I'm not really sure if this qualifies as steampunk, as the only, well, steampunk-y thing about it is the metal eye. I like to think, though, that it's actually a bunny-cyborg and it can use its eye to shoot laser beams and stuff. Perhaps with the combination of cute adorableness and a bronze death ray it could classify.
I guess, worst comes to worst, though, I could just call it Rainbow Cyborg Bunny. ...In all honesty, I think I like that name better.
I may like to shoot things with lasers, but at least I don't eat souls the way normal bunnies eat tasty carrots!
This might just be a shameless excuse to post more cat pictures, but truly - Glory really just loves to sit on whatever I am doing.
I also just wanted to assure everyone that I love cute things and appreciate cats and don't always just sit around and talk about old books and write weird songs. This is the normal internet thing to do, right? Put up obscene amounts of cat photos? Right?
This is actually Fetcher, but he is sitting on my leg and it is really cute.
This is Glory in her shameless attempts to sit on everything.
I'm on a table, I'm on a table, I'm on a table, yes I am.
Hm. What are you typing? Can I see? Is it about me?
I wrote a Christmas song! It has very, very little to do with Christmas, but I really want it to be a Christmas song. It does have references to snow, and snowy trees, and also there's a few lines that vaguely resemble "We Three Kings" (vaguely). So that qualifies it, right?
Seriously, though, I'm sick of all the kitschy secular songs, and all the songs with good chords and melodies are hymns. It's a shame. We need more people to write Christmas songs. Good ones, preferably. I'm looking at you, "All I Want for Christmas is You".
Wow I hate that song so much.
Truly, though, there's an absolute dearth of new Christmas songs, as evidenced by malls playing the same ones over and over and over and over until your ears bleed. This is a serious problem.
As usual, I apologize for terrible video quality, and also the off-key vocals. I'm still experimenting with precisely how the melody should go...so just listen to the pretty piano, okay? I'll probably fix this once I figure everything out.
Numbers 16. Yahweh kills 14,950 people. Fourteen thousand, seven hundred he kills by plague, and two hundred fifty he kills by burning them alive. The only reason he doesn't kill all the Israelites is because Moses and Aaron do some timely groveling, and some magic stuff with incense.
Yahweh starts chapter twenty-six by saying how he looks favorably upon the Israelites and doesn't despise them and will help them in battle and bless them and all that jazz. I was impressed upon reading this, because normally Yahweh just talks about how he hates everyone.
One paragraph later, and he graphically details for seven paragraphs the punishment he'll rain down on them if they ever spite him. There's the Yahweh we know and love!
If the Israelites ever disobey him, Yahweh will cause:
-wasting diseases and burning fevers "that will cause your eyes to fail and your life to ebb away."
-enemies to eat your crops
-you to be ruled by those you hate
-you to run even when no one is chasing you
-your land to yield no crops or fruit
-wild animals to eat your children and livestock
-armies to attack you
-the destruction of your food supply "so that ten women will only need one oven to bake bread for their families."
-you to eat the flesh of your own sons and daughters. -your lifeless bodies to be placed on top of your lifeless idols
-you to become scattered through all nations
-your children to be punished for your crimes as well! How sweet. I guess this is assuming your children weren't all eaten by wild animals or yourself?
Granted, he does finish up this diatribe with a little addendum that even while viciously torturing his people, he will not utterly reject or despise them because of that old covenant thing. Of course, I imagine his people might not find that ridiculously comforting while their eyes are falling out and they're starving to death.
I have a long standing battle against inane Facebook posts, as many of you know. I'd give it up if I didn't just love to disemvowel things.
How many times have we seen jokes playing of these exact words as said by a woman? Fifty? One hundred? Anyway, the joke's old. First off, it makes sweeping generalizations about the nature of female communication being passive-aggressive. I take offense at this, because I generally try to be very clear about my emotions and opinions, and I resent that some people think that because of my gender I must be highly trained in the art of verbal ambiguity. I also don't immediately expect people to know what I'm thinking based on vague and contradictory clues.
Secondly, I find it irritating that this little jpg isn't decrying mixed messages. It's not a commentary; it's a survival guide. It doesn't discourage such obnoxious behavior, but excuses it and makes it seem normal. As someone who values clear communication, this is wildly annoying. It's reinforcing detrimental stereotypes.
At long last, I am finally home. Five weeks of projects and planning and reading and piano playing ahead! Hell, I am so excited. I have great plans. I have Christmas presents to make, and songs to compose, and a story to write, and friends to see, and so much more! SO MANY PLANS IT WILL BE GREAT.
It isn't snowy currently, but hopefully it will soon enough. It's about time.
Dave picked me up at 9 am today, and we got donuts for breakfast and were on our way. The weather was clearer this morning, but the day today is still beautiful. I can see the pond out my window and it is black and green, and the grass is straw yellow.
Upon being home, I've been unpacking, playing the piano, paying a lot of attention to the cats, and finishing a Christmas present for a friend of mine. I'll put up pictures when it's done.
I've put my three filled journals since school began on my shelf with all my other ones, and it felt good.
I'm running out of room on my shelves for all of my books, note and otherwise.
