero Gravity ride, which is the one that spins around so fast that centripetal force pins you to the wall. You'd think we would have passed on this one after getting dizzy from the glider, but our sense of logic isn't as strong as our adventurelust.

And so I found myself standing in a little cubicle the width of my shoulders with a little cloth harness buckled loosely in front of me, as if I would need that once the centripetal force kicked in.

It was the strangest predicament, being unable to move my head at all. When the ride stopped, I didn't feel all that dizzy... just like my brain was all squished toward the back of my skull.

After that we tried the Orbiter. It has six arms protruding from a center point (imagine a Daddy long legs). At the end of each leg is a group of seats arranged in an X. When the ride starts, the X spins around the end of the leg and the legs spin around the center point. It felt so odd that I couldn't help laughing throughout the ride, but I wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere when it was over. That one made me dizzy.

After that, we called it quits on the rides for the night (though not, of course, without the obligatory top-of-the-Ferris-wheel kiss ^_^).

But we came back the next day. With a vengeance. There was one ride we had yet to tackle: The Air Force 1 (also known as the Fireball, Afterburner, or Freak Out).

Like the Orbiter, the Air Force 1 has a spinning segment at the end of a long leg, but in this case there's only one leg and it swings back and forth like a pendulum. At the climax, you're nearly upside down.

This was by far the best ride we tried all weekend. Neither of us felt sick or dizzy afterward - just exhilarated. Now I feel brave enough to tackle the scariest rides of all... even the Zipper or the Kamikaze.

What's your favorite carnival ride? Which one are you afraid to try?

Peace, love and cheap thrills,
Miss Rex

Chapstick, Chapped Lips, and Things Like Chemistry

2010-09-14T00:05:00.001-04:00

On my way back from chapel this morning, I caught JW on his way to class and said hi. Like any good girlfriend I gave him a hug and a kiss and said I'd see him later.

Not two minutes went by and I got a text saying, "Put on chapstick. I just took half a stick from you :)"

I smiled; JW always notices and pokes fun at me when I'm wearing Chapstick. Secretly, I sometimes use the mentholated kind on purpose because he's so cute when he can't figure out why his lips are tingling. But it made me wonder - what is it with me and Chapstick? I've had this crazy obsession with it for as long as I can remember. I keep three sticks of it in my purse at all times.

And I'm not even as bad as I used to be. I used to refuse to go to sleep without putting some on because (in the words of the monstrously over-quoted Napoleon Dynamite) "my lips hurt real bad."

Which has led to some interesting developments. Ravin and TPO will remember the first time Ex slept at my house, which was before we were together - in fact, it was the first time we'd even really hung out. The four of us were going to stay up all night but Ex and I got tired and decided to go to sleep. My lips were dry, so I put on lip balm, and BAM! Make-out sesh.

I really did want to sleep that night, too.

I think that was when I learned that you shouldn't put nice-tasting things on your lips if you don't want someone else trying to taste it, no matter how bad your lips hurt. Dammit, Ex. This is why we can't have nice things.

Even before that, at the beginning of college, I did a twelve-day orientation/survival stint in the woods sans soap, shampoo, and deodorant. I brought mentholated lip balm and all week long I just kept saying that it was the only luxury I had in the world. I would put it on and smack my lips and go "mmmm...."

I've thought about it all day, and I've come to the conclusion that Relient K is to blame for everything. Their 2003 album "Two Lefts Don't Make a Right (but Three Do)" was the first album I remember falling in love with. And track number one was all about - you guessed it - Chapstick.

They're also to blame for my subsequent obsessions with mood rings (track two), the 80's (track five), speaking in gibberish (track 13), Canadians (their lead singer hails from the great white north), and boys in plaid (said lead singer also wears plaid 95% of the time).

It's good to know that the things you love as a teen will affect you for the rest of your life.

Peace, love, and good-night sleep-tight don't-let-the-bedbugs-bite,
Miss Rex

Threehundredthpostapalooza!

2010-09-06T14:33:00.007-04:00

Today my blog turns Old. It's the big three-oh-oh for A Silvertongued Serenade. If the Internet could eat a cake, Silvertongue's would probably look like this:

But the Internet can't eat cake, so instead I made my very first video blog ever! Come take a virtual tour of my apartment, a.k.a. The Fishbowl II (fondly named after the Fishbowl we lived in last year).

Fan-freaking-tabulous it is not, but it is very orange and blue, which surely counts for something.

Peace, love and vinyl,
Miss Rex

"You're waiting for a train...."

2010-09-04T10:30:00.005-04:00

Last night JW and I were talking about my book, which led to the topic of dreams, which led to the topic of lucid dreaming. I've done it a little bit but I've never used any of the techniques they say can make it work other than doing reality checks. We both decided to try it.

I was trying a technique called Nap Induced Lucid Dreaming. You wake up after 6 hours of sleep, stay up for about an hour, and then go back to sleep. I also did a dozen reality checks when I went to sleep and again when I woke up, and a third time right before the nap. But then I couldn't fall back asleep.

I was about to give up, especially because some asshole outside of my window kept yelling shit. I thought that I swore, got up and was leaning on the bedpost, looking out the window to see who it was while complaining to Taz about him being a jerk. But this was in fact a dream.

Then I was lying in bed again without any transition between the two, but it didn't strike me as strange that I had gotten back into bed without moving and I still thought I was awake.

The asshole yelled outside again and I decided to get my really noisy fan and station it next to my head to drown him out, but I couldn't move at all. It was a familiar feeling: I'm lying there with no power to move, and this icky tingling spreads all through my body, and I hate it. It used to happen all the time and I thought demons were besetting me.

Now I know it's just sleep paralysis and there's nothing to fear (although considering I was already dreaming, who knows if this was real paralysis or dreamed paralysis?).

So I talked myself through it. I said, you're finally falling asleep, and you already know it - you're not even dreaming yet. It's just sleep paralysis. You're all right. It's just paralysis. Be calm.

And I was. The tingling was the most unpleasant on my neck so I tried to move my chin and ended up wiggling my tongue, breaking the paralysis.

There was nothing in my dream when I got there. I remembered picking a dream destination but couldn't recall what it had been. The moon? I read about someone going there, but it wasn't where I was going. Then I remembered: rough stone walls. I thought about it last night and drooled at the prospect of going back to Italy in full lucid-dream detail.

At once I was hovering over the castle-capped hill that is Assisi. I had done it! I believed myself to be in a very light, very fragile sleep and decided the world around me needed more detail to suck me deeper in, away from the yelling asshole.

As I drifted over the hill, I could hear myself narrating. It was nighttime and there was a car parked at the top of the hill near the castle. I knew who was in it. It was me and the guy I had a fling with while I was there in real life.

There was daylight on the other side of the hill. The narrating faded away now that I had truly placed myself in the setting. But everything was sideways, and this was when I became aware that I was floating rather than watching a movie in IMAX. For some reason I'd fallen into the dream sideways.

I righted myself and surveyed the scene. It was not as green as I wanted. In fact, it was kind of industrial and dreary. Lots of dingy brown. In the distance was a stack of red numbers that said 10:26 sideways (with the 1 on bottom). It occurred to me that it might be my alarm clock and again I felt the fragile nature of the dream. I remembered reading about spinning to keep yourself engaged in a dream, so I did a barrel roll. It worked... for a second.

Then the asshole outside yelled again, and it all melted away. I realized that the numbers HAD been my alarm clock - it was now 10:27 - and the dreary colors were the side of my desk and the radiator; I'd had my eyes open the whole time. The reason the dream looked sideways at first was because it WAS sideways; I was lying down.

I wanted to go back to Italy, but I was wide awake. So I cursed the yeller for real this time and got up, and here I am. If I find out who that was, I'm going completely menstrual on him.

Peace, love, and track meets on the quad even though we HAVE a track that is far, far away from my window,
Miss Rex

Might as well jump

2010-09-03T11:43:00.007-04:00

I confess I don't usually pay attention when other people post playlists in their blogs. Whether it's because I'm at work with no headphones or my music wish list has grown unmanageably long or I've never heard of any of the artists, I just don't.

But I'm posting one anyway. Why, you ask?

I'm not posting this to make you listen to or download these songs (although all come highly recommended). I'm posting it because it's funny. Lady GaGa next to UnderOath next to Van Halen. That's funny. Gosh darn I love my musical ADD.

However, if you're battening down the hatches in wait for Hurricane Earl and need some tunes to keep you company, might I point you toward "Oh, It Is Love" by Hellogoodbye and "Lisztomania" by Phoenix. Might I also point out that it does not matter where you park, because even if a falling tree doesn't hit your car, a cow probably will (words of wisdom from Poppa Rex).

Peace, love, and like a rhino,
Miss Rex

Reasons to love Facebook

2010-09-02T12:14:00.006-04:00

1. Advertisements.

I try to ignore advertisements on most websites, but every so often I stumble across a Facebook ad that is pure gold.

I'm not sure what I posted that made them think I needed help being a parent, but I can assure you that baby Rex will not be coming along for a while yet.

I understand WHY I got this ad. I just don't understand who thought they could attract writers with that kind of grammar and unprofessional formatting.

2. Translation.
Ever since I got back from Italy, my Facebook has been in Italian. For a while it was because I wanted to learn the language. Now it's just because I'm too lazy to switch it back. Plus, I enjoy seeing other people's confusion when I check my Facebook on their computers and leave the log-in page in another language.

Translation fail.

3. Glitches.

Virtual anarchy: If the system messes with us, we'll mess with the system!

4. Every so often, someone amazing posts something life-changing, like this picture Ravin took of a real-life Caterpie:

Compare to:

POKÉMON DO EXIST!!!

Peace, love, and sleeping until lunchtime,
Miss Rex

Wrecking Ball

2010-09-01T18:47:00.004-04:00

Stealing is bad... except when you're a writer.

For my fiction writing class, I had to develop a story from a stolen first line. Mine came from Ursula K. Le Guin.

"Wrecking Ball"

Worms shot like subway trains through the dirt of gardens, among the writhing roots of roses, while swallows shot like fighter jets through the dazzling digits of daylight and while minnows shot like brown bullets through the plishing plashing pool and while a tiny gray rodent shot like a wine cork through the undergrowth, not quite invisible to the hawk that shot like a wrecking ball through the canopy.

But there were no subway trains.

At that time there were no fighter jets, no bullets, no corks or wine, no wrecking balls. The worms simply did as worms did, which was all that worms knew how to do, and centuries later when subway cars came along one of them had the bright idea to impersonate a worm.

And one day when there was a war to be fought, someone thought it might be useful if people could shoot around the sky like swallows and they armed themselves with bullets that cut right through the sky like airborne minnows.

When someone learned that the nectar of grapes could be fermented and was good for making the head spin, they bottled it up and decided to stopper it with a little round porous thing that would shoot out of the bottleneck like a doomed rodent.

But at that time there was nothing like a wrecking ball. There were humans, but back then it wasn’t the same thing. Besides, there were only two of them, and they were at peace with the worms and the swallows and the minnows and the mice, and even the thrashing, crashing, swooping, scooping hawk.

They were like twin towers, the man and the woman, tall and sparkling side by side for each other and for the world and for God.

------------------------

I'm coming up on my 300th post here at Blogger! How to celebrate? I'd love to bake you all a fabulous yellow loaf of banana bread, but since I can't figure out how to upload baked goods I'll have to come up with something else. How would you, my readers (if you are still out there, you non-commenting worm-toed ninnymuffins, you), like to celebrate Post #300?

Peace, love, and Claymore (which tragically refuses to open),
Miss Rex

It was nice, knowing everything there was to know.

2010-08-31T20:57:00.004-04:00

Senior year of high school, my present writing voice began to emerge.

I finally accepted who I was and where I stood in the social structure - completely.

I had a lot to say about the topic I knew least about: love.

I became a passionate person. I was passionately Christian, passionately angry at a lot of people for a lot of reasons, passionately counter-culture, and even passionately confused.

So I guess not a lot has changed. I'm just passionate about different issues, or the same issues but from different angles.

Words from my seventeen-year-old self:

ON FRIENDS:

Ravin said i had big feet, so Ash decided to try on my shoes, so i stole his, and then i drove him home, and when i pulled into my garage, i looked down and realized..... that i was STILL WEARING his shoes. i mean, they felt EXACTLY LIKE my shoes but on a slightly larger scale. which makes sense, because i HAVE the exact same shoes on a slightly smaller scale.

i know that there are some of you who... attempted to make me "tall and stout" one year because you didnt think i could look fat, but you know what, i have just one word for you..... snowgear.

Kim gave me pocky and koalas. i love kim.

saturday night after the semi, we went to shaws with Ravin and Lonewlf to get juicy juice, and Lonewlf comes running up to us with a huge package of pads and goes, "LOOK! TAMPONS!" and we had to explain that those weren't tampons.

i escaped to the kitchen to call Ash and ask him about his koto, which was in my house for half a week and i never told him about.

i told [Erny] i was ryan ross, who is really a member of panic! at the disco... little did she know that Wanda and i invented ryan ross the sophomore and were really referring to her sister the whole time.

Lonewlf decided to wear his "hot pants" and nothing else. Lonewlf's hot pants are a pair of girl jeans cut so short that you can see the ends of his boxers poking out at the bottom... [then he] pretended my emergency blanket was a cape. now i have to wash it because it has been on his mostly naked body.

ON PARENTS:

EVERYBODY says that about their parents, and I usually think theyre just exaggerating, but Im telling you, the guy is a total kangaroo.

on friday night, my mom and i frolicked in the church parking lot.

ON RELATIONSHIPS:

It all began with "…two North Dakota… three North Dakota…" in the darkroom.

i dont know. one minute we were talking about werewolves, and the next, he invited me to the prom.

I hate the way dudes just throw "I love you" around like beer in a mosh pit... If youve been dating somebody for a month, two months, in cara's case five days, or even a year or two, YOU DO NOT LOVE THEM. Okay? You dont. [Author's note: JW has proven me wrong on this point. Nuff said.]

Ash tried to be the psychologist and told me that i'm just jealous because i think i'm going to be lonely forever.

there are a heck of a lot of things i could do that i would regret more than not doing them, if that made any sense at all. but of course it didnt, because nothing makes sense anymore, and it feels like nothing will ever make sense again.

it's like happy rainbows are coming out my ears or something.

ON ART:

i'm sure there's an actual word for fear of hot glue guns. i mean there is a word for "fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one's mouth." there's got to be one for glue guns.

[there was a photo] of a kid with a skateboard gazing contemplatively at artwork hanging on a wall. the picture he's looking at is of a hawk, and i insisted it was a reference to tony hawk and how the kid wanted to be just like him. my grandma didnt get it, but i dont think she knows the first thing about tony hawk anyway.

bar chords kill my wrist, which i think is related to the fact that my thumb is not really opposable. i hate my thumbs so much. i swear, one of these days i'm just going to shut it in a car door or something and hope that when it heals from being broken, it will be weirdly bent into a much less awkward position than.... whatever weird shape it is now.

please pardon my logorrhea.

i tend to have epic dreams when i sleep on my stomach... last night/this morning, i got the second half of a dream that inspired me to write a story, which i stopped writing because i didnt know where to go with it, but now i have a better sense of direction, so maybe i can get working on that. [Author's note: This dream, from an entry dated 2006, was the foundation for Before the Empty Moon. Yep, STILL working on that.]

ON SOCIAL GATHERINGS:

they have a mario kart tourney..... funniest thing since sliced bread.......

good goobers, maybe it's happened to me! -what they always say about kids getting addicted to the internet!! and myspace!!!

On our way to the club, this guy in girl pants pointed at my relient k shirt and got all excited and yelled "you're going to the relient k concert! Yay!" or something, and I just sort of watched his little outburst with internalized amusement and continued eating my ice cream like "hello, can't you see i'm busy here?"

i told the bride "happy wedding" (DDR reference, b/c i'm a dork), and when the pastor started speaking, all i could think of was the guy in the princess bride.

ON BABYSITTING:

i really have corrupted the girl i babysat for on saturday. i taught her the meaning of emo, and now she gives me weekly reports on how many emo kids she's counted.

the boy would not go to bed, and finally i said, "all right. i'll read to you some more. let me go find a book." and went and got my systematic theology book, thinking, "this will put him RIGHT to sleep." not so. that rebel child had me read ten pages of impossible-to-pronounce names and titles before he finally conked out.

trust me to deal with flying shards of flaming glass with "LET'S EAT ICE CREAM!"

ON HIGH SCHOOL IN GENERAL:

i'm so used to being on the fringes of the social structure that i can tell everyone i dont care if they reject me, but of course i do. nobody wants to be rejected.

Wanda and I sat on the floor during lunch again.

i used to come home in tears because i couldnt understand why nobody understood me. my word, i was emo all the way back in second grade. i should have known it was hopeless.

I was ignored, as usual. I should just not bother talking, ever.

