Answers

At last, the answer blog has arrived! As previously mentioned, I love filling out surveys. Add to that my love for those silly email and facebook