On a more random note...

I stole this from Jen's blog. I'm pathetically in love with memes.

One Word Survey

1. Where is your cell phone? table
2. Your significant other? theoretical
3Your hair? blonde
4Your mother? bed
5. Your father? office
6. Your favorite thing? sleep
7. Your dream last night? unremarkable
8 Your favorite drink? julius
9. Your dream/goal? travel
10. The room you’re in? porch
11. Your hobby? reading
12. Your fear? unemployment
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? alive
14. What you’re not? optimistic
15. Muffins? corn
16. One of your wish list items? job
17. Where you grew up? PA
. The last thing you did? whined
19. What are you wearing? shirt
20. Favorite Gadget? laptop
Your pets? parakeet
22. Your computer? Toshiba
23. Your mood? despairing
24. Missing someone? nope
25. Your car? theoretical
26. Something you’re not wearing? glasses
27. Favorite store? Borders
28. Like someone? nope
29. Your favorite color? blue
30. When is the last time you laughed? today
31. Last time you cried? today

Open to anybody.

K.

Scattered Thoughts: The Depths of Despair Edition

• I talked with Time today-- they don't have an opening for me. Mom insists that this doesn't mean that they don't want me, but it doesn't make me less depressed over it.

• Dad has made it quite clear that he does not approve of the India thing, which is an issue if I get sick/arrested/blown up/sold into slavery over there. No support network. Well, it hardly matters-- they have written back to me either.

• Sending out resumes into the void of internet job postings is a thankless task. It's like you just... disappear.

• I have to clear out my apartment tomorrow. :(

Life recently = booooo.

K.

Dad: Making me just a little more paranoid, one comment at a time

India called today.

I'm not sure what I was expecting-- it was really just an exploratory interview over the phone. Luckily, my one fear did not come to pass: that the interviewer's accent would make nearly impossible to hold a conversation. Her amazing English allowed me to escaped sounding like a mouth-breathing doofus. This time, anyway.

I explained the job to my parents afterwards. My dad gave me a look.

"Couldn't you just do that from the US? Like, over the computer?"

"I guess. But then they would have to pay me American wages."

"Kate, you're going to laugh when I say this, but I'm quite serious."

"Hmm?"

"You need to check this out to make sure it isn't white slavery."

??!!!

So, what am I supposed to do? Call my interviewer back up and ask her very nicely if I'm signing up to be put into bondage and would she please be honest with me about it?

Seriously, New York jobs that I have applied for, call me back. It would make life so much easier.

K.

Huh?

Holy crap, India just contacted me to have a first round of interviews. Over the phone.

I can't understand accents over the phone. :(

K.

PS. I also just told my mom about this interview thing and she got this really tight-lipped expression on her face. Not good.

Yeeowch!

My mom is pretty awesome. She crochets cacti.

They're actually kinda cool. From way back, they look real.

I have one like the item pictured above on my mantel at school. People think it's real all the time-- 'til they touch it.



I don't mean to pimp my mother's Etsy site or anything, but I will, mostly because I've been sewing on those little flowers for her. I would kinda like to see her succeed.

So if you like 'em, head on over to blazingneedle's Etsy site and give her stuff a look over.

Ta!

K.

If only this would actually happen

A meme from Gwyn.

You are in a mall when the zombies attack. You have:
1. One weapon.
2. One song blasting on the speakers.
3. One famous person to fight alongside you.

Weapon can be real or fictional; you may assume endless ammo if applicable. Person can be real or fictional.

Right, okay.

1) The OCD flash grenade. Zombies have a pretty shambling pace anyway-- it would take them that much longer to get to me if they have to touch each wall three times or avoid cracks in the floor.

2) "Sinner Man" Nina Simone

3) Avner from Munich. It would make things pretty angsty, but those zombies would be obliterated.

K.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I just applied for a job in India. Please don't kill me.

You see, it's like it was made for me. They actually want a English/literature major who can work with international co-workers all while editing in both American and British English. I've done all of that.

Granted, this company has something to do with finances and I don't know a thing about that (much like I don't know anything about shoes), but knowledge of the financial world was optional, you see.

I'm kinda hoping that they'll call me.

Sorry?

K.

What do you do with a BA in English?

Find a part-time job until you actually get hired in some interesting career, obviously.

On my first day of my first ever time seriously looking into retail as employment, I stumbled into a position and got hired. In the shoe department.

I don't know anything about shoes, but I'll be getting medical insurance and a 20% discount while I figure it out.

K.

PS. I have to change the wording of my banner-- I'm barely a college student anymore. No degree until August, true, but what's a month or two?

I love the BBC...