Let's face it. Just like everything else about school this year, spirit week and homecoming are going to suck. But you know what? I'M GOING TO BE A PIRATE ANYWAY. AND I'M GOING TO WEAR MY 80S SHIRT ON 70S DAY. AND I'M ADDING A NEW SUPERLATIVE CATEGORY FOR MYSELF: Most Likely to Instigate Revolution. Take that, CHS.

today was so long that i looked down at my shirt this afternoon and thought, "mandii, you scrub, you wore the same shirt two days in a row," and then realized that it was still the same day.

never be too "cool" to be a fool or too "old" to be bold. those are lame excuses for thinking small.

i am sick and tired of putting up with the other editors in my independent study, one of whom does not even have authority of any sort over me except in her imagination where she dominates the world because she thinks she is that smart and talented and special.

BRENDON URIE came over and inspected the hot water pots, to no avail, obviously, since they were empty. And then I realized that he had a big Styrofoam cup of ramen in his hand, just like me, and I had to stifle a laugh. Poor kid. He's fueled by ramen, but apparently not today.

eating is so strange. i mean, think about it. theres something in front of you, and then you put it into this big hole in your face and mash it all up, and suddenly it isnt there anymore.

your self-help forum says, "go play in traffic." thank you, and have an EMO DAY.

yesterday was "Senior skip day." needless to say, i went to school and skipped through the halls with my friends and sang, "senior skip day! senior skip day!" everywhere i went.

Peace, love, and reliving the not-so-golden years,
Miss Rex

While the rest of the world worries about acid rain...

2010-08-30T18:01:00.006-04:00

One of the best and worst things about living in an apartment is cooking for yourself. On the one hand, there was rarely anything in the dining hall that was both vegetarian and appetizing, but on the other hand... well, let's just say my cooking skills are... rudimentary.

I've been using a lot of Parmesan cheese. It's great for the obvious (pasta), but also on summer squash or with garlic and crushed red peppers in olive oil as a dip for bread.

JW and Cripple were over at dinnertime the other evening and I offered to make pasta. Everything went fine until someone reminded me we needed cheese. I noticed the granules had clumped together to form a huge ball of Parmesan and started to shake the container.

Next thing I knew it was raining cheese.

I guess the lid wasn't shut very tightly. The worst part is that it was probably me who failed to shut it in the first place, since I use sprinkle cheese way more than anyone else around here. D'oh.

Peace, love and Parmesan rain,
Miss Rex

Sophomore Slump --> Comeback of the Year

2010-08-29T00:18:00.000-04:00

I just found out that the website that hosted my OLDEST oldest blog, I mean the one I had even pre-MySpace, is now a website for porn. Which is really sad because I want to see the kinds of things I was writing in middle school and freshman year, although I'm pretty sure it was just more of the same hyperactive drivel and nothing of actual importance.

But to continue with my perusal of my past, we are on to junior year of high school, at which point some kind soul taught me to use the Enter key or MySpace improved their formatting to encompass spaces between paragraphs.

Things of note in junior year:

1. Obsession with bands, especially Relient K, continued.

2. While maintaining a facade of hyperactivity, I managed to get pretty down on myself, which isn't reflected in the quotes I'm posting here, or even really in the old blog. But I caught whiffs of it: brief references to being down or depressed or emo or wondering what's wrong with myself. I only ever quoted really depressing lyrics. And those whiffs reminded me of some of the circumstances and emotions that brought them about, and suffice to say that I just wasn't a very happy person as a junior. I remember Erny later telling me that she was worried about me that year. But I was happy when I was playing guitar.

3. I craved attention. A bunch of my posts mentioned some guys in my gym class/creative writing class who called me "Girl" because they couldn't be bothered to find out my real name, and even that was something I thrived on. I started to feel inadequate over the fact that no guys ever seemed to be romantically interested in me, either at school or at church.

4. I thought EVERYTHING was SCANDALOUS. Oh how things have changed. Penis.

----------------------

so this really cool guy at my youth group, yeah he's really rad and stuff and stuff and yeah, and i might be going to see switchfoot with him! switchfoot, who i love as much as i love relient k! with him! switchfoot! with him!

wow. that was an exceptionally long rant about virtually nothing. i hope you didnt actually read it. but if you made it this far.... thank you for caring, now go and get a life.

homework bites. erm, not literally, although that would be an excellent excuse for not doing it: "i couldnt do my research paper because it was vicious and kept biting my face!!!"

i definitely just almost washed my face with toothpaste..... nice.

i thought the holiday season was supposed to be cheerful but instead it just makes me want to curl up in a ball until its all over.

why am i so emo?

i called my neighbors to see if they had a witches hat i could wear for my macbeth presentation tomorrow, and my sister was over there when i called since she and the girl who live there are friends. well, i guess her mom told them all why i called, and the other little girl who lives there who's in like 1st or 2nd grade asked "why does she want that? is she going around kissing boys?"

i'm going to come down with a fever and have to miss school altogether, and then i will miraculously recover at 2:36 and start running around because i'll be on vacation.

well, i'm an oxymoron.

later that day i scored a point and so they finally decided to find out what my name was. which they found out by saying "hey, Girl, do you have a name?"

this way when i meet thiessen i can be like "sooo... i'm making a documentary of the night.... and now youre in it. any words of wisdom?" as opposed to, you know, just.......... drooling.

i hope i dont combust before the show. although it would be pretty awesome if i ran across the stage while on fire. well.... no, burning in a good way.

guess who was sitting in my creative writing class when i showed up.... pretty much the entire senior male population of my gym class. this one kid was like "hey!! it's girl! hi girl!" and i was like "hi, boy."

hahahahaha oh boy stalkers are great.

at least we have myspace to hold the world together when everything else falls apart, right?

Id almost been martyred in a relient k mosh pit.

Then me and Wanda had the bright idea of borrowing a swivel chair from one of the computer stations in the library, and we rolled each other down the hall in it at full speed. Wanda said she feels like a real rock band.

for the first time in my life, I HAVE a life

I pretended I couldnt hear until pat was like you should bring Girl to the prom, and john was like yeaaaah! and turned around and looked at me, and I was like nnnoooooo

I get to go places with COOL PEOPLE tomorrow. mostly one cool person actually. we wont elaborate further than that but if you know me well enough you probably guessed there was somehow a guy involved. pink monkeys.

the family isnt supposed to know I let Wanda drive me around to the music store and the mall and all that jazz. And Im not supposed to associate with ppl who have unnaturally colored hair.

whatever guys me and Ravin wind up with are going to have to live in our orb with us.

erny stopped swearing so much around me because i used to punch her every time she did.

purple. you know what i mean.

OOH I MADE AN UNDERWEAR REFERENCE!!!

i reproduce by budding, like cells.

---------------------

Peace, love and boobs,
Miss Rex

Indulgences

2010-08-28T22:55:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I indulged in...

...Juicy Juice that I got from Wanda. She was late to my end-of-summer bonfire and I called her to say we were out of Juicy Juice, so she showed up with juice boxes.

...Skipping chapel.

...Buffalo chicken with Razz, who's also a veggo.

...Cake smothered in frosting, coconut and jelly beans that my apartment surprised me with.

...Reading children's books while sitting at the RMV waiting to get my new license.

Then JW, my knight in shining armor, whisked me away to Boston.

We got dinner at Fire and Ice and I got a delicious strawberry mango margarita. JW told the chefs it was my birthday so they let me come up to the grill and stir fry my own food while everybody else waiting for their dinner had to sing to me, lest the chefs refuse to feed them. Then the chef handed me a bag of potato chips, said "happy birthday," and handed me my plate. Udon noodles are fantastic.

After that, JW took me to the North End, which is the Little Italy part of town. He treated me to Limoncello, Bailey's, and two Washington Apples. Then we sat on a park bench, took pictures with statues, and befriended the cop who was guarding a giant statue of macaroni.

I didn't get trashed on my 21st birthday. I didn't even get drunk (though I might have been a little tipsy). And I'm really glad that's how it went down. So many people get trashed, throw up, pass out, or drunkenly screw up on their 21st birthdays, but I will remember every perfect second of my perfect night.

Peace, love and Starbucks' Caramel Apple Spice,
Miss Rex

3 x 7 = How old I am today

2010-08-27T13:13:00.000-04:00

Oh dear God, reading my old blog is EXHAUSTING. I was so freaking hyper at 14. And I knew it. And I think I knew it was obnoxious, or at least I said I knew it was obnoxious, but I’m pretty sure what I actually thought was, “I am freaking hilarious. Everybody listen to me being hilarious.”

My first blog was from back in the days of dial-up Internet, when MySpace was the place to be. Knowing how bad our Internet connection was, I can’t imagine how I was online enough to post as many as three times a day. And it was all. Useless. Drivel. I talked about Relient K every other word. But at least I had the good sense to know it was embarrassing that I had ever liked N*Sync.

Also, had the return key not been invented in 2004? Because everything I said was in one long, rambling block of text, which leads me to believe I didn’t pause to breathe a single time in the year 2004. For someone who was supposedly a “good writer,” I wish I’d had some idea what a run-on sentence was.

In honor of my 21st birthday today, I'd like to share some choice tidbits from my high school self, for your amusement (but even more so for mine). These are from sophomore year... more to come.

-----------------------

OK so how many gwapes can u fit in YOUR mouth? well i can fit 11 and so can my friend raven but my other friend spleen can fit 12, right before she bursts out laughing and they go flying all over the table and look really gross. who knows tomorrow maybe she'll bring smaller grapes and then she can fit 15. once i knew this kid who could fit 18 full-sized marshmallows in his mouth at once, and still say "fluffy bunny." and this other kid who could fit an entire clementine in his mouth and almost close it.

i need someone to talk to. i feel rather lonesomeful. hmm well i can go talk to my sis who i guess thinks she is a water fountain, please dont ask. oooooh! a lollipop!!

well jmae was reading my blog and decided that she was inspired to imitate an elephant. and now i guess she has a few words to type. hmm i guess i better proofread this... ok this is jmae:
emememememememem
ok i guess thats what she thinks an elephant sounds like.

i played volleyball on a moonwalk and the guy who came with the moonwalk was reaaallly cute so me and heather named him skittles.

what if somehow my brain got switched with my ex-boyfriend's brain? and suddenly we had to live each other's lives? i'd be RUINED i tell you! ...friends? idk maybe he could handle them... if he just shut up and pretended to have laryngitis... seriously i mean i dont hate him but we're polar opposites, i dunno how we ended up going out. (Author's note: I apparently feel this way about every ex-boyfriend I have. Is there a lesson I should be learning from this...?)

yay guess what my clock is all better. i think it caught my cold but i gave it some medicine and now its stuck at whatever time it was when i poured cough syrup on it... just kidding it says 3:48 just like it should.

yayy i got my yellow belt!!! and the creepy kid didnt tell me what i smell like!

and tristram, my sped buddy, was like 'mandii is the gay pride penguin' so i hit him with a ruler because i most certainly am not.

mr leary.... i know youre not reading this... but... YOU OWE ME A STAPLER AND I BETTER FIND ONE IN MY STOCKING ON SATURDAY!!! or i'll turn you into strawberry milk

we had a 2 hour delay cause of the snow... first i couldnt hear the bus go by on its way up my street, and i was in the kitchen when it went by the other way. it stopped by my house because my neighbor and i always have to catch it on its way back, and i pulled on my chucks without tying them and grabbed my backpack but no coat and ran out there in the foot-deep snow, but it drove away without me. so now my feet were cold and my chucks were soaking. so i tried to dry them off with a hair dryer but my mom told me I was being stupid and to wear different shoes.

i told heather she had a lima bean on her face, and then i decided it was a brussel sprout instead. even tho it was really just a piece of dirt or something. then i accused her of giving me foot cancer.

period 4 - health test. agh. I HATE SEX IT IS SO GROSS.

i hate math with a passion that burns like a burning passion of hatred. but today i am a mathlete.

my neighbor says... SQUIRREL!!!!!! SQUIRREL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! icky coconut GET OFF MY LEG I CANT FEEL MY LEG EEWWWW DID YOU WET MY LEG?????

dear diary today me and lily discovered how escalators REALLY work. theres little guys on bikes inside them.

then i accidentally shouted really loud in the library so i shut up and ran into the young adult room where i fell over a chair. it was such fun!

--------------------------

Peace, love, and legal indulgences,
Miss Rex

Sky vom

2010-08-25T23:56:00.005-04:00

We're going to skip the awkward "oh hey, long time no post" conversation. I neglected you again. I'm deeply sorry and will start in on my penance after I click "Publish Post." On to more interesting things.

A lot has happened since my last post, but tonight, being the night after the first day of classes, shall be dedicated to (drum roll, please) the first day of classes.

First things first. It has poured for three days straight now, and I have been completely unprepared. We were in the middle of a freaking drought. Why should I pack galoshes? But of course as soon as everybody moves back in to Go-Co everything turns to sky vom. I forget that this place does that.

By the time I got to chapel I had taken two showers; one when I woke up, and one on my way to the chapel. I literally wrung out my hair when we got inside.

Afterward, Jo-Yo and I decided to run our clothes through the dryer, which is now "free" to use (i.e. doesn't take quarters, but there's an $80 laundry fee tacked onto our room and board costs). But my skinny jeans shrunk in the rain and I couldn't get them off, so Jo-Yo had to undress me.

Then I finally managed to access my email for the first time all week and realized I was supposed to be at a meeting at 8:00 this morning, which obviously didn't happen. I feel that I've hit the bottom of some academic bell curve for missing my first obligation of the year. And I thought I was so good for going to chapel.

Before I left for my 2:10 class, I cut up a trash bag to make a poncho. Wouldn't you know it, the sky had ceased puking by that point and was only taking a tinkle on us.

My first class is a communication theory class. I wish I could tell you more about it, but when the prof described what we'd be learning, I had no idea what the flamingo he was talking about. Luckily he grades on a contract, which means that if you do everything you're supposed to do, you get a B, even if you don't do it well. I know what grade I'll be getting in that class.

My second class is a fiction writing class. We've already started working on dialogues and drafts. I am, for the first time in maybe forever, legitimately stoked for a class. I'm hoping to use this as an opportunity to workshop parts of my novel.

And that's all the classes I have this semester! I'm getting 4 more credits for an internship I'm doing with a company we'll call Skipping Stone Media, which doesn't start until the middle of September.

So I've got my reasons for being stressed and my reasons for being stoked. Although most of the latter are related to a) living in an apartment with Razzmatazz, Mnomanoms and Taz, which is b) upstairs from my marvelous boyfriend, who deserves a post all his own, and c) turning old enough to take part in my friends' drunken revelries, since up to this point I have, of course, abstained from ingesting any and all alcoholic substances.

And just for the record, Friday (my birthday) is slated to be sunny with a high of 75.

Peace, love, and ponchos,
Miss Rex

Out of the blue poetry

2010-07-26T14:04:00.003-04:00

I've been writing some poetry lately. I dunno where it's coming from because I'm not trying to write poems; they just keep appearing in my notebooks. This blog is the closest thing I have to a workshop right now, so help me out. These are rough drafts. If you don't like them, rip them apart, just tell me why. And if you think they're decent, great, but again, tell me why.

Jet Stream
7/22/10

It was a subtle change,
but the daylight looks so strange today.
The window gleams with golden pane.
The wheat fields bow with golden waves.
The sky is such a crystal blue
my godless eyes might pierce it through.
You sly trick mirror, you fox-begotten shroud!
What happened to my heart-shaped cloud?
My ice lamps sputtered and died in your jet stream.
You rained them down soft, then harder—
like static on an old TV,
shook out and hung to dry across your harbor.

------------------------------------------

The World Is Too Sharp Through A Glass
7/17/10

The world is too sharp through a glass.
There’s no slanting, no spin: it lets the bright
and ugly in
just the same.

The world is too sharp through a glass.
There’s no blur, no spin; washing out the whites
is sure to wash the scarlet in.

The world is too sharp through a glass.
The light cuts through the curve, a saber
to the eye,
jousting with the colors, fencing with
the lines.

Whiskey-wash your thoughts down,
dull your head.
Leave the lenses on the stand beside your bed.

-----------------------------

In particular I've been struggling with the line breaks for both of these. I resist end-rhyming, but Jet Stream seemed awkward without that structure, yet somehow seems awkward with it as well. And the breaks in The World Is Too Sharp, I don't know, just seemed too arbitrary to justify. Thoughts?

Peace, love and H2O,
Miss Rex

You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone...

2010-07-23T12:50:00.004-04:00

Today has been weird.

It all started with this crazy dream in which I'd gone fountain-diving for change. When I surfaced, I decided I had better find a Coin*Star, but then my ex was there with a $25 bill and he said he'd trade me.

"Are you sure I even found that much?" I asked dubiously. He seemed to really want the change, so I dropped it at his feet.

"Just kidding," he said, but I was too quick and I took the bill from him. He wanted to fight me for it so I ran. Turned out it was actually a $220 bill. I realized I'd made out like a bandit and hid it in my pants, because that's what all good crooks do with their money. Please don't ever try to rob me.

Long story short, he chased me around for what seemed like hours. He caught up to me in an elevator that looked like the inside of a glacier. I pushed the button to go down to my car. He pushed the button for the top floor. The elevator started to go up. I was stuck.