No one has seen fit to clean my room since I've been gone, so I have also been dusting and vacuuming. It does feel like I've been gone, which I suppose is good, in a sense.
I have missed the cats. Even Glory when she becomes ridiculously engrossed in whatever I am doing and leans on my hands and walks on my keyboard.
So far, I've pretty much liked Cornell, but I think that perhaps study week is the most hellish, tormentive idea ever to grace the minds of the university administrators. I suppose it's sweet that they gave us extra time to study for finals...but, guess what? All year I've been studying for prelims while classes have been in session. Finals are...not that much worse. Look, sure, the last week of classes would be a bit trickier and more stressful, but guess what? Then it would be over, and I could go home, and would not be stuck here contemplating the dull, existential horror that is another week here, doing nothing, just waiting to take tests. Have they contemplated that the reason Study Week is nicknamed Dead Week is because this is when everyone jumps off of bridges?
I feel as though I am slowly losing my mind. Fortunately, this is a familiar feeling so I'm going to be just fine, but I've been entertaining the notion that this is some kind of purgatory designed to...I'm not sure. Punish me for being an academic? That doesn't seem right, but good hell, I hate these weeks. I hate these weeks more than I hate dry cake and long lines. I hate them more than...one decinazi. At least, because this is personal.
Seriously, though, this is why Cornell needs nets on its bridges.
Study week is a week they have here, before finals start, to allow everyone to properly dread and fear finals for a stupidly long time! All of my finals, also, are next week, giving me approximately nine days to study and panic.
This is obviously far too much time for my relatively easy workload and extreme distractability, so therefore, I've had to find other ways to occupy my time so I don't lose my mind. These have included:
-finishing the television series Avatar: The Last Airbender
-working on my NaNoWriTimeperiod book
-getting distracted by animals I find when I go running
-staring blankly at my stats textbook
-staring blankly at all my other notes
-surfing the internet
-compulsively checking Facebook to feed my novelty addiction. (I'm not proud of this).
-thinking about what color dragon I would have if I were a Dragon Rider
-wishing I had a dragon
-justifying not doing work to myself
-complaining how boring everything is
-wishing I could teleport
-wishing I could control coefficients of friction
-making great plans and failing to accomplish them
-writing on my blog about all the work I'm not doing
Hell, I hate study week. I just want to take these tests and go home.
Here's a fun story from spring of this year that I didn't publish because I felt bad that I tried to traumatize a child and then failed and looked stupid. Fortunately, I'm over that embarrassment now. I'm not sure if it's because I got a sense of perspective on just how annoying bus children are, or if I no longer care that I tried to traumatize a child. Hm. Questions, questions.
Ever read William Golding's Lord of the Flies? Riding a school bus is like that. Sure, there's the bus driver up front, but what power do they really have? They're watching the road and preventing us from crashing. They may look back in their mirror and shout something, but on a scale of effective discipline, that rates about a 3/10. (10 is jail; 1 is cake.) So, really, for all intents and purposes, the bus is the realm of the island, where children run wild, and where human nature's true savagery is exposed. They climb over and under seats, sing songs, pick their noses, shout psychologically damaging things at each other... It's terrifying.
The older kids are even worse. Without restraints, there's nothing stopping them from...being complete jerks, mostly. And really annoying.
"C", a sixth grader, is always asking me to be his best friend (insincerely, and with the hope to tick me off enough to be entertaining). This resulted because once or twice I fed the troll and snapped at the little demon. Now he's like a dog with a bone - a very obnoxious, mocking dog with a penchant for being relentlessly annoying. Yeah, not a great metaphor. Moving on.
I definitely fed the troll in this encounter. The trouble was that I had been forced to listen to squabbling, asinine underclassmen for 30 minutes and my patience was wearing very, very thin, and with it, my good judgment and restraint.
C: Hey, Maddie, best friend, do you have a tic tac? [No, his remarks are never made in any context.]
Me: No. I do not have a tic tac. Even if I had one, I would not give you a tic tac, because you are annoying, and we are not friends.
C: Hey, guys, did you hear? Maddie and I are best friends. Maddie, aren't we best friends?
Me: No. We are not friends.
C: Guys, Maddie and I are best friends. Can't we best friends, Maddie?
Me: No. We are not friends.
C: So, we're best friends, right?
Me: No. Friends, and not-friends are two different categories. Best friends is a subset of friends. We are in the not-friends column.
C: We're totally best friends. We're even more than just best friends, right, Maddie?
Me: [patience wearing very thin] [in as sinister a voice as I could manage] Sure, C. We're beyond best friends, in that very special category of friends where I gouge out your eyes, throw you down a deep, dark well, and seal it off so no one can hear you scream.
C: [completely unfazed] So, we're totally best friends. Guys, did you hear? Maddie and I are best friends.
Me: You have a very sick and twisted definition of best friend.
C: Come on, we're best friends. Just say we're best friends, then I'll leave you alone.
Me: [to the bus driver] The best thing about graduating is going to be not riding the bus.
This. Close. To. Strangling. A. Child.
Every day since I made the above remark to the bus driver, she's said, "Just 8more weeks, hon." I'm really glad we've established a rapport over hating children.