...because they make the best period costume dramas. And they always have some random British actor that I know from somewhere, but can't place. I was watching North & South today and had that same deja vu feeling with Richard Armitage, which is odd because I usually have a keen memory for good-looking men. Anyway, here's a link to the video. Watch it-- it's romantic.

That's really all I had to say. Not really much of a post, is it?

K.

Scattered Thoughts: The "I'm in Israel-- but I stole my father's computer" edition

• As I mentioned before-- travelling with my family is a bad idea. I'm spoiled and used to my relative freedom when I roam alone. This almost feels like I'm being held hostage to everyone else, especially my dad, who halts everything in order to engage in hour-long business calls.

• The upside is that we benefit from all of those business calls. We're testing out a hotel in Jerusalem for Dad's NATO conference in December, taking private Krav Maga lessons, engaging a tourguide who works for the company (and also used to be a colonol in center city Jerusalem's police force). Exciting things.

• I'm getting back into the swing of Israel and it all reminds me of why I like it so much here. The people, the weather, etc.

• Jerusalem was exciting. We ended up doing things that were strictly taboo on Birthright trips and with my Dad's overprotective business partner. The winding market streets of the Arab Quarter were especially interesting, mostly for their slight air of menace. Still, it could be my imagination-- we did get pastries from a pleasant old Arab man who wrestled our empty water bottles away from us in order to fill them. No menace there. Dad says that there are many in that Quarter who just want to live in peace, yet others would probably be pretty damn excited to see Israel fall. And yes, I could see that for myself in some of the really pro-Palestinian souveniers in the marketplace. It was easier to breathe in the Christian Quarter where the streets were less narrow and people didn't stare. A bagel salesman, who I believe was a Christian Arab, offered me 40 thousand camels and a donkey for my hand in marriage. Cheeky. Thinking about it later, I realized that those camels (and donkey) would be a dowry and going directly to my parents, leaving me and the bagel guy sans a significant number of camels. Is it just me or would that make me poorer in the long run?

• I have to say that it wasn't only the Arab Quarter that made me feel awkward. There were so many Orthodox Jews around my hotel that I felt odd stepping out on the street, even when I was wearing a rather modest pair of shorts and long-sleeved hoodie. I have a feeling that it's easier to be secular outside of Jerusalem.

• Yesterday was spent at Masada and the Dead Sea. Not much to report other than I was sitting at the Northern Palace on Masada for about an hour and forty minutes, in which time Americans thought I was both a local and a Frenchwoman.

• Currently sitting in hotel room in Nahariyya after a day in Caesaria. We ate while watching the Med pounding the shore, trying to decide what these loud explosion-like sounds were. The rest of us settled on the waves slamming into the jetty, but Dad wasn't convinced. Hailing over our tired-looking waitress, he proceeded to ask if that noise had been caused by waves. She gave him the most withering look I have ever seen and replied, "Yes. We are not being bombed, sir." With that, she sulked away. In her defense, she's probably asked by panicky tourists all the time whether the resort is being bombed. In our defense, we asked her if those noises were made by waves. I don't think we said anything about bombs.

• My Hebrew-English phrasebook has this entry: "Have you been tested for AIDS?" I wonder how many times that's been used.

• There's a wedding singer in the courtyard below, crooning some Hebrew melodies. I was just able to ignore him when he busted out "I Love You Just the Way You Are." Can't go wrong with a little Billy.

• This was a bad entry, but I'm tired, burned, and hungry. :(

K.

• PS. Cancer, leave Paul Newman alone!!!!

Scattered Thoughts: Umm...

• Going to Israel tomorrow. Not packed and just irritated my parents, who I will be traveling with for ten days. And this is why I travel alone.

• I drove to WC again today and saw my turtle along the side of the road. He seems to be two-dimensional now, which is sad.

• Oh hey, so you know how I was, like, the last person alive who hadn't seen Ironman? Well, finally saw it and wow! May I be first in line to welcome the Robert Downey Jr revolution?

• People seemed bent on getting themselves killed while I was driving home today. One Amish man, one Mennonite woman, and two idiots decided that it would be a good idea to wander near the road without any reflective gear whatsoever. I'm sure that it wasn't a coordinated effort because they were miles and a river apart, but hey. Stop it.

• This was a useless entry and I'm not even sure why I wrote it.

K.

Me? A Published Poet?

Yeah, okay, it's not The New Yorker, but it's a start.

The Swarthmore Literary Review. Scroll down to "The Kimono." That's mine.

K.

Dear Robert Downey Jr,

You don't know me and you shouldn't, 'cause that's just weird. But I've had some thoughts about you lately that I thought I would share.