Lucky for me, his half of the elevator suddenly dropped away as an automated voice said it had gotten too hot. Global warming for the win.

Some kids I found upstairs agreed to help me escape. My ex soon found me and I started jumping down whole flights of stairs to get away. I think the kids deterred him but I woke up before I could get to the car.

When I woke up, my alarm hadn't even gone off yet. Normally it's all I can do to roll out of bed after hitting snooze a couple of times, but today I couldn't even fall back asleep to finish the dream.

It was a dark, but thankfully not stormy, day at camp.

When I got there, two of the three other counselors I work with in the half-day program weren't in. All the older campers had gone on a field trip, leaving us with the run of the school, field, blacktop and playground. Eerie factor #1: Spending the day in a ghost school.

Then my boss randomly told us we're no longer allowed to help the kids in the bathroom, even the three-year-olds who can't always pull up their pants themselves. I'm sure some parent complained (that's fairly common in our line of work), but it seemed random in the context of random events that preceded and followed. That was eerie factor #2.

Then the fire alarm testing began (eerie factor #3).

We took the kids out to the playground because the noise was scaring some of them. I prayed to God it wouldn't rain. It stayed dreary and hot.

We were in the middle of setting up for our unbirthday bash - complete with hoodsie cups, party hats, and noisemakers - when, eerie factor #4, water started gushing out of a spigot in the side of the school. Not just any spigot, either - one at the top of the wall, just inches below the roof line. And not just any water - this shit was black.

It was all we could do to keep the kids from going to investigate, especially when our instincts were to do the same. After about 5 minutes it stopped, leaving a stinking black puddle on the blacktop. I started to wonder whether calling it "shit" in my mind was really such an inaccurate prognosis.

And THEN the seagulls showed up. A huge one landed right in the middle of the tables where we'd had our unbirthday bash. My co-worker's boyfriend had brought their kitten for show and tell and I was terrified the monster bird would carry it away. Good thing there was a wall of children surrounding the poor thing.

After my boss chased away the seagull, it perched on the corner of the building and watched us, calling to its minions every so often. That was eerie factor #5. Alfred Hitchcock, anyone?

By the time we went inside, seagulls were wheeling overhead and my kids were preparing to sacrifice me to them.

Needless to say, TGIF.

Peace, love and stupid frickin goddamn silly bands,
Miss Rex

Use your imagination...

2010-07-20T15:27:00.005-04:00

Presenting the long-awaited cheaptickets.com commercial contest video, starring Miss Rex and The Pantsless One (conveniently clothed for this episode)!

We were shooting for 50 grand but we didn't even make it into the finals. Hard to believe, eh?

But hey, 'twas a learning experience. Now I know how not to light a green screen, but that a decent one can be made for under $10. I know that you should never use the on-camera microphone, but that decent sound effects can be made with a little resourcefulness and imagination. And look at all the fun costumes I got to wear! (Oh god, I nearly died in that snowsuit under all those lights...)

Now let's play a game. With the exception of the flute playing in the Paris scene, all sound effects were created right in my studio (read: bedroom) with everyday household items. Who can figure out what I used?

Peace, love, and not coconuts,
Miss Rex

Photofinish Friday: Tales of the Texans pt. 2

2010-07-16T12:42:00.011-04:00

Most of these are from the Botanical Gardens in Fort Worth, Texas. I wish my biology class would spend more time learning about giant trees and flowers and less time studying the intricacies of phospholipid bi-layers.

Peace, love and hydrophobic tails,
Miss Rex

Tales of the Texans

2010-07-13T19:08:00.011-04:00

Today I finished work on a video project I'm entering into a contest at cheaptickets.com. The contest was to create a 30-second advertisement for the site. I'm quite pleased with the result, but I'm not posting it until the judges have had a chance to look at it. For now I'll tell you this: It involved a million little hole-punched circles, a box of rice, me wearing a bathing suit and snorkel on camera, and such lovely pictures as this:

Bet you're salivating at the mere thought of 30 whole seconds of this AWESOMENESS.

Until I can share the video, I have many a photo to share from my trip to Texas for my cousin's wedding. Here's the first batch.

Peace, love and zucchini muffins,
Miss Rex

Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G

2010-07-02T13:15:00.004-04:00

Wow. It really is true: Boys are the same across the board, regardless of age or religion or nationality.

Today my littlest, cutest camper was wearing a big, red ring on one of his fingers. One of my other kids told him that meant he had to kiss a girl, and the littler one accepted this without question. The bigger one then went on to coach him, helping him decide which girl to kiss and how to go about it.

Seeing as they're three, I saw no reason to put a stop to their scheming. Little did I know I was the selected target.

For the next hour I kept hearing, "Now, Shane!" This was invariably followed by a little kid barreling into my leg, wrapping his arms around it, and kissing my thigh (the highest he could reach) with a very loud and enthusiastic *smack.*

Now rewind about a month. It was my last night in Italy, and one of my companions had been pulling the 21-year-old equivalent of "Now, Shane!" for at least three days, trying to get one of the Italians we'd befriended to kiss me on the cheek.

Let it be known that I was more than okay with this plan. And he did finally go through with it. I guess the make-out sesh that happened afterward was where the situations varied...

But I'd say the evidence more than supports my hypothesis.

Peace, love and portobello mushrooms,
Miss Rex

On parachutes, props and pride

2010-07-01T01:31:00.000-04:00

Today was awesome. Okay, some stuff went wrong here and there, also known as being a woman, but really I haven't a single complaint.

First off. It's been a while since I've updated. I'm working at summer camp again with the 3-5 year olds. I was disappointed they put me with the littlest littlies this year, but you know what? They are a-freaking-dorable, and they get bonus points for ALL being potty trained!

A couple weeks ago I told my supervisor we should get the kids a parachute because it always used to be my favorite part of camp, but she didn't think we had it in the budget. Then today she showed up with a parachute! All the other counselors gave me funny looks when I jumped up and down with excitement. I just love parachutes. I got to be the mouse for Cat and Mouse. My job is the best.

Then I went to The Pantsless One's house to film a commercial for a contest we're entering. I borrowed ALL sorts of equipment from a friend who works at a TV station (we won't name any names here ^_^) and I was pretty much set to shoot the thing.

Unfortunately, the guy putting in the floor in the room we needed to film in didn't leave until 7:00 (I swear the floor was done when I got there at 2), and our time-killing prop-shopping spree fell on its face when Wal*Mart failed to have a scuba mask.

But TPO's living room is now effectively a green screen studio, complete with amazing pro lighting that DIDN'T blow any circuits! It's a small miracle. Not to mention we have something resembling an actual script now that we've had time to talk it over, and it's leagues better than the vague idea I started with. Tomorrow we film!

After the studio was set, we picked up our friend The Italian and watched The Breakfast Club, which I shamefully have never seen. But I left early so I could get a good night's sleep before work. So why am I here online blogging at 1:30 in the morning, you ask?

I couldn't stop thinking about a sentence I lost. It was the last sentence of my entire fantasy series and it was possibly the most beautiful thing I'd ever written. But I hadn't had my notebook with me when I thought of it, so I jotted it down in... whatever I happened to be carrying at the time, which could have been anything.

I remembered the page being narrow but still having lines. I remembered it being the last empty page in the notebook. But I'd already checked the last page of every notebook I could find with no success.

Since sleep would not take pity on me, I got up and dug through some more school papers. I checked between the pages of books to see if I'd torn it out and used it as a bookmark. I found a $15 iTunes gift card, which was the next best thing, but no epic concluding sentence.

Then I got the crazy idea to start reading every page in all my notebooks until I found it. First I started flipping through one of the notebooks I'd used for my journalism class, and BAM! There it was! Right in the middle of the notebook. I think it really was the last blank page I had, it just wasn't at the end....

The last reason today was awesome is this article. Christians get a bad rep for hating on homosexuals, and I resent that. As I'm sure I've said many a time, being a Christian is about LOVE. Jesus didn't support prostitution, but he loved the Samaritan lady who had had five husbands and was living with another man. So too should we love the people we tend to judge. Judging is never our job.

I admire these Christians who showed up at a gay pride parade to humble themselves and apologize. I am moved and inspired by their bravery. I hope God blesses them and all they do in his name, the name of love.

Peace, love and panda hats,
Miss Rex

Things my mother doesn't understand

2010-06-20T01:27:00.006-04:00

My mom and I have a great relationship. We're very open - I really do tell her most of what goes on in my life. I enjoy her company, she enjoys mine, and I value her advice, sometimes a little more than it's really wise to value a single person's input. But then I get a night like this and all I can really say is WTF?

I spent the first three weeks of my summer (excluding the time I was abroad) mostly bored out of my skull, to the point that mom was sick to death of me complaining about how bored I was and actually nagged me to get the heck out of the house. If there's one sure-fire way to get me out of the house, it's nagging, especially about how I ought to socialize.

The functioning and etiquette of college-aged social circles is #1 on the list of things my mother doesn't understand. Texting someone I've barely hung out with day after day asking to do stuff seems anti-etiquette to me, regardless of whether her theory that he's romantically interested holds any water.

On Wednesday my friend Bear, who I met through Ravin a few years ago, and who she in turn met at school in Ohio, came to visit. After a bizarre twist of events that ended with him not being allowed to stay at her house the first few nights, we put him up Wednesday and Thursday, and as good friends are wont to do I have hung out with him and Ravin and sometimes The Pantsless One (TPO) pretty much non-stop since Bear got here.

I should mention that Bear doesn't sleep more than four hours on a good night, so I stayed up late keeping him company the two nights he was here. This was not an act of pity on my part. The great thing about Bear is he puts me at ease so that Suppressed Me can show her face, and that's something special.

This brings me to item #2 on the list of things my mother doesn't understand: Teens/twenty-somethings' sleeping patterns, or lack thereof. I believe that, as people who are biologically alive, the most vital thing for us to do is to "live deep and suck out all the marrow of life" at whatever hour that marrow is there for the sucking, even if the hour is late or the place is far. I'm flexible; late hours and far places don't bother me, and if it gets too late or too far, I'd sleep just about anywhere.

I have friends who are early to bed and early to rise. I have friends who play all night, then sleep until the sun sets. I have friends who seem not to sleep at all. They are all dear to my heart and I will do everything I can to savor the marrow with them, especially friends like Bear, who I see twice a year if I'm lucky.

Obviously this is not exactly how my mother sees things. Sleeping in one's own bed at night seems to be very important to her. Oh, I can get away with a night or two a week at Ravin or TPO's house, but sleep away more than one consecutive night and I can feel the bad vibes beginning to pulse. Staying up late with people is irresponsible.

While yes, it may look that way, I'll point out that I have never been late for work, never missed a class, and have gotten straight As since I got to college because I know how to balance my time. No, I don't always make the best decision. Some days I'm so tired I can barely stay awake through chapel. But I am aware of my obligations and take them into account, and when it's summer and I have none, I don't worry too much.

Speaking of responsibility, driving long distances is also irresponsible, regardless of whether I am personally at the wheel and regardless of whether the car is likely to break down (though I'll concede that with Derry this is very likely).

Point #3: Distance is not an issue when it comes to doing something or seeing someone you love. Music is my passion. Driving two hours to a concert is more than reasonable. It's liberating. It actually gives me a little bit of an adrenaline rush. This is all the better when the bands I'm seeing are my friends, like Kiros and Adam Ezra Group, because it becomes not just about the music but about friends (see #2).

Mom says driving far away is ridiculous; don't my friends and I have any common sense? I get this even more when we drive ALL OVER the south shore in one car, which is convenient for no one because we live in an equilateral triangle of 35-minute sides, but it is fun for everyone because we're best friends and we're together and to us that's more important than gas money, car mileage or drive time.

Last night Bear and I slept at TPO's house. Ravin was supposed to as well until she found out around 11:30 PM that she had to be home early for a violin lesson. Then I woke up at 8:45 to a text from XL saying that he was at my house, which I totally wasn't expecting at such an early hour, and my mother was displeased that I had invited XL only to have him hang out with me and Bear all day as opposed to just me.

I have this memory (maybe real, maybe hallucinated) of a conversation with XL that went, "We have a friend in town so you'll probably be hanging out with all of us if that's cool," followed by something like, "yeah, I'd love to meet your friends" in response. But frankly it was none of my mother’s business to be concerned about it anyway.

Tonight Ravin, TPO, Bear and I went to see Toy Story 3 (WHICH I'll add was hysterically clever, surprising, touching, and featured a Totoro plush toy) and we were going to go swim at Ravin's after, except my mother insisted I come home.

I tried to argue my way out of sleeping at home tonight, since from tomorrow night onward I'll have to actually be responsible because I'm starting work, but no dice - it's father's day tomorrow, among other reasons that ranged from semi-legitimate to completely random. To be honest I was pissed. We were all hyper and having so much fun. We picked up our friend The Italian, who was drunk and therefore hilarious. But I had to leave, and it just didn't seem fair.

When I got home I found out the reason I needed to be there first thing in the morning on father's day is that I am supposed to help make breakfast for my dad. I think that's sweet. If I'd been told that to begin with I would have been so much more compliant! Disappointed, yes, but not angry. Instead I feel like this:

On a side note, I’m starting the process of making sure all the people mentioned in my blog get code names. Sorry if things get confusing ^_^

Peace, love, and residual Chocolixir/Mountain Dew/favorite people high,
Miss Rex

Photofinish Friday: The resurrection, mwahaha!

2010-06-18T12:01:00.005-04:00

I finally bought a card reader to replace my lost cable, which means PHOTOFINISH FRIDAY HAS RISEN FROM THE DEAD! That's right, this is a zombie post. Please keep your hands, feet and brains inside of the ride at all times or there's no telling how much of you will be left at the end.

The restaurant where we had our last supper in Assisi. My mouth waters at the thought.

I found this on the elder affairs bus. I think it's supposed to be threatening...? Listen here, old people! If you step outta line, we'll see how technology agrees with you, ya hear?

More (and better) pictures next week, when I have time to plan ahead!

Peace, love and Pokémon the Movie 3,
Miss Rex

All you need is love

2010-06-13T23:53:00.010-04:00

All you need is love, and my weekend was full of it.

Thursday I had dinner with my friend Shmoe and his parents. We've been friends since Shmoe moved here our sophomore year of high school and I've always been close with his family too. Now that he's in the Coast Guard, we don't get to hang out much, so it was really excellent to catch up. After dinner we went for a night walk to see the fireflies in the fields behind his house. I've never seen so many! It was most magical. Shmoe caught me one, but it liked him better and flew away when he passed it to me.

Friday I took Derry on a little road trip to see my buddy Extra Large in a Medium World (remember my Awkward Game adversary?). I didn't think the little guy (the car, I mean) had it in him, but he made it without a problem. If one considers me driving most of the way without stepping on the brake to be "without a problem."

XL's mom made us delicious French toast with homemade caramel syrup for brunch. Let's just say I can understand why XL doesn't like school food. After, he took me to this park with a pond and a waterfall where he used to go fishing. We found a tetherball pole and I challenged him to a game.

If anyone is wondering, taking on a 6'7" guy at tetherball is not a recipe for win, and I have a bruise on my shin to prove it (turns out climbing the tetherball pole is also not a recipe for win).

We had to stop for crumbly crack (to all you normal people, butternut) donuts from this place in his town because even crazies need a little extra crazy sometimes. Then we crashed XL's dad's college reunion. They gave us good food and we cloud-watched for a solid hour and a half while the alumni caught up. I spotted an elephant and Hokusai, the great wave. XL found a bunch of dinosaurs and a camel. Overall a pretty successful round of cloud-gazing. We'll call it a tie.

Saturday I got to play princesses with Princess Sharon. She used to be my teacher but now she throws magical birthday parties for little girls, and I help sometimes. I befriended this in the mansion we partied at that day:

"Ford." "Yes." "I think I'm a sofa." "I know how you feel..." - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

The party was in the town next to the town where my first boyfriend (a.k.a. He Who Must Not Be Named) lived. His house wasn't exactly on the way, but I was early and remembered how to get there even after six years (and in spite of the fact I hadn't driven myself there back in the day; it was before I had a license). So I thought I'd drive by and see how the place was doing. HWMNBN moved out west ages ago but the house is still crunchasaurus ice cream blue, so I assume his grandparents still live there. It was weird seeing that it hadn't changed at all. It was like, instead of going to the town six years later, I just drove back in time and saw it the way it used to be. Hm, surreal. But off topic.

After the party I drove into Boston (miraculously Derry STILL hadn't broken down) to see another school friend, who we're gonna call Rad because he showed me this amazing song by the band Radical Face:

You don't have to watch. Just listen and be amazed.

Rad and I grabbed dinner at Chipotle and walked around the Prudential Center playing Never Have I Ever. We realized we'd mostly done and not done the same things, except I'd never kissed a girl.

The mall was mostly closed since it was after 9, but Barnes and Noble was still open (cue heavenly light beams and angel choir). We bonded over creepy posters of Robert Pattinson and that werewolf guy, Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, and (naturally) poetry.

We were going to crash a bar after that, just to see if we could get in, but everyone was carding at the door so we just went back to his apartment. Rad played Train and Somewhere Over the Rainbow on his electric ukelele and showed me his balcony. Then I realized it was late-ish and my mother would worry if I didn't come home soon, so I left, and Derry still didn't die.

Today I had lunch with an atheist I met at my former youth group. It had been more than a year since we'd hung out, but thankfully he's one of those crazy people who never change. At least the parts you love never change. I'm sure he's smarter and more mature than back in the day. We got sammiches and ice cream and disturbed the other patrons with our enthusiastic discussion of mosh pits and hymns.

The reason I had to go back and write this very long post (thank you, anyone who's still with me) is because someone I consider a decent friend made me feel really stupid and worthless tonight, and I needed to remind myself how many amazing, positive, loving people I have in my life. The Beatles got a lot of things right, and this was one of them: all you need is love.

Peace, love and Paul McCartney,
Miss Rex

The House of Grim

2010-06-07T21:13:00.003-04:00

If you missed my tweet, the reason there was no Photofinish Friday was that I couldn't find my camera cable. Don't get all excited now, because I haven't found it. Just wanted to re-apologize. I'm sorry.

I had some very interesting dreams last night. I've stopped dreaming obsessively of Italy, although I am still unspeakably homesick for it, and instead decided to dream about the underworld encroaching upon my school.

I was moving into a double on the west side of the floor I lived on last year, but the building was very different - much more like our admissions building, which is made of stone and looks like a castle. Taz, my roommate, was really late and didn't get there until bedtime. It was stormy.

Then I heard my dog crying on the ground outside. I had let him out through a window that opened onto a lower level's roof, so I didn't know how he had gotten down to the ground, but I couldn't just leave him out there.

For some reason we weren't allowed outside at night, so I had to sneak out. I went out through another window that led to a different lower level roof and was about to crawl into a secret passage a guy had shown me earlier in the dream, which I had crawled through at that time, when someone called out to me. I ducked, trying to figure out where the voice had come from. A light came on a little way above me and the guy who had shown me the passage was looking right at me.

"I told you not to go in there so much," he said.

I tried to explain that I'd only been in there twice - the time I went in after he showed me, and now. He wouldn't let me talk because he was very angry; there was no legitimate reason for me to be crawling around that passageway at any time. He and his roommate physically deterred me from entering the passage (I think they were swinging on vines at me?).

Finally I managed to explain that I was trying to help my puppy, and they both agreed to help me get him inside without taking the secret passage. Next thing I knew we were on the ground. We could see the main entrance from where we were, but we were far enough away that when someone opened the door, we escaped notice by ducking. It was very important that we escape notice because there were demons and evil spirits going in and out. The one that opened the door was really terrifying.

After the creature had gone inside, we stood up and were trying to figure out where my dog had gone, to no avail. Then the door swung open again, this time revealing the Grim Reaper. I ducked, but the guys were like "We have to go now!"

It turns out that we didn't have the authority to open the door ourselves, so if we didn't follow Grim we might not get in at all. And apparently it would be worse to stay outside than to follow the Grim Reaper into the demon house. Go figure. Grim held the door for us and greeted us all by name in a low, growling voice. He seemed a rather amiable chap, all things considered, but I was still very relieved to find myself awake after that. Sorry, but the insides of demon houses are not places I would explore by choice, in dreams or otherwise.

New Years in June

2010-06-01T15:09:00.002-04:00

Today is June 1st. It has been exactly six months since New Years, so I thought I would take a look at my resolutions and see how they’re coming along. New Years in June: It’s like Christmas in July, but with less of a ring to it…

1. Read. For my own enjoyment.

So far this is the only resolution that gets a big fat check mark next to it. Especially since classes conveniently decided to go away, I’ve been cracking into some quality books! I’m currently in the middle of Lord of the Rings, Eragon, and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

2. Learn the constellations.

Fail. Complete and utter fail. I brought my star wheel back to school with me, but spring is a really hard time for stargazing in these parts because it is very cold and often rainy, and I’d probably have to go all the way to the beach to escape light pollution and trees.

3. Write at least once a week!

This one gets half a check mark. While I’ve done little of my own personal writing, I have cranked out a few chapters of my novel, and my internship forced me to keep my writing gears well oiled. Now that it’s summer and I’m back from Italy, the time has come for serious work on the novel. I’m looking forward to my fiction class next fall because it’ll be an opportunity to workshop a lot of what I’ve been doing mostly on my own. And it will force me to meet deadlines! Sometimes that’s all I need to be productive.

4. Do something that scares me.

I don’t think I can honestly put a check beside this one. But then, I’m not sure I have a very good definition of what scares me.

5. Pray.

Another half-check. Although I broke the habit around the same time I broke the habit of sleeping while it was dark out, I did have a solid month or so for which I was writing letters to God as a way to try and “plug in” (as the Christians say). It was kind of nice; I think that’s another habit to start up now that my adventurous life is settling down.

As 2010 continues, I think I’m going to scratch number four for its sheer vagueness and probably number two as well so that I can really focus on reading, writing and praying. And perhaps now is a good time to tack on my new goal, which emerged in light of my recent travels: to learn Italian.

Did I mention I’m at least one eighth Italian? (The reason I say “at least” is because I’m adopted and we’re not actually sure how Italian I am.) So these past two weeks were like returning to the homeland in some weird way, even though I’d never been there. Now I’m determined to learn the language and save up enough money to go back.

Peace, love, and Eggo waffles (which I sorely missed overseas),
Miss Rex

Final thoughts on Rome, and VIDEO!

2010-05-31T08:56:00.004-04:00

Rome may not be the center of the world anymore, but try telling that to the eight million tourists milling around the Vatican. For the number of people here and for the diversity of language and race, it’s easy to forget that all roads no longer lead to Rome. But the bustle of the city also begs the question: Has Rome been too commercialized? Or does it still retain some of the ancient magic that made it a cultural hub years ago? I think the answer is, “both.”

I believe it’s important for people to come here and see the artifacts and sites. It provokes a connection and sense of reverence regarding history that can only be gained in a hands-on way. It’s mind-boggling to picture a group of people more or less like me erecting hundred-foot-tall stone columns at their public forums or the thousand arches of the Coliseum, not out of aesthetic ambition but for practical use. Just as I walk to the dining hall and then to the chapel and then to the library each day without a thought, the ancient Romans worked, ate, worshiped, played and studied in these majestic structures every day.

Imagining a population for whom these sights were ordinary offers a moving peek into history that we are fortunate to have.

Beyond even that, structures such as the crumbling Coliseum remind us that no earthly empire is everlasting, no matter how vast or powerful. I am reminded of the poem “Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley, which tells of a traveler who found the ruins of a huge statue. An inscription reads, “Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.” Ozymandias thought his kingdom would last forever. In the same way, people thought Rome would never fall. Neither is with us anymore. It’s not hard to imagine tourists visiting the United States in a few millennia to see what’s left of the Pentagon or Mount Rushmore. It’s a sobering thought, but I think people need to grasp the transience of all we take for granted – not only so we can appreciate the good things we have, but also so we can learn to hold those things loosely, assigning greater value to the intangible qualities of culture.

Yet on the other hand, the commercialized aspect of the tourist scene makes me cringe, and it’s more than the pressing crowds that make me feel that way. It seems somehow wrong to “go see the Vatican,” a place that was built to be holy and honoring to God. It’s not a museum. It’s holy ground (or should be). I’m glad the Pope still used it for his weekly message and that pilgrims still worship there. In this way, it is still being used for its intended purpose. On the other hand, I think the builders’ original vision for some of the other monuments has been lost.

But then, we have progressed. Maybe it is too much to ask that a new culture in a new millennium cling to the values of a culture so old we can hardly understand it. To the ancient Romans, watching lions eat Christians was quality entertainment. It would turn our stomachs today. For us, it would be sick to reinstate gladiatorial fights in the Coliseum, yet I believe it is a good thing to use that space as the public arena it was meant to be. I heard there was recently a concert there. Surely the designers did not intend for power chords to resonate through the stone arches. At the same time, this use of the Coliseum holds true to a purpose the architects may not have intended, but which is nonetheless as old as the structure itself: spectacle.

The real disrespect is the way vendors and con artists have turned the historical and religious sites into marketplaces and stages for robbery. Walking out of the Vatican, souvenir shop windows display tacky gold souvenirs plastered with the face of the Pope as if he were some flamboyant celebrity. It makes me think of the Bible story about Jesus overturning the tables in the sanctuary. It’s an even greater shame that portions of the city, including some of the most ancient sites, bear the artwork and tags of vandals.

All else aside, the fact that the new Rome reflects aspects of the greater global culture can hardly be pegged as a bad thing. Global culture values green space. One can see this in the city of Rome. As a matter of fact, the Italians have valued green space for centuries. In the center of the city you’ll find the gardens of the Borghese palace, a sprawling grassy space with paths for horseback riders and knolls for picnickers. Trees are scattered about and green and yellow birds fight scrawny brown squirrels for branch space. The gardens have been there for six hundred years, way before the rest of the world had even begun to create the pollution we are now desperate to eliminate with our city parks and nature reservations. Rome does not just open a window on ancient cultures; it spotlights today’s in a manner that even the culturally semi-literate can comprehend as a good thing, in spite of what may have been lost in the sweep of time and tourism.

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And now for the much-slaved-over video, for which my video partner Tyler went to great lengths to procure a firewire cable (which connects the camcorder to the Mac) and for which he was pick-pocketed in the process:

Peace, love, and jet lag,
Miss Rex

Photofinish Friday: Arrivederci, Italia!

2010-05-28T05:15:00.016-04:00

This morning, looking out the kitchen window at the sprawling green patchwork valley of Umbria, I realized that tomorrow will be the last morning that I will wake up to that view. Maybe I'll come back to Italy, maybe even to Assisi, but I probably won't live in this monastery.

It has been such a great trip and I have so many great stories to tell once I get home and get some sleep. A part of me is devastated to be leaving this beautiful country with its beautiful stone cities and beautiful gracious people, but it will be nice to be surrounded by people who speak English. Less stressful. And I miss my peeps. I think a whole semester abroad might have been stretching it, but someday I'd like to travel the world spending 2-week stints in different cities getting to know the local culture. To me that is far more valuable than any pictures I might take of monuments or any historical sights I might look at. In the end it's the people that matter, here, now, not the ones who died two thousand years ago after building the Coliseum.

With that being said, enjoy my last batch of Assisi photographs!

Peace, love and arrivederci,
Miss Rex

Rah rah ah ah ah, Roma...

2010-05-24T12:52:00.014-04:00

Scenes from the weekend:

The view from the cliff of Orvieto, where I rendezvoused with my roommates, Razmataz and Mnomanoms.

Brother Sylvestro takes a group hug photo.

The Duomo in Orvieto. It's a freaking huge church where they have this big ceremony involving a dove and a zip line or something... it's complicated.

I finally found the wizard of Oz! I was following the wrong yellow brick road this whole time....

You see? Our hostel was somewhere over the rainbow.

Peace, love and Lady Gaga,
Miss Rex

Thoughts from La Rocca

2010-05-23T18:33:00.003-04:00

In Assisi, there is really nowhere to look but up. The buildings aren’t tall, but they loom as if reading over your shoulder, and when you feel their breath on your neck you must look.

When you do, you’ll see nothing but texture. In the architecture, yes – rough-hewn rock is mixed with more recent, geometrical stones and modern-day bricks in the walls. The streets, too, are mostly cobbled. Wood and metal doors to homes and yards are set in the walls like gates to secret gardens. And there are gardens in plenty. The greens are intoxicating. Pines and palm trees live side by side. People raise cactuses next to wild poppies. The flora hides dozens of different kinds of birds, from city street pigeons to happy darting finches, that chirrup and tweet in disregard of the many tourists.

In short, the place itself is a paradox. Sacred shares ground with secular. Modern infringes on ancient. The rustic lingers in the urban. There is an old wooden cart in an alley off the piazza and a red crane repairs a tower held up by Roman columns.

Yet much of the texture comes from the juxtaposition of the people. Assisi is a pilgrimage town, which makes it more of a melting pot than even our home in the States. I’ve heard Italian, Spanish, German, and Swedish. Once in a while I even catch a snatch of English.

Visitors of all ages and races gather in the piazza. A class on tour takes pictures by the fountain. A group of Swedish tweens plays some version of sharks and minnows. Families dine under umbrellas at an open-air restaurant. A man wearing a beret sits on a stone bench and scribbles in a notepad. There are parents, grandparents and children, schools, couples, seekers and pilgrims, all bundled together in one jostling, joyful square. Countless camera eyes are poised to remember what the photographers fear they will not.

So, I have described the people in any tourist town. What makes Assisi unique is that all of these gather in the shadow of churches and basilicas that played major roles in Christian history. The streets bear the names of saints. Shop windows showcase religious souvenirs. To this day, friars and nuns walk the narrow streets, heads covered, alongside bare-shouldered visitors, Vespas, cars and buses.

And it’s relaxed. American tourist towns are so rushed in comparison, urging guests to squeeze in as much activity as possible. Assisi seems to call us simply to be. Enjoy. Take a leisurely meal. Nothing remotely like fast food exists here – the thought must be as appalling as requesting to check books out of the library (which is not allowed; most of the libraries are not even public).

Even groups on tours aren’t frazzled. The only ones in a hurry are the little children, who can’t wait to see the next new thing. As for the rest, they have nowhere to rush to, nothing to cause them stress. Assisi is a sanctuary from such things. Thus, the wine bar bubbles with company throughout the day. A man sits by himself, drinking and watching the traffic. A kid gets water all over his face at the bubbler and simply laughs. Most of the shopkeepers are gracious and patient while we try to communicate with them and everyone seems eager to help, like the friar who brought us around the library and even to the rooms and secret passages below. It seems Assisi extends as far down as it does up.

And everywhere you go, there is always something to look up at. But with the direction of up comes a compulsion to climb, and thus I find myself at La Rocca, a mountaintop castle that kept its eye on the rival city of Perugia once upon a time. From here the city is only patterns – unfolded origami rooftops, quilted farmland laced with wild poppies. You could play tic tac toe with the property lines. Patches of green pepper the rooftops where people have planted gardens. The city spills down the hillside into a valley of a thousand greens.

There are no people or cars from up here, no storefronts or pizzerias or wine bars. It’s hard to call Assisi a city from the mountaintop. With a castle behind me and the quilt below, I’d sooner say I got caught in a time warp. Tradition still holds sway in the stone labyrinths below me; it’s in the very mortar. One might say it is the mortar. Something has held this city together for over a thousand years, and I’m guessing it’s more than rocks.

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Still sorting through pictures from Rome, but I'll post them in the next couple of days provided I have time. Which I may not since I have to go back to Rome to replace my freaking passport. I dunno what happened to it. I didn't have it leaving for Rome on Friday, but I had it coming through customs at the airport. I remember the guy was all impatient because it took me a second to open up to the page with my photo and he just waved me through without even taking it. But beyond that things get a little fuzzy. I had been traveling for 12 hours at that point. Anything is possible. I could've gotten pick-pocketed by aliens and never known it.

Anyway, the fact now stands that I have to get the damn thing replaced before I can leave the country. I actually would not be opposed to spending a few extra days here, but you know... I might've rationed my Euros better if I'd known that would be the case, as opposed to indulging in so many of those yummy sprize things at the local bar...

Photofinish Friday: Bella Italia!

2010-05-21T14:22:00.001-04:00

I'ma let the pictures speak for themselves today, since it has already taken me over an hour to upload them via our monastery's Internet. Off to Orvieto to see Razmataz and Mnomanoms, then Rome for the weekend - more pictures to come!

Peace, love and Saint Francis,
Miss Rex

When in Assisi, do as the Franciscans do

2010-05-19T14:49:00.003-04:00

Ciao, friends! I'm writing to you from Assisi, Italy! So fear not, there IS a good reason for my neglecting you all week.

I'm here for a journalism seminar with 11 other Go-Co kids. I'm in charge of documenting the trip and compiling a promotional video, since this is a new seminar. Thus I have waaay too many pictures to upload them all, but I'm trying to pick out the best of them. I shall post them tomorrow for Photofinish Friday! Until then, some thoughts:

There is something pleasantly surreal about living in a city that is centuries older than my entire country.

Passing under stone archways, I wonder how they are still standing and what it was like for Saint Clare to pass under those same arches in the 1200s. Climbing the hill to the castle called La Rocca, I wonder how many battles were fought on these ancient slopes and for what. I wonder how this rich culture and civilization could be so deeply rooted in these mountains for thousands of years without tarnishing the green of the valley. I wonder how an ancient religious order still draws practicing friars in the 21st century.

Here in this place, free from cell phones and wireless Internet and the general hubbub of the States, where the gardens encroach on the city, where you can wash down gelato with a glass of wine, where the locals need their afternoon siesta, here where history is in the very mortar of the walls and where learning is not a chore but a privilege – here I can breathe.