See, before two years ago, the most I knew about you is that you were a bit of a druggie (am I understating this?). That's all that really mattered to me. I grew up in a pretty straight-laced household, you see, so I didn't hold with those shenanigans. Then you fell off the radar and I forgot about you.

Until a couple years ago when you made my day.

You see, I was pledging for my honors/service co-ed fraternity (stick with me here) and had volunteered to do something that made me very uncomfortable. I hate admitting this because it makes me seem like an insensitive monster, but I'm very awkward around the developmentally challenged (am I being PC here?). I want to treat them with respect, but I worry that I may treat them too much like an adult or too much like a child. My nervousness stems from the most beneficent of sources, believe me. I want to be able to make their lives better but am at a loss as to how.

Anyway, for some reason, I ended up volunteering to help out at the ARC. It was definitely against type, but without more participation, the day would have fallen flat for those kids. Didn't want that on my soul. So I went to what turned out to be a movie day. And what movie did we end up seeing?

Yep, The Shaggy Dog. The last movie I had ever wanted to see.

And it wasn't because it was a kid's film. Please. I worked at a camp at the time-- you can't be a counselor without having an appreciation for kiddie movies. No, it's the movie poster (click on the link-- if you dare). I'm sure that you've seen this, sir. The cute dog, the wet nose, THE EYES OF DOOM!!!

No, sir, I can't stand human eyes on animals. It's the creepiest thing I have ever seen. That, more than anything, made me cry a little inside as we approached the theater, me clutching the hand of my assigned child, who looked blissfully unaware of the demonic force we were about to encounter.

It also didn't help that-- you're wondering where you come into this, I know, but stick with me-- the movie was bad. Just terrible. The bacteria in my stomach could have written a better script than that. Ugh. The kids seemed to like it, though, so I slouched into my seat, growing more depressed by the second, when-- like a heavenly ray of light-- you appeared on the screen.

I'm going to admit, my first thought when I saw you was, "Holy crap, he's alive?!" Not the most promising start. But you delivered the most deliciously evil performance of a scientist gone mad with power that I had ever seen and stole the show. Now, I might have been so glum that a pratfall on a banana peel would have cheered me up, but you went farther than that. It's ridiculous to say it, but because of you, I managed to cheerfully make it through the day. The rest of those memories from that event are fond ones mostly because my attitude had improved.

Now, it's fickle for me to say it, but I promptly forgot about that day, much like a man who promises G-d to donate half of his income to charity if only he is able to keep his job, then when everything is sunny again, is too distracted by everyday minutia to perform the task. (That was a long sentence.) But a part of me remembered, waiting to resurface.

And, lo, it has! You're back on the map, apparently healthy, and armed with a sense of humor about your darker days. I'm not blowing smoke up your ass when I say that I am genuinely pleased for you. Please don't blow it.

Oh, and call me. There are few men that I find attractive with facial hair, so I have to take advantage of this.

<3 K.

PS. Loved this video.

Scattered Thoughts: Reasons Why This Day Sucked

• I woke up at 4 AM. Enough said.

• I was driving along Rt 30 towards West Chester when I saw stuff animals scattered about the roadway. It looked like a plushie massacre. Normally I would be amused by this, but I kept wondering if these animals were meant for someone. Plus, there's something deep inside of me that says stuffed animals have feelings. I'm sentimental.

• After the stuffed animals, I was cruising down Rt 100 when I saw a turtle at the side of the road, holding his head high and lifting his leg to step into the busy highway. The next thing I knew I was pulled over about 200 yards away, speed-walking down the emergency shoulder of the road, eighteen-wheelers screaming by me, hurrying towards that little animal about the make a big mistake. Unfortunately, I got there too late. I suppose what really got me was how confident that turtle looked as he began his great adventure. The further I get from the event, the sadder I feel. I wouldn't be surprised if I cried myself to sleep over one naive animal. (One thing that made me laugh in spite of myself: I described how the turtle's blood looked on the pavement to my friend Jen-- thick, like scarlet acrylic paint. Ever the the sensitive type, she exclaimed: "So that's how they get red paint! They squeeze it out of turtles!" Evil.)

• I parked in the spot that Jen directed me to in her apartment's parking lot-- a spot that is actually hers. Yet, when I came out a few hours later, someone had left a note calling me a "shithead" with a rather elementary illustration on it. Sorry? I think the polite thing to do would have been to ask me to move, which I probably would have done, whether I had a right to the spot or not. I fear for the future if this is the level of discourse I have to deal with in the real world. I think I might laugh about this tomorrow.

Granted, it's not like someone physically hit me or I lost a family member or something. It's just that some days suck more than others. And this one suuuuuuuuuucked.

Here's hoping for better ones!

K.