We have a fantastic group without whom this beautiful place would be infinitely less beautiful. Everyone is so chill and there is almost always someone up for doing something (especially drinking vino!). It's hard to buckle down and do work when you're surrounded by so many great friends and such a rich culture, but thankfully the load isn't as heavy as our professor keeps making it out to be. At least I haven't found it to be so. Video work isn't stressful for me; in fact, except for the headache that is logging and capturing videos from a camcorder, I find it almost therapeutic. And with that I am off to play with my new buddy, Final Cut Express. Arrividerci!

Peace, love and gelato,
Miss Rex

Photofinish Friday: The end of junior year

2010-05-15T10:20:00.010-04:00

Oops. I meant to post this yesterday, and thus begin the tradition that is to replace Excavations of Claymore for as long as I have no Claymore to excavate (i.e. for the summer). It's been crazy - I'm simultaneously trying to move back home and pack for Italy (I'm leaving tomorrow). So, alas, our new tradition fell by the wayside.

I am calling it Photofinish Friday. Although I cringe a little bit at the alliterative title, I think it's apt - Photofinish Friday posts will finish off the week with a series of photos I've taken that week.

I have two hopes for this new tradition. First, I hope it will encourage me to keep experimenting with my new camera, Cassie - not that I will simply take pictures but that I will learn all the cool features she has to offer. Second, I hope the posts will be quick "reads" for all of you. As much as I like to write longs posts, I don't usually like reading them because I have so many blogs to keep up with, and I figure many of you feel the same way - hence, the quickie.

So to kick it off, I've got some photos from the last week of school - enjoy!

Peace, love and packing,
Miss Rex

On Being a Loser

2010-05-12T13:33:00.001-04:00

I wrote this for my internship in light of the fact that yet another school year is ending, possibly the best school year I've had yet at Go-Co, and how depressing it is that summer break is starting even now while my friend KZ packs his stuff into a mini-van and drives away.

I had the best hall ever this year. Thanks, guys, for resurrecting my social life. I made great friends in Claymore and I am sad to see the ghetto basement coffee house relocate to our lame fake pub next year. It's weird to say goodbye to the seniors after looking up to them for the past three years, and even though I have fewer close friends graduating this year than I did last, the ones that are leaving..... how will Go-Co ever be Go-Co without you? It will become a different place, and it will always be deficient without your presence, your advice, your laughter. Without you.

So yeah, before I start bawling my eyes out, here's the thing I wrote, entitled "On Being a Loser."

Every time I go home for the summer I find myself excavating the closet under the eaves in search of something I’ve lost. This also happens at Christmastime, Easter, Thanksgiving, and on sundry weekends throughout the year. I can’t help it; I’m a loser.

My favorite pants went missing for more than half a year. I haven’t seen my hiking boots since high school. There is a tragic space between Mae and Muse on my CD shelf where Matchbox Twenty should be. Sometimes when I leave my dorm I don’t even know where I parked my car. For the record, I hardly ever lose the keys.

But these things are only misplaced. More regrettable are the things that promise to stay lost: the poem I wrote in fourth grade, the recording of my best friend singing about green tea and the word “pshaw,” the plush bear my birth father gave me when I was born (one of the only mementos I had of him).

Are these important losses? I don’t know. For now, I still have the memories. The poem was less important than how nice it felt to see people smile when they read it. It’s not important that the recording got deleted as long as my friend and I can still scream “green tea!” to each other at random and confuse everybody else at parties. Knowing that my father wanted to be remembered is enough to remind me to remember him.

I think the greater losses are the ones we couldn’t hold to begin with. I lost a best friend once, and not knowing what happened to our friendship was volumes worse than not knowing what happened to the many books and CDs absent from my shelves.

I lost my childhood a few years back, and that was a shame, too. Finally realizing what a blessing I had in spite of stupid bullies at school, I’ve returned to my tree-climbing, Disney-watching days as best I can, but it’s not the same as having no obligations.

With the end of the school year looming, I realize I am about to lose something again. More friends are soon to graduate. In another year, I’ll be the one leaving school behind. Maybe then I will look back on these four years the way I look at childhood now.

But I don’t think we really lose the things we leave behind. I think we carry them forever. They carve themselves into the fleshy pink tissue of our brains and into the caverns of our hearts. We don’t lose them because they are us, and if we do lose them it’s because we meant to, or maybe they didn’t pierce us as sharply as we once thought.

My grandfather is losing his memory to Alzheimer’s. To me this seems the greatest loss of all. Everything I create, writing or otherwise, comes back to the friends who left and the ones who stayed, to the parents who loved me enough to give me up to a better life through adoption, to the songs that served as soundtracks through the high school gauntlet. To the things I carry in the compartments of my mind.

I know how to love because I’ve been hated. I know how to sacrifice because I’ve been shown more than selfishness. These are things I haven’t lost and will never lose, even if I can one day forget where they came from. I can tell that my grandfather still has them, and because of that, I can hope that wherever I may have left my car, there are some things I’ll never lose.

RIP, Go-Co 2009-2010. We'll go out with a bang at the Batrave tonight!

Peace, love and black lights,
Miss Rex

Excavations of Claymore: Rasp-lime-erry Fizz

2010-05-10T18:06:00.008-04:00

OK, guys. Last Excavation of the year! How sad is that? I've been thinking about reviewing the Rasp-lime-erry Fizz because summer is coming and it seemed appropriate to review a cold, fruity drink. Plus, Jenniferin said I should try it. But in fact it is barely over 50 degrees out, so really my body would have preferred something hot. The only reason I'm reviewing this drink tonight is that it cost $1.60, whereas coffee is $2.25, and I had $1.81 left on my meal card.

I forgot to take a picture while I was in Claymore, so instead I am going to post this picture I found of a zombie unicorn until I get around to replacing it. Which may be never, because this picture is awesome.

I must begin with the disclaimer that I dislike fizzy things. I think they are very pretty to watch, and staring at a soft drink makes me think I would like one, but I can't not hate the way the bubbles feel in my throat. So, I am biased. Sorry.

The Rasp-lime-erry Fizz is made of Polar seltzer water and raspberry, lime and cherry flavor shots. In theory, a good mix.

Bubbles aside, I still don't think I'd be a huge fan of this drink. It's syrupy. Not as syrupy as a Shirley Temple, but syrupy. If you're used to that kind of thing then you'll probably like it. The taste is pretty good for something so artificial (which I guess is like saying, "Hitler was an artist. He was OK for a mass murderer.") I just don't normally drink anything made of such flamboyantly fake flavors. I'm all about the Juicy Juice, yo. 100% juice for 100% kids!

And Naked - I love Naked! It's pretty much puréed fruit, which explains why syrupy soda isn't my cup of tea. Or rather, juice.

I still believe raspberry, lime and cherry would make a great team. I'm sure they'd taste amazing together in a smoothie or a freezepop or a mixed drink. Just not in soda.

Defying woman's intuition

2010-05-09T19:43:00.004-04:00

In my head, I have a pretty good sense of what's a good idea and what's not. You hear about a woman's intuition, and I definitely have it. Yet that doesn't stop me from doing a lot of things that I think are bad ideas. Why? I can't explain it. I guess it... generates writing material...?

Even as I'm goofing up, there's a little voice in my head by the name of Jiminy Cricket asking me what the hell I'm getting myself into this time. But what fun would life be if we didn't spend 90% of it defying our better judgment? Thankfully Jiminy is only a cricket, and easy enough to ignore; thus I continue to do the following.

1. Using Facebook. It's such a black hole. At any given moment that I am on Facebook I can usually think of at least fifteen better things I could be doing, yet how can I fight that kind of gravity...?

2. Procrastinating. If it's not due tomorrow, I'm not worried about it (blame #1). Then when it's due tomorrow I don't have enough time to do it. Vicious cycle.

3. Drinking coffee at night. I can only do this if I intend to stay up for at least six more hours, and even after six hours, going to sleep can be problematic. This means I am tired the next day and need more coffee. Another vicious cycle.

4. Foregoing sleep. I can almost get away with alternating nights of no sleep and 12 hours of sleep. Almost. But I'm not saying it's healthy.

5. Agreeing to nap with a certain friend of mine. You'd think by now one of us would have realized we have totally different definitions of napping. If I say I want to nap, it means "I didn't sleep last night. Unconsciousness is necessary RIGHT NOW. I am saying it's cool if you join me a) because you are comfy, b) because I am too tired to argue with you, and/or c) because I want to retain some hope in your half of the species." Somehow my intentions always get lost in translation...

6. Being the sober one. You'd think I'd regret being drunk more than staying sober, but the fact is I hate playing babysitter and I can't handle it when people barf. And I get tired and cold and hungry, which I don't think I would notice if I was drunk.

7. Breaking visitation. I'm not even sure what the consequences are for spending the night in a dude's room but I'm sure they are not pretty, regardless of what actually goes down in said dude's room (the handbook does not differentiate between hawt sex and watching movies about journalism).

8. Climbing buildings. It's a $400 fine if you get caught... but everything is more exciting at higher altitudes, and visitation hours don't apply to rooftops.

9. Playing the awkward game. Letting people know you have no shame is pretty much an invitation for them to try and make you feel uncomfortable. Case in point? I have this one friend who's been trying to wig me out by putting his face really close to mine, so last night I kissed his cheek, which freaked him the heck out. He jumped across the lobby and turned bright red. Funniest thing I've ever seen. So today he happens to walk by while I'm taking down the whiteboard outside my room, runs over, and kisses me on the mouth. And runs away.

Peace, love and true confessions,
Miss Rex

The Beach of Salisbury

2010-05-07T12:05:00.000-04:00

As promised, the photos from Salisbury Beach! Can you spot "That Guy?" He's in more than one.....

I invite you all to suggest captions, since I have never been good at crafting them, and frankly I'd like to hear a little more from you in my comments section, O readers ^_^ If I like yours best, I'll post it with a link to your blog. Yes, networking! Feel teh lovez.

Peace, love and epic sneezes,
Miss Rex

Dear Mother

2010-05-06T13:13:00.011-04:00

These may be a tad late for Earth week, but I'd like to share them all the same. Not sure how to give Mother Earth a hug? Here are some ideas.

1. Save the monkeys by buying your monkey bread locally.

2. Save water by not flushing the toilet.

3. Save a mattress: sleep outside! Who needs waterfront homes when the view from the ground is this stunning?

4. Do your homework in a tree.

5. Stop and smell the roses (or whatever these are).

But DON'T do this:

"Dear Go-Co: Happy Earth day. Let us take these trees off your hands. Love, Some Assholes With Chainsaws."

Don't worry, the pics from Salisbury will be up shortly; they just require a little more adjustment as far as lighting and such. I only post the best for you guys.

Let's get ready to raaaaamble

2010-05-05T14:45:00.014-04:00

This Sunday was Adam Ezra Group's Ramble at Salisbury Beach. If you saw my Ramble plug, you know that buses were supposed to pick up concertgoers and take them to the venue for a pre-amble complete with sand, snacks and the obligatory meet and greet. All fabulous in theory. In practice, though...

My bus never came. Turns out that the driver got so turned around by the Walk for Hunger in Boston that he just forgot to come to Go-Co. My car effed up again on my way back to school Friday afternoon, so I was wary of taking the poor guy on a 45-minute road trip, but I was desperate. It would've taken more than twice as long for the bus to drop off the rest of the kids and come back for me. On the bright side, it was a gorgeous day for a drive and my route took me through some really nice scenery. And I didn't have to leave the show as early as everybody else did, which equaled chill time with the band, which you know was a big perk in my book!

Salisbury Beach was a town in a time warp. There were old-school arcades with games from the early '80s, if not earlier. I imagine Hull used to look like this back in its heyday. Wish it still did. I took on Rob, AEG's bassist, at air hockey and tried all the cookies in the fundraiser contest, but I didn't get much hang time with the band because I was so late and they had to go warm up. Adam felt really bad the bus forgot me. Turtle said, "I told you it wouldn't work."

I took many a picture with my new camera, which I've dubbed "Cassie." Here I'd like to share the best of them with you. Concert photos first; later I'll post pictures of the town once I've had a chance to sort/fix them.

I helped the guys pack out after the show and we chilled outside with a couple girls who go to even more of their shows than I do. I found out Chappy (the one playing the weird drum thing that looks like an urn) grew up in the town next to mine. Small world. Then they all decided to go to a bar, and they were going to pretend I was 21 so I could go in with them and I just wouldn't order any drinks, but alas, they were checking IDs at the door, so I left. Apparently I am now cool enough to get a kiss on the cheek from Adam when I say goodbye. That's kind of rad.

The rest of the night turned into a fiasco of epic proportions, but that is a story for another time.

Excavations of Claymore: The Shortstack Chai

2010-05-03T19:38:00.003-04:00

Made with really, really good looks, but not-so-good taste.

I love cinnamon (or as my roommate Taz says, "smimmanin"). It's great in oatmeal, French toast, cream of wheat, Snickerdoodles, and crack. Except I lied about the last one. Anyway, the point of the above list was to emphasize that smimmanin does not belong in liquid, ever. It may be a nice embellishment to a pumpkin spice chai apple cider topped with whipped cream, such as the one I got at the place near Gill's school when I visited Ohio. But not in the drink, for goodness sake.

If you want a vanilla chai, get a TeaMac (it comes with a chocolate drizzle at no additional charge). If you want to mix things up, get a TeaMac with almond, you party animal. Do not by any means add cinnamon.

That said, it wasn't an utter failure of a drink, it just sort of tumbled into the uncanny valley of beverages. I'll allow it two stars. But it's weird.

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Next week is the LAST Claymore review of the year! What shall I try?

Almond Joy
Coconut Island
Cooney-Cooney
English Challenge
Michelini
The Perfect Cap
Prickly Cactus
Rasp-LIMErry Fizz (clearly NOT coffee)
Thrilla in Vanilla

Narcissism.me

2010-04-29T22:48:00.004-04:00

Have you heard of formspring.me? Of course you have, you good little social networker, you. It's the new Twitter, the grandchild of the 200-question MySpace bulletin survey. ANYONE CAN ASK YOU ANYTHING, AND YOU'LL LOVE IT.

EVERYONE will ask you bazillions of questions, because EVERYONE wants to know the deep dark secrets of quirky, fabulous YOU, and you will get social networker's high telling them all the TMI they never wanted to know about quirky fabulous you. To the umpteenth degree. Am I right or am I right?

Problem. As much as quirky fabulous narcissistic you loves telling un-quirky un-fabulous everyone-else about YOU, well, everyone else would much rather be telling YOU how quirky and fabulous THEY are. It's all one big cry for attention. And look, I get it; we all love the feeling of eyes on us, we all want to be loved, we all want to feel like others find us interesting and unique. I want that, too. But frankly they don't give a damn about your deep dark secrets.

At least this is the theory behind why I don't have a formspring. It seems like people are always using their Facebook statuses to beg their friends to ask them questions on formspring.me, and that is just sad. Sorry if you do this, but when I see that on my news feed, I think, "This is stupid." I always want to ask a question because I feel bad that they have been so unsuccessful in their ventures of narcissism that they need to go on Facebook to ask people to ask them questions, but I can never think of anything interesting or creative to say.

I was never too good at truth or dare, either.

But I was always good at those 200-question MySpace surveys (probably because they were all about quirky fabulous ME), which makes formspring sound like it COULD be fun. I just... can't be okay with further fueling said narcissism. I mean, I guess it's narcissistic to blog, too, as if anyone should care what I have to say, but at least a blog is a legitimate way to get your name out there en route to authordom.

I also have a problem with the anonymity factor. Some small interactive feature might redeem this Me machine, but you don't even know who's asking you these (sometimes highly personal/inappropriate) questions. Yeah, sometimes that affects the answer; but it should, shouldn't it? In a normal, healthy, face-to-face conversation it would.

I guess it also comes down to the fact that I don't expect anyone would be very interested in asking me anything anyway, and I think that would just be depressing.

Shameless plug for my buddy Adam Ezra

2010-04-27T22:20:00.006-04:00

I posted this on my other blog, The Amandangle, and it's also on the Gordon College News Service blog. But I think it's an important story that needs to be seen by as many eyes as possible (especially Boston-area eyes, because you folks are within driving distance of this thing and therefore had better be there!)

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When local folk rock band Adam Ezra Group sold out the Paradise Rock Club for their CD-release-turned-Haiti-benefit show in January, it was not the first or the last time the band would use their music for the good of others. On Sunday, May 2, AEG will play a concert to benefit Haiti through Partners in Health.

PIH is a Boston nonprofit organization that strives to establish working hospitals in Haiti and around the world, thus providing health care and job opportunities for indigenous people. It is the same organization AEG partnered with in January.

“They’re setting a standard worldwide for what you can do with a grassroots organization,” said Adam Ezra, singer, songwriter, and guitarist for the band.

Through his work with other nonprofits, Ezra has seen how difficult it can be to ensure the money goes where it’s needed, but he’s found that isn’t a problem with PIH. The band looks forward to sending all proceeds from their May 2nd show, the Ramble, directly to Haiti for relief efforts.

AEG isn’t the first band to play a benefit show, but the Ramble promises to be an utterly unique experience. In fact, it already is one. The band has been working with fans since winter to rally groups of 20 or more concertgoers. These groups will be shuttled to the venue, Blue Ocean Music Hall in Salisbury, MA, free of charge from all across New England.

“We’re empowering students and fans who care about not just the music but about doing good things,” said Ezra. “The show is less about the money we’re raising and more about the community we’re building.”

In the spirit of community, a pre-amble will take place on the beach outside of the venue starting at 4:00 PM. The Hall will serve inexpensive meals and the bar will be open for drinks to those who are over 21. Ezra hopes other local nonprofits will set up camp on the beach so fans can get informed and get involved.

There is even rumor of a fan-run cookie contest. Anyone can enter and anyone can try the cookies for free, but they must make donations to vote for the winner. Whoever raises the most money for Haiti will be declared the winner.

650 people packed out the Paradise Rock Club for the January benefit show, but Ezra’s hopes for the Ramble are still modest. “It’s an experiment,” he said. “We’re not sure what’s going to happen. But it will be a success no matter what.”

Charlene Bemis, Ramble coordinator, said that more than a dozen buses are already lined up. She estimated there would be about fifteen the day of the concert.

More information is available at GetRambled.com and on the Ramble’s Facebook page. Ezra hopes everybody will think about joining the party, and only marginally out of self-interest. It seems his real goal is to make friends with everybody in the greater Boston area while fighting together for a cause.

“If you love music and you love the beach and you love people and you love doing good things for other people, then you should check it out,” said Ezra. “And I can’t think of too many people who don’t fit one of those categories.”

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And that's the scoop! If you're at or near Go-Co, we've got a bus stopping here, so let me know and I can make sure you get a seat.

On a tangential note, I bought fresh blueberries from a farm stand and they are delicious. This is really weird but I eat them in milk. No cereal, just blueberries in milk. Try it sometime (it's even good with soy milk!)

On a furtherly tangential note, some of my friends put a toilet on top of a dorm last night. <3

Excavations of Claymore: Fiona's Wicked Minty Apple Cider

2010-04-26T18:48:00.002-04:00

S. Darko. Shrek 2. Saw II. Honey I Blew Up the Kid. Shrek the Third. Step Up 2, Shrek Forever After, Saws 2-6 plus the upcoming 7 and 8... It seems the trend in movies these days is to take a decently well-made movie and spoil it by making a completely unnecessary sequel or string of sequels. Now the sequel doesn't ALWAYS suck, although many of them do, but the real problem is just that having a mediocre sequel takes away from the awesomeness that was the original.

Fiona's Wicked Minty Apple Cider was good, but it was the unnecessary sequel to the beloved Meg's Apple Cider.

You got your apple juice. You got your chai. You got your mint. It's pretty straightforward. Now, we know that apple and chai mix well, but mint really doesn't go with either flavor, even simply as an undertone. I think it's because you have two strong flavors doing battle upon your palate. And they're both tingly flavors: Malfoy mint vs. Cho Chang chai, zinging tickle charms back and forth in a wizard's duel of apple-icious proportions.

I'll give Fiona 3 stars, but I really don't think she's got anything new to offer. However, I'm sure she'll be your friend if you're on a coffee date and want to make sure your breath is minty fresh when you make out after you've had your caffeine fix. Just sayin'.

The guys who made "Ratatouille" clearly never heard about the Bubonic Plague.

2010-04-25T22:25:00.011-04:00

"Watching Disney movies is such a Go-Co thing to do." Yes, it's been said to me. And I won't pretend it isn't true. This campus seems to have an almost inordinate love for all things Disney. At one time I would've rather done anything else on a Saturday night, but apparently part of me falling back in love with this place (which is a story unto itself) is being willing - no, eager - to spend "party night" in front of a TV watching movies intended for children half my age.

Last night's pick was Ratatouille, which I had never seen. It was cute. I laughed. I cheered when the bad guys got miraculously and outrageously owned. But I didn't feel the same sympathy I usually do for movie characters, regardless of species or intended audience, and I couldn't figure out why. I worried I was growing up and losing my ability to suspend disbelief. Yet as a writer and reader I know I'm still capable of investing in a story.

Then I realized the problem.

The movie is all about rats. My literature class just finished reading The Plague. So some little part of my brain cringed every time a rat scampered across a kitchen counter, subconsciously crying out "BLACK DEAAAAAATH!!!"

So not only was watching this movie "a Go-Co thing to do," it was also edumacational!

But other than that it was a pretty good movie. I especially liked that the awkward skinny hero's name was Linguini.

Boss Fugly Bug

2010-04-23T10:52:00.000-04:00

Sometimes when Taz and I are sitting around doing homework we hear loud crashes from above our room.

We live on the top floor.

The only possible explanation is that there is some kind of monster who lives in the space between the ceiling and the roof. I've popped my head through the ceiling tiles to look for him, but so far I haven't caught so much as a glimpse. However, we have strong evidence that what we are dealing with is a giant bug.

We call him the Boss Fugly Bug because he seems to be the last line of defense for all the flicky, fugly, flying insects that come to visit us when it gets warm, like the final boss that kicks your ass in video games.

We've never been sure what kind of insect our visitors actually are. When they fly, they're easy to mistake for wasps, but they're really harmless unless you squish them, in which case they emit the fugliest smell you can imagine. Hence they are "fugly bugs."

The thing we've noticed about these fugly bugs is that most of them are horribly mutilated by the time they get inside. They are supposed to have six legs, but we've found bugs missing two, three, even four legs.

Naturally this is because they had to do epic battle to get into our room. Or perhaps it's the border price. Seems it costs them an arm and a leg to come here (funny, it costs my family about that much to send me here, too).

One way or the other though, the Boss is responsible. Either the fugly pilgrims fight him to gain entry, losing legs in the process, or the Boss demands leggy payment and grants peaceful passage once the price is paid. Possibly the reason some are missing so many legs is that we bring them outside and they are forced to pay the border fee again to get back inside.

It's a fugly life for a fugly bug.

The Rainbow Connection

2010-04-22T22:16:00.012-04:00

Most days I hate New England weather, but today was special. It was gorgeous and sunny all morning. Then around 4:30 there was a thunderstorm. This is a rare treat for us. We get a lot of dreary days, drizzly days, and downright downpour days, but usually we have to go to the mountains for a good thunderstorm.

Our room got really dark, and Taz and I amused ourselves counting seconds between lightning and thunder. The storm never got very close, so we got bored, she went somewhere else, and I went back to work. Then I suddenly noticed it had gotten very bright and the sunlight was bright gold on the pine trees outside. It was still pouring, which somewhat gave away the surprise, but as an avid rainbow-watcher I would have known that shade of gold anywhere. I ran to the window. There was a triple rainbow outside.

Luckily I have a fabulous new camera, so I booked it out to the quad and started snapping. While I was out there more rainbows appeared. I believe at one point there were five. Now for the record, I occasionally have random trippy dreams where I'm walking down the street and millions of rainbows appear, so after number four I started to wonder whether I was awake. Why yes I am on crack, thank you very much.

But this really happened, and I have the pictures to prove it!!

Most regrettably I do not have photo or video footage of this, but there was random spider lightning in between the two arcs at one point. It was epic on an apocalyptic scale.

For me, though, this is the best part:

Ever since the flood, the rainbow has been a sign from God, at least according to the Bible. And for a while now, I've been pleading with God to give me some concrete sign that he's paying attention and that I'm not crazy for writing him letters every day. My spirit is willing but my mind is weak. I can't seem to believe absent some miraculous, tangible evidence.

I think five rainbows is a fairly compelling sign.

Excavations of Claymore: An Orange Real

2010-04-19T18:07:00.008-04:00

I've eaten a lot of weird stuff in my day, particularly during the 12 days I spent in the wilderness on my freshman orientation adventure. Pepperoni and honey. Tuna fish and jelly. Freak-o-butter, whatever the heck that was... I think there was milk powder and M&Ms in it and we used it for "sandwiches" like your everyday jar of Skippy. When you've been canoeing since 5 in the morning, you'll eat just about anything. Oh, and I mustn't forget - chips and salsa with M&Ms are a party must-have for my friends at home. I have a weird palate, OK? Enter the Orange Real.

No no, it's not a chai latté with an orange on the side. It's a chai latté with fresh squeezed orange juice in it.

WTF, right?

On some fateful, random night, the coffee shop gods compelled my friends Kenya and Hippie to brew this concoction. We'll leave the question of their sanity out of this review and just talk about the drink.

The Orange Real tastes like an orange dreamsicle, except liquid and hot. You can hardly tell there's chai in it at all - there's a hint of spice, but really it's just a big creamy cup of orange magic. If you think that a steaming cup of dreamsicle sounds bizarre, you're right. It definitely has a weird flavor, so if you're one of those people who can't have their food touching on the plate, it's probably not for you. But for you pioneers of taste, I'm sure you'll be quite satisfied with the unique (and organic!) appeal of the Orange Real.

I give it 4.5 stars overall, 4 for taste and 5 for creativity plus nutritional value.

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Vote for the next Claymore Drink of the Week!

Almond Joy
Cherry Cordial
Coconut Island
Cooney-Cooney
English Challenge
Fiona's Wicked Minty Apple Cider
Michelini
The Perfect Cap
Platelet's Perfection
Prickly Cactus
Rasp-LIMErry Fizz (clearly NOT coffee)
The Shortstack Chai
Thrilla in Vanilla

New Camera!

2010-04-18T10:40:00.009-04:00

The word Casio might bring to mind a few things. If you're a musician, you might think of a keyboard. If you're a well-dressed businessperson, you might think of a watch. As a matter of fact, it turns out that Casio makes cameras too. Good ones.

My old point and shoot died a couple months ago - right after the pictures I took the night the power went out - and I was in need of a new one for general use and for my trip to Italy next month. So I got this. It's the closest to what they call a "crossover" camera you can get in a point and shoot, as far as I can tell. You can manually adjust things like ISO settings. With the next model up you can even change shutter speed and shoot in RAW format, but I only have so much moolah growing on my money tree right now.

So I took the new guy out for a shoot on Friday. Here are some of the results. I am quite pleased, although it's gonna be a while before I really have any clue how to work this thing ^_^

Peace, love, and pictoors,
Miss Rex

Fives!

2010-04-13T14:31:00.002-04:00

Why yes, I do still yell "FIVES!" when I leave the room so no one will take my seat. But that's not the Fives we're talking about today. Miss Marsha of Marsha's Musings invited me to play a game of Fives! The rules are: Give five different answers to five different questions (for a total of 25 answers), and then tag five people you want to see do the same. Pretty basic I'd say.

I admit I answered most of these yesterday while I was hyped up on coffee after doing the Claymore review, but I wanted to space out my posts a little... so sue me ^_^

Question 1: Where were you five years ago?
1. Still a teenager.
2. Writing emo poetry in Mr. Leary's sophomore English class.
3. Getting killed in a mosh pit at my first Vans Warped Tour.
4. Attending youth group religiously (by that I mean both that I went without fail and that I was really into being a Christian).
5. Trying to be a rock star (that didn't turn out so well, but I still have the guitar... It's never too late, right? Just don't hand me the mic.)

Question 2: Where would you like to be five years from now?
1. Not in school.
2. Not in New England.
3. Done with my current novel, Before the Empty Moon.
4. In a happy relationship (but probably not married yet; I don't see myself meeting anyone in the foreseeable future and I don't want to marry someone I've only known for a year or two).
5. Debt free and independent (thaaaaat's a long shot).

Question 3: What is (was) on your to-do list today? (What, I only get five slots? Well, it's for the best I suppose; no one really wants to know how many things were ACTUALLY on this list today. And no one really wants to know how many of them didn't happen.)
1. Interview about eight different people for an article on our school's production of Godspell.
2. Claymore drink of the week!
3. Go to chapel. (How am I still fourteen chapel credits short of the 30 I need this semester?? I thought going once a week was pretty consistent but apparently not.)
4. Mail application for financial aid to my old church. Try to convince them I'm still Christian enough to deserve their money.
5. Write scene 3 (or 4, depending on how you count) of my one-act play for playwriting class.

Question 4: What five snacks do you enjoy?
1. Pretzels and hummus
2. Onion rings
3. Cereals with naners (or just one or the other)
4. Anything you can put Nutella on, such as graham crackers and strawberries.
5. Yogurt (preferably frozen)

Question 5: What five things would you do if you were a billionaire?
1. Pay Go-Co the bajillion and a half dollars I will owe them when I graduate.
2. Book tickets on the next plane flying around the world. Or heck, buy my own plane so I don't have to deal with all those sniveling swine flu factories that fly public airlines.
3. Move to the jungle, where I will study endangered frogs, monkeys and mosses and write epic fantasy novels while sitting in tree houses.
4. Put my sister through college so my parents can retire/work at their leisure.
5. I guess I should use number five to do something nice for people, so I'd probably put it towards ending human trafficking and sex slavery.

And now, I choose you, Pikach-- I mean, Ravin! The Bathrobe Guy! Mr. C! Isaac! and, yes, my journalism professor!

I'm not sure all these people will want to play, but I'm dying to know their answers. Jo, I know you probably won't post it on your blog, but you should still play in my comments section ^_^

Peace, love, and randomosity,
Miss Rex

Excavations of Claymore: The Kyle Lincoln

2010-04-12T18:02:00.007-04:00

As you can see in this picture, Mr. Lincoln put his best foot forward with the yellow tux, stripey tie and backwards "K." By no stretch of the imagination am I being facetious. The Kyle Lincoln is truly the coffee of yellow-tuxedoed super heroes everywhere, and if it's not, well, that would explain why we haven't heard much from the masked men of the skies lately.

You all know that I don't hand out five-star ratings like free t-shirts at Go-Co, but for the second week in a row, I am totally floored by the Claymore drink of the week. My figurative jaw is on the ground (but I made sure to keep my literal jaw shut so the delicious coffee wouldn't spill out. 'Twould have been most uncouth).

It's hard to put my taste buds on what was so extraordinary about this blend of chocolate, English toffee and Irish creme, and I think that's why it was so good. They say the human eye prefers an average face - that is, one of perfect symmetry, balance and proportion. The same must be true of flavors.

You may, in some vaguely recalled high school science class, have seen a diagram of the tongue delineating the different taste regions. This theory was actually debunked before any of us were in high school, even my "grown-up" readers - it's based on a mis-translation of something originally written in German and was corrected early last century. However, I have noticed that different parts of my tongue taste different kinds of flavor more strongly. One of the amazingly average features of the Kyle Lincoln... wow, how to make this not awkward since the drink has a person's name... well, scientifically speaking, it stimulates all of the taste regions, which makes my tongue (non-scientifically) very happy.

There was no one overwhelming element. The drink was not too sweet, not too bitter, not too fruity or too dark or too artificial. I believe I said the same for the Irish Dream, which leads me to believe that Irish creme must simply be the perfect mate to coffee. The Sam Gamgee or Robin or Ron Weasley of flavor shots. You think Frodo or Batman or Harry Potter would've been anyone without their sidekicks? Heck to the no. They would've been effed. We would live in a world ruled collectively by Sauron, the Joker and Lord Voldemort if not for these unsung heroes.

The moral of the story is that you should definitely give this drink a try. I think it will please all kinds of coffee-lovers, whether their preference is sweet or earthy... and it may also give you superpowers.

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Next week I'll be sampling the Orange Real courtesy of my barista friend Kenya, author of the Orange Real experience. After that, I'll only be here three more weeks before summer starts! I shall truly miss my Claymore reviews. I may even go into withdrawal. The sad truth is that this experiment seems to have developed into an addiction. I drink coffee like three times a week now and it's the first thing I want when I start yawning. I mean, thank goodness it was just coffee and not cocaine, but a summer off will probably do me good.... me, and my wallet.

Tales of the Kiros

2010-04-10T12:40:00.004-04:00

I got back to my room at 3:36 this morning after One Awesome Night. My friend the Spontaneous Concert Enthusiast took me and his girlfriend to see Kiros in Maine. I didn't have very high hopes for the show after hearing it was at a church, because let's face it, have you EVER seen a GOOD concert in a church? No. You haven't. They don't happen. But this thing was legit for three important reasons.

1. People were lined up across the parking lot in the pouring rain in hopes of getting decent spots.

2. They had epic security. The guys outside the show seemed determined not to let the three of us be the first ones in, but we got there at 3:30 in the afternoon and we DESERVED to be the first ones in, darn it, so we shoved our way to the front of every new line they tried to stick us at the end of. Then we finally get in only to find that there are tall, grumpy looking men stationed every few feet in front of the stage and that made seeing the show a wee bit problematic. But SCE danced his face off, which the guards near us apparently found endearing, and they chilled out a little after that.

3. There were lights. Big, bright, flashing lights of many colors and in great numbers that made me very happy in spite of probably costing an obscene amount of money.

Kiros sadly had a very short set, I think about five songs, which was such a bummer after that long ride, but it was still worth it because they played "As Long as You Love Me" by the Backstreet Boys and SCE got to go up on stage and dance like a BSB. Also, Ryan told me to stand at his end of the stage so he could steal my heart-shaped sunglasses for the last song. It was priceless (and me without a camera, for mine decided to fail last month).

The second band, DecembeRadio, really got the crowd excited and their set was in general a lot of fun even though I didn't know any of their songs. But I did not like Seventh Day Slumber, the third band. Their music wasn't terrible, but between the hard rock hymns and the liquid nitrogen shooters, I got this icky feeling they were trying way too hard to prove that Jesus can be cool.

Then the singer spent about an hour giving his story of faith. I couldn't not respect the guy after hearing all he went through, but all the same, I didn't drive to Maine for a sermon. If you want to read my whole rant, be my guest. For now, back to tales of the Kiros!

Picture this (I giggle every time I do). Tyler, the drummer, borrowed my brand new pink paisley umbrella to go outside before the show and introduce himself to the kids. Now this guy has long hair, facial piercings, a full sleeve on one arm as well as tats on his feet and possibly elsewhere that I don't know about, and gauge piercings in his ears. Furthermore, after meeting a kid who said he was a rapper, Tyler proceeded to rap with the kid, still holding my pretty pink umbrella. Again, where is my camera when I need it?

Barry convinced SCE to pretend to break up with his girlfriend after Barry asked her why she loves Jesus and she only gave him the "Sunday School answer." Luckily Barry and I were laughing in the background so she knew SCE wasn't serious.

After everything was packed up, we all went to Wendy's, crossing our fingers that it would still be open since it was 12:50 and they close at 1. There was a guy in a pickup truck right in front of us and we watched him get his food, but the Wendy's workers totally ignored us. So we pulled up to the pick-up window and tried to reason with them, but they wouldn't hear it, so instead we went to a gas station.

Ryan dared me to hit on a couple of drunk ladies in there, but I wasn't entirely sure I could even pull of hitting on a dude, so he took it upon himself to make sure these gals got hit on. It was great.

Then we all did these weird little espresso shots we found next to the creamer, and the guys stole a bunch of them to put in the glove compartment for long drives.

Then we just sat around in their short bus for a while. Yes, they tour in a short bus. Their van blew up in Washington state or thereabouts and now they have this. It's pretty sexcellent.

Around 3ish, the band decided they should probably go to the house they were staying at that night (my parents would murder if a band showed up at our house at 3 in the morning), and there ends the tale of the Kiros.

Peace, love, and fog machines,
Miss Rex

Hello, my name is: Energizer Bunny

2010-04-07T22:45:00.006-04:00

So today. Was a very, very good day. Very little was accomplished school-wise or internship-wise or anything-really-wise, although I did finally bully myself into writing some new material for the novel. It's been slow going. Even though writing and creating are what I love to do, once I'm out of practice getting back to it is excruciating. But write I did, and I also finished a series of maps last night showing the expansion of my imaginary world from creation to the present. In all that's about 6-8 maps of varying sizes and complexity. I'm somewhat elated from all that, but depressed thinking about the other things I'm neglecting in order to make progress with the thing I love.

But that wasn't the reason today was so good, or at least, not the only reason. I ate lunch outside with Taz (my roomie), Misty (a girl who lives on my floor and shares my unabashed love for Pokémon), and the guy I played private eye with the night the power went out, who shall henceforth be known as Cripple, even when his foot gets better and he ditches the crutches he has acquired since our first meeting. Cripple squished a spider that was crawling on me and I squealed like a little girl because he got icky spider guts all over my foot. He thought it was the funniest thing ever. I didn't. Then Cripple and I went to the beach for like 20 minutes and talked randomly about relationships (more specifically, his success at having one and my failure to do so), but we had to rush back because I had class.

After class I sat under a cherry tree and wrote some more until it was time to go to Zumba, which, coupled with the 82º weather and humidity, inspired me to try my first iced coffee (it was goooooood) and I have been totally out there ever since. Taz and I went for a walk around the quad and I frolicked and sang and laughed at things that weren't funny and threw my shoes in the air. I also pointed out that the side of one of the buildings we passed had a sort of cross on it and marveled that I had never noticed it before.

"It's more of a double cross, really," said Taz.
To which I ever-so-logically replied, "It's for a double Jesus!"

Coming back into Ferrin, I ran into another friend of mine and convinced him to come with me on another walk. I was still doing the Energizer Bunny thing (that is, going and going and going). I felt bad because I couldn't stop babbling about random stuff that only crazies like me would find interesting.

I decided I felt like going out to Gull Pond even though we didn't have a flashlight (you have to go through the woods to get there, which is kinda spooky at night on account of its being pitch black). Well, okay, I'll admit I'd been wanting to go out to the pond since Zumba ended because swimming would have felt really nice after that, but I think I freaked out Taz by announcing that I wanted to go skinny dipping so there went that plan. (For the record, skinny dipping was no longer "the plan;" I just wanted to go wading and have a random adventure walking in the woods at night, for it had been far too long since my last flight from the mysterious monsters of the woods. But the monsters didn't show up. They must not have been hungry for kids tonight. Or they only swim in AIDS-infested Coy Pond, which seems likely since Taz and I got chased by one near there once.)

So instead we just went swimming. The water was really nice from sitting in the sun all day, but I still got cold really fast so we headed back through the woods, at which point I remembered why people don't usually swim with pants on: It's squelchy.

Peace, love and skinny dipping,
Miss Rex

Team Rocket Zombies

2010-04-06T08:37:00.004-04:00

I had a busy night of dreaming last night, which hasn't happened in a while. Sometimes I remember whole story lines but today I only have a couple small snippets left over.

Jessie from Team Rocket was in my room with a little self-propelled flying machine. It was single-seating and wide open to the air, with a propellor in front and two in the back like a flying tricycle (but the propellors were parallel to the ground - think Avatar aircraft for one). I can't remember why Jessie was there, but as seems to happen frequently in the old Pokémon episodes, I turned the tables on her and stole the machine. I pedaled it around the Fishbowl for a minute while she chased me, but I was too high in the air to reach (apparently my room is even bigger in dreams than in real life, which is considerable since my roommate and I live in what used to be a lounge). I was going to take the craft outside, but for some reason I never made it out. I think the machine broke, whether because it was poorly made (likely, since it came from Team Rocket) or because Jessie caught hold of it and busted something (also likely, since she came from Team Rocket).

The second dream I remember is completely unrelated, and again I only have one specific snippet. I know that I had spent the rest of the dream fleeing something with a few companions, and now we were in a gigantic warehouse. It had a skeletal structure that had once held hundreds upon hundreds of huge cargo boxes, with an aisle down the middle for huge lifters to travel, but it was abandoned now. We were climbing the skeleton because someone had opened a little door on the opposite side and they were letting in zombies whose job it was to kill us. Our side of the warehouse was completely open, but the cargo slots on their side had doors in front of them, so that half of the place was just filling up with zombies piled on top of each other trying to get through those doors to us. We made it to the top but realized that we were no safer up higher (I think the original theory was that zombies couldn't climb). So then we needed to get out of the warehouse before they figured out those doors, which wouldn't take long even for a rotting brain because most of the latches were too old to hold. One of my companions said we would have to dive out the window, and I was the lucky escapee who got to go first and break the glass. So I took a running start (as much as one can on a metal bar) and dove at the window. I was terrified I'd make it halfway through and get my hips stuck, but in the end I got out safely. I don't remember reaching the ground, but I think I fell slowly, which must mean I was unhurt, and I think there were dunes outside, which would hopefully make my landing soft. But that may just be my instincts calling me to spend another gorgeous faux-summer day at the beach!

Peace, love, and the thrill of writing a novel based entirely on cracked out dreams I have had,
Miss Rex

Excavations of Claymore: Caramello

2010-04-05T20:05:00.002-04:00

After a fortnight of coffee overkill, I opted for the caffeine-free caramel steamer this week. I was pleasantly - no, fabulously - surprised. I expected it to taste rather bland (as hot milk tends to after much nomming of espresso), but at the suggestion of the bar-dude I got like five flavor shots in it and it was anything but bland, while simultaneously keeping its distance from that sketchy realm of sickly-sweet.

It was a happy drink. You can create any number of complicated flavor ratios at a ghetto basement coffee joint like Claymore, but in the end sometimes the pure and simple things are the most delicious.

The Caramello was like a flashback to the best Halloween you ever had without actually containing small children as an ingredient (which new Hershey's commercials unmask as the secret to Hershey's goodness. Yes, you've seen them on TV. The chocolate bar melts to reveal small children dancing while singing "I'll stop the world and melt with you..." And then they turn back into a solid chocolate bar, which viewers are now expected to leave the comfort of their sofas to go purchase. Sick, I tell you.)

So, back to the Caramello. Five stars, hands down. Go try one today.

Excavations of Claymore: Granny's Turbo-Charged (Butterscotch) Latté

2010-03-29T19:55:00.006-04:00

OK, I confess: I didn't exactly try Granny's Turbo-Charged Butterscotch Latté last night. Reason being that when I asked for it, Kenya, the bardude of the night, was like "No no no! Get a better turbo-charged latté. That much butterscotch is bad for your soul."

I listened to the wise words of the bardude and ordered English toffee, French vanilla and Irish creme in my three-shot bucket of epic. Then I realized that it wouldn't have mattered what flavors I chose; a drink with that much espresso in it wasn't tasting like anything but espresso. So this week's review is short and sweet (or bitter, depending on how literal you're feeling as you read it ^_^).

I do not recommend the turbo-charged latté if you want a yummy cup of coffee. It's not horrendous, but even in a large cup it's like 50-proof espresso, which inevitably spoils the flavor.

However, I highly highly highly recommend the turbo-charged latté if you wish to stay awake for days on end.

I drank mine at 1:30 this morning and was still fully functional and coherent by 7AM. Normally my psyche dissolves into the realm of absurdity around 3 in the morning (if it doesn't succumb to sleep first), and normally, even without coffee, I then become very silly. I may have laughed a little too hard at one too many "that's what she said" jokes last night, but I wouldn't say I was bouncing off the walls.

I actually fell asleep watching District 9 with the Bathrobe Guy, who had his coffee cherry unpleasantly popped last night (yay the Bathrobe Guy! Uh, I mean, sorry about the peer pressure...). I went to bed just after 7 and fell asleep without any trouble.

But the tale does not end there. I awoke three hours later feeling refreshed and ready to face the day. I leapt out of bed and went about my morning routine with, frankly, far more energy than I normally do, which led me to believe that all that caffeine was still ricocheting about in my brain.

That's right: I got a coffee hangover. What now.

Excavations of Claymore: The Irish Dream

2010-03-22T21:51:00.007-04:00

The Irish Dream: Unlucky enough to have misplaced its name card, and yet (I'm told), lucky enough to remain one of Claymore's most popular selections. In lieu of a name card, I will now proceed to share a picture of an Irish setter that I ~~wish to~~ will someday own.

The Irish Dream is a mocha with Irish Creme* in it. I suggest the dark chocolate cocoa mix for maximum nommability.

Honestly, I don't know what to say about this drink besides the obvious de-freaking-lightful. Usually in these reviews I like to caricature each drink by personifying the ingredients or elsewise exaggerating their bizarre flavors. But I've got nothing on this one. It's not too bitter, although it is a little bit; it's not too sweet, although it is a little bit; it's not too rich, although it is a little bit. It's like Baby Bear's porridge in Goldilocks and the Three Bears: juuuuuuuust right!

You know that gorgeous girl you pass every day, or sit next to in class, or who works at the dining hall? The one who makes you wonder every time you see her, "how come she got to be so drop-dead good looking?" and you want to hate her for it, but dammit, she's just too pretty to hate. You know her? This drink is like her. But liquid.

"Ah," as the Wizard of Oz said to Dorothy, "you liquidated her, eh?" Yes, Mr. Wizard. Yes, we did. And she was four stars worth of delicious.

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*A side note on Irish creme... umm... I still haven't figured out exactly what it tastes like, but I have come to the conclusion that my prior experience with it was bad because a) I had never, ever had coffee before, and/or b) I was just unlucky enough to have a bad barista that night. It happens. Now I'm crossing Irish creme off my list of things I do not like.

Things I do not like:
Amaretto
Olives
Going to the dentist
The possibility of being crushed in some dark, claustrophobic, underground tunnel
~~Irish Creme~~

See? All better.

Next week, since the Bathrobe Guy is visiting for three days and we won't be sleeping, I'll be reviewing Granny's Turbo-Charged Butterscotch Latte. That's right, friends: THREE shots of espresso. You don't want to miss this.

Discoveries

2010-03-21T22:26:00.008-04:00

Remember growing up and learning about the three states of matter? Solid. Liquid. Gas. Maybe someone mentioned plasma, but as I recall it was still being researched and not official.

Apparently there are now five official states of matter. Plasma happens when atoms move even faster than they do in a gas. Sometime in the 90s, scientists realized that Bose-Einsten Condensates happen when atoms move even slower than they do in a solid, so slowly that the atoms start to clump together to form these mega-atoms. This shouldn't be possible. But I guess it's as possible as Pluto not being a planet; that is to say, so possible it's true.

It just goes to show that there's always more to learn. There's so much about the universe we don't know yet. There are probably some things we can never know, and some of the things we think we know are probably wrong.

It's a humbling reminder of how tiny we are and, by contrast, how huge everything else out there is. Huge enough for God to be possible. I'm mostly past the point of wondering whether there's a God - I believe there is one even though I don't know exactly what to think about him - but I still find this reminder encouraging. A discovery like this says the universe is so vast and complex that not only is God possible; he's necessary.

I've been feeling this on a personal level, too. I love a lot of people and have fun with a lot of people, yet sometimes I sense this disconnect, like there's nowhere at all that I totally fit in, even with my closest friends. I've always felt I have this big bubble of love inside of me that I want to give to someone, and I've tended to think that someone would be a romantic partner or a best friend, but maybe all along it was God.

There's a depth to my well of love that people can't (or don't) tap. Giving this volume of love away is dangerous, even more so when it's not (or doesn't feel) reciprocated. According to the religion I was raised with, God is the only one who can reciprocate on the level I need.

Sure, I have no idea who God is anymore... and I struggle to imagine what "friendship" with an invisible, intangible other might look like... but where's the harm in talking to him? To those of you who are... "spiritually connected," what do you do to feel close to God, or whatever other spirit you think is out there?

Peace, love, and question marks,
Miss Rex

In which the lamb overtakes the lion (at least for now)

2010-03-19T23:27:00.007-04:00

What a fabulous week it's been! Sunny and 60º+ since Wednesday! Let's take a look at the highlights, shall we?

10. Eating ice cream makes sense again!
9. The grass is not white. The sky is not white. Everything feels less dead.
8. I can walk outside in just a sweatshirt without feeling compelled to curl up in fetal position.
7. Birds! Birds singing, birds flying around, yes, even birds pooping on the quad!
6. Grass. Smells. Amazing.
5. Peepers!! I can't even tell you how many winter nights I lulled myself to sleep just imagining their incessant cheep-cheeping, and now they're here!
4. BEAAAACHHH! Salty air, warm dunes, and best of all, SANDY FEET!
3. Ultimate Frisbee. If you don't know what it is, watch this.
2. Going barefoot everywhere!
1. People! Everyone's outside and sun-drunk, which makes finding things to do a no-brainer. Nobody wants to do work when it's like this. People simply don't go to classes. I was lucky to have my only class canceled today... and nothing can top the moment of epiphany when I realized it was canceled.

I must say my hopes were not high on Monday when my GPS took me on a wild goose chase through Medford in the pouring rain. After telling me to turn left at a No Left Turn sign, which it does at least once a trip (that or directing me down one way streets... the wrong way), it decided that the best route to the building I needed to get to was to go around 3.5 sides of a block, amounting to over a mile of walking in the wind and rain with an already-mangled umbrella. I was late for the interview I was conducting, looked like crap when I got there, and was so cold that once I got inside my nose started leaking, just to add to the embarrassment. BUT, the interview was way fun, and the article got picked up by TWO sections of the Boston Globe regionals.

And then the sun came out (hence my sudden Disapparation after I promised to post this week)! I spent a lot of time at the beach IN SPITE OF THE GODDAMN WIND and played my first game of ultimate frisbee in way-too-many-months. Can you say glorious?

But today was the best yet. I ran into a friend I hadn't hung out with since he helped me make a 30-second PSA for fair trade coffee last spring. I joined him and his friends for lunch on the grassy space outside of Lane, and then a few of us went out into the woods to take pictures. For a change, I was not the one wielding the camera (mine happens to be broken).

The trails were still quite messy from the rain on Monday (and the entire month preceding Monday). The two guys who were there went barefoot, and since I hadn't felt like going back to Ferrin for my galoshes, I did the same. It was delightfully icky! Playing in the mud was never something I did as a child. I was very clean. We do have a rainy season swamp behind our house where my friends and I used to play, but the point of the game was always to build bridges over the muck or find ways around it. Falling in always sucked. So at first I was quite displeased with my choice of footwear, but I quickly learned that mud is incredible. End of story.

On the way back, one of the boys caught a garter snake (note, I have no qualms about using the word "boys" for these twenty-year-old men; they were certainly acting as such, and that is not a negative statement). It was adorable! (The snake, that is. Not the boys.) I was so excited to pet it because earlier this semester I was going to get a pet snake before I found out you have to keep them in freaking climate-controlled terrariums. But the poor little guy was scared and did that smelly musk thing, and it made him feel all slimy. Ick.

All of the above have conspired to make me an incredibly happy person this week. And also a rather sunburnt and very tired one. But we have one sunny day left before the lion cows the lamb back into submission, and I shall not let a moment go to waste!

Peace, love and step-rock-step,
Miss Rex

Excavations of Claymore: Tarzan and Jane

2010-03-16T18:42:00.007-04:00

Helloooooooooo, my loves! As always I apologize for the long and unexplained absence. I dunno what happens to me when I go home for vacation. It's like an anti-blog forcefield. Even though I spent most of the week griping about how boooooored I was, I still could not find it in my heart to sit down and write anything of interest. But never fear! Now that I am back at school with actual work to procrastinate from, I have TONS of fun ideas to write about!

We'll begin with a coffee review. Just to whet your whistle. This one is a little wild, so hold onto that swingin' vine, and watch out for that tree!

Okay, I know it was George who hit the tree, not Tarzan. But YOU had better watch out for that artificial banana taste! I'm no feminist, but I think it's safe to say that Tarzan totally dominates Jane in this drink, and it's time she became a liberated woman (as the saying goes).

Fake banana is a really hard flavor to work with. Real naners are most delish and go well in or with many things, such as bread and yogurt. And pizza, according to Razzmatazz and Mnomanoms, but Le Skeptic remains skeptical on that point.

Regardless, I was less than bananas over this drink. I know I raved about banana flavoring when I tried the Blondie back in September, but I have become wiser and realized that in fact it was the hazelnut I appreciated, not the banana. You know the really cheap, crappy fruit-shaped and allegedly fruit-flavored candy you get out of those 25-cent hand-crank machines at shopping malls and arcades? Fake banana tastes like that. Liquefied. For some reason hazelnut can mask that, but English toffee and French vanilla can't. Maybe Jane is one of those submissive types.

Or maybe it's just a question of ratios. I have in fact had a poorly-made Blondie that tasted pretty much the same as the Tarzan and Jane. I think the drink could pull three stars, but I suggest you order it with just a *hint* of banana, unless you're a little farther back on the evolutionary scale than the rest of us.

^ Yep, the modern blogger needs purple Chucks and a cute pink dress. At least this one does ^_^

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Next week: The Irish Dream, as requested oh-so-long ago!

Peace, love, and primates,
Miss Rex

Creating the Cast

2010-03-02T22:28:00.003-05:00

It's characterization week for Miss Rex! Yes, these individuals have lived in my head for more than four years now, and on some level I knew them... but it wasn't deep enough. My shallow relationship with them was getting in the way of telling the story because I didn't know what each person would be likely to do. I had characters who, while being distinct from one another, weren't really three-dimensional people; they were just archetypes carrying out my bidding. Fellow writers, you understand my position.

So this week I've been delving into them. Putting on their skin, so to speak. Which reminds me of this weird episode of Pokemon I just watched with my friend down the hall (then again, what episode of Pokemon ISN'T weird?). There's this guy named Bill who lives in this random lighthouse where he studies Pokemon and hopes that one day the Dragonite making mysterious noises across the ocean will come be his friend. Apparently this Bill guy dresses up as Pokemon ~~for kicks and giggles~~ in order to understand them. So that's what I'm doing this week: Dressing up as Pokemon. I mean, as my characters. I guess it's pretty weird either way, huh.

But I know I've been successful because the characters now feel out of my control. It's odd being worried that a character might behave in ways that make you, the author, look bad. I don't think most people (that is, non-writers) understand that, beyond a certain point, the character has her own free will - she's a person, not a pawn. She does what she does without any consideration for how beating up her fourth-grade classmates and swearing might make me look. Lila, dear, I would very much like my book to be suitable for young readers, not to mention classy....

To which I'm sure Lila would reply, "The hell do I care about your scant readership?"

YOU CARE BECAUSE I CREATED YOU, YOU SAUCY WENCH!

Writers, how do you get to know your characters? And what do you do with the rogue ones?

Excavations of Claymore: The Long Islander

2010-03-01T09:00:00.000-05:00

You know how Strong Bad calls beers "cold ones" so that kids watching Homestar Runner won't realize he's drinking alcohol? I feel like the Long Islander should be called a "hot one." Yeah, its name card specifically states that it contains no alcohol, and nor does it contain the coffee addict's drug. I just want to call it a "hot one" based on the name's resemblance to Long Island iced tea.

I can imagine myself walking down a busy New York street, drinking a Long Islander on my way to work in the morning. It has that NYC class, maybe even a hint of flair: a sophisticated sweet for the sophisticated New York sweetheart. And you're guaranteed to stand out for drinking it, which I hear is how they like it in New York: you're strolling around the coffee-guzzling capital of the world, yet the Long Islander hasn't got a drop of espresso to its name.

It's warm in flavor and temperature, which makes it a good choice for those yeah-it's-still-February-but-I-really-want-it-to-be-summer-blues nights. But I might actually recommend it even more in late fall. Autumn and chai are practically synonymous in my book.

Chai and tiramisu may sound like a complicated (and ritzy) blend, but it's actually quite simple. The sum total is sweet, with a spicy undertow and creamy froth. It's like someone took the J-Brands off steroids, which chilled it out to the point of being tolerable, but gave the kid a bucket of Halloween candy instead. I.e., this thing is still pretty hopped up on sugar, but if you're in the mood for rolling-on-the-floor-laughing company, maybe that's exactly what you want. Overall I give the Long Islander 3 stars.

And no worries if you're not a sophisticated New York sweetheart. The unsophisticated, catty Wisconsiner can most certainly enjoy a nice hot one.

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Several of you have asked me to try the Irish Dream. Michael, if you're reading, are you working this week at all? You're the only person I trust to make me drinks with Irish Creme, haha.

In the event that Michael is not working, let's hear everyone's votes for this week's Claymore selection!

Almond Joy
Caramello
Cherry Cordial
Coconut Island
Cooney-Cooney
English Challenge
Fiona's Wicked Minty Apple Cider
Irish Dream
Kyle Lincoln
Michelini
The Orange Real
The Perfect Cap
Platelet's Perfection
Prickly Cactus
Rasp-LIMErry Fizz (clearly NOT coffee)
The Shortstack Chai
Tarzan & Jane
Thrilla in Vanilla

Buried treasure!

2010-02-28T23:59:00.002-05:00

Isn't buried treasure great? I don't mean just the kind at the bottom of the ocean. I mean A bottle of Naked you forgot was in the fridge. $20 bills you didn't know you had (yep, I found one last week. It bought me a new pair of flats, which I would be thrilled to show off if it would stop freaking snowing already). A theatrical morsel you wrote but never published.

You guessed it - I found one of those, too! Enjoy and comment. Your literary critiques are more valuable than forgotten Naked. Maybe even more so than free money... convince me ^_^

(MARCUS and JADE walk into a messy bathroom. JADE has an empty grocery bag in one hand and is dressed/groomed nicely. MARCUS is wearing sweats, hair uncombed.)

JADE: Wow… everything looks exactly the same. It’s like I never left.
MARCUS: Sorry it’s such a fucking mess. My dad lives like a–
JADE: Like a frat boy. I know. Don’t worry about it; I just want to grab my stuff.
(She opens the bottom drawer. MARCUS stands in the doorway and watches, shifting his weight uncomfortably.)
MARCUS: I’d really like to clean this place up.
(Beat; JADE moves pajamas from drawer to bag.)
MARCUS: Dad just gets so pissed when anybody touches anything, y’know?
(Beat; JADE grabs a handful of make-up and throws it in the shopping bag)
MARCUS: But, y’know, he goes to New Orleans in February, so maybe then I can…
JADE: Yeah. (She throws a tube of toothpaste in the bag and shuts the drawer, stands up)
MARCUS: So you’re doing OK? School and everything?
JADE: Well, you know. I like it about as much as I did last year…. (Beat; then, brightly:) But I have an internship now.
MARCUS: That’s great! What are you doing?
JADE: Channel four news.
MARCUS: That’s fucking great!
JADE: Yeah, it’s been fantastic so far. How about you? Written any good songs lately?
MARCUS: No, work’s been kicking my ass. That's what sucks about Christmas. The post office looks like a fucking bomb went off. Hey, you wanna… go grab dinner or something? Catch up?
JADE: Oh, umm… Tonight’s not–
MARCUS: C’mon, I’ll treat.
JADE: With what, your Monopoly credit card?
MARCUS: Hey! I have real money.
JADE: (Laughs) I know, I know. But you like to save it. Don't go throwing it away on my account.
MARCUS: I got paid today. Come on, where should we go? You always like that place, what is it, that place in Gloucester. I’ll take you there.
JADE: (Breaks eye contact, pushes past him to go downstairs) I have to go. My boyfriend’s waiting in the car.
MARCUS: (Looks surprised, but tries not to miss a beat; follows her to the door) Oh. Well, we should hang out soon.
JADE: (Opens front door, faces MARCUS. A black car is parked outside, still running, with said boyfriend in the driver’s seat) Yeah. Well, uh, thanks for my stuff and, uh, take care….
MARCUS: You too. I’ll call you.
JADE: Sounds good. (Leaves, closing door behind her; chuckles softly) Sure you will.

Damage Report: cones up, power out, pants down

2010-02-26T09:37:00.008-05:00

I am at Starbucks. Yeah, I know. I never go to Starbucks. They are overrated, overpriced, and don't even make very good coffee in my opinion. And apparently EVERY parent on the north shore takes their kids here in the morning... huh?? But the Go-Co has no power today, and thus all networks are down. Even here I can't get my email. And my battery still has 63% to go before it's fully charged, which it has to be before I go back because there is no electricity at Go-Co. Well... I guess there's the new science building in a pinch.

I happened to be hyped up on coffee when shit (and trees) went down last night and thus was compelled to run around campus playing private eye. I'm not sure when the adrenaline replaced the caffeine. It seemed like a sweet deal last night, but both have worn off now and Miss Rex is ready for naptime. But before I pass out, here's the scoop:

“It was a dark and stormy night” doesn’t even begin to cover it. 40-50-mile-per-hour winds lashed rain against the windows; students sitting nearby kept wary eyes on the glass. Here in the Fishbowl, Taz and I closed the blinds for protection after watching the glass bow inwards like mere canvas. Then, around 11PM, a tree fell near the chapel, taking out some wires and cutting off electricity across campus.

“We’ll definitely be without power until at least the morning,” Go-Po Officer Cherry said at about 1:00 this morning. “National Grid hasn’t even responded because it looks like a bomb went off in the next town.” Other officials estimate that we could be without power until Friday afternoon. Authorities decided to cancel classes for Friday, February 25.

Because of the fallen tree, the main exit from campus was blocked off with cones and traffic was redirected through what, under normal circumstances, is an entrance only.

Newer residence halls, such as Chase and the buildings on the hill, were fully lit by generators, but the HUD dorms were completely dark. Students living in road halls were re-located.

“We want to make sure all the dorms have heat and fire alarms,” said Cherry.

In addition to the tree by the chapel, a second tree fell on the Emery side of Jenks, breaking a fourth floor window and gouging the bricks. Some of the trunk has been cleared, but the ground is still littered with debris and one branch settled on the roof. Another tree fell in front of Frost. Three more went down beside the road that goes past Drew Hall.

The wind ripped the front right door off the chapel, exposing live wires that officials have since shut off. But most mysteriously of all, a chunk of the public safety building now lies in the middle of the school’s main entrance. No trees fell in the vicinity. “It’s like the wind just ripped a chunk of stone off the building and hurled it into the street,” said one officer.

The blackout brought out the best and worst of students. Some halls used it as an excuse to bond: students in Ferrin had homework parties in the generator-lit hallways and played games in the first floor lobby. Others went puddle jumping and streaking. One account even said that students were looting the dining hall, although this has not been confirmed. Apparently Go-Co students can get away with anything in a crisis, and those of us who are smart realized this and took full advantage. I'm not one of the smart ones.

This guy I befriended during my sleuthing adventure summed it up as poetically as he was able at 2:30AM, after a night that most of Go-Co will find hard to forget: “The wind came through, the trees came down, the cones went up, and the pants went down.”

Now I am going back to sleep, since I got about four hours before rushing out to the only place I could think of with WiFi to break the story to the school paper. In retrospect my mad dash here was pointless because no one on campus has the Internet to read the story anyway and most of the damage is pretty self-evident. It was also poorly thought out because Panera would have been open by now and their wireless doesn't cost money...

Excavations of Claymore: The Fighting Scot (a reconsideration)

2010-02-25T20:03:00.003-05:00

At Michael's request, I returned to give the Fighting Scot a second chance (because God gives second chances, and so should we!) At first sip I felt the same as before, but at some point during the cold, windy, rainy walk back to Ferrin, the little sucker sucked me in. I sucked it down in about 5 minutes, which is an all-time coffee-drinking record for me since I usually burn my tongue.

You can taste the butterscotch if it's made right. Or rather, the Irish Creme doesn't rape your taste buds if it's made right. I might even go so far as to say that the Fighting Scot is now one of my favorite drinks. As is the case with most Claymore drinks, you just need to go to the right barista.

On the down side, I will now be unable to sleep until at least 2AM, and I think I will be hard pressed to find anyone who wants to have a dance party at such an hour. Instead I will watch the second season of Pokemon on Hulu.

So the morals of the story are as follows: 1) Go to Michael for your Fighting Scot needs, 2) plan the dance party before you down the magic caffeine potion, and 3) Pokemon is awesome.

Peace, love, and Pikachu,
Miss Rex

P.S. I'll be trying the Long Islander next - "chai with a hint of tiramisu!" Om nom nom.

Excavations of Claymore: The Fighting Scot

2010-02-22T10:00:00.000-05:00

Thanks for your ~~words of affirmation and love~~ votes! The Fighting Scot got the most this week. For those of you who had no idea what a Fighting Scot might be, let me begin by saying that the seductively snarling lion-thing known as a fighting scot (pictured below) is our mascot. I'll let you decide which is mightier, the drink or the athletes. Or the lion-thing.

Have you ever seen a Punnett Square? Scientists use them to predict the outcome of cross-breeding experiments. Since some genes are dominant and others recessive, some are more likely to be expressed while their counterparts are repressed. Henceforth we are going to discuss the Fighting Scot in scientific terms.

The gene in question is the flavor gene. Today we'll be cross-breeding Irish creme and butterscotch. Remember that each parent brings two genes to the table. Since we have here pure Irish creme, which expresses a dominant trait, and pure butterscotch, which displays a recessive one, we'll be crossing FF and ff. The Punnett Square might look like this:

As you can see, the dominant (Irish creme) gene is present in all possible combinations of the two, meaning it is always expressed, while the butterscotch is always repressed.

Conclusion: The Fighting Scot tastes like Irish creme 100% of the time and butterscotch 0% of the time.

I came into this with an open mind, I really did. I know I don't like Irish creme but I gave it a fair shot. "Butterscotch is pretty strong," I said. "It'll balance out." But it just didn't work for me. (Well... the foam was really good. =P) I know The Addict likes her coffee dark and earthy, so if that's your thing you'll probably get on well with tonight's science experiment.

Sorry, Fighting Scot. I hope there are no hard feelings between us. I'd hate for you to be bitter.

OH WAIT, you already are!

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Cast your vote for the next Claymore drink of the week! I know a couple people said the Irish Dream sounded good, but I need a week off from the Irish creme, so let's pick a different one this time, 'k?

Cooney-Cooney
Almond Joy
Cherry Cordial
Caramello
Prickly Cactus
English Challenge
Rasp-LIMErry Fizz (clearly NOT coffee)
The Long Islander
Irish Dream
The Perfect Cap
The Orange Real
Tarzan & Jane
Platelet's Perfection
Kyle Lincoln
The Shortstack Chai
Fiona's Wicked Minty Apple Cider
Michelini

Sandy Claws

2010-02-17T19:09:00.006-05:00

Wouldn't it be nice if there was a summertime equivalent of Santa Claus? You could send the jolly man in red (that's sunburn red) your wish list, and just like magic, you'd wake up one morning to find that everything was amazing! Maybe I'm just let down because the sky went and dumped a foot of snow on us yesterday when the grass was finally starting to show; now all I can think about is how much the suck-o-meter will go down once the temperature goes up.

Fabulous summer Santa, if you're out there somewhere, snowed in and bored with nothing to do until June, maybe you could get a head start on my wish list. Here are the top ten things I can't wait to do:

10. Buy new flats.
9. Rock the heart shaped sunglasses. (I'll admit I've already done this in spite of winter's dominating presence. You might call it a sun ritual... or denial.)
8. Drive with the windows down and the music loud. (All right, maybe I've cheated on this one a little, too. Spaz can testify.)
7. Go stargazing on the roof.
6. Get lost in the woods.
5. Eat ice creemz at Captain Dusty's.
4. Walk to classes barefoot.
3. Play ultimate frisbee on the quad... barefoot.
2. Take a nap in the sun.
1. Go skinny dipping in Gull Pond.

What's on your summer wish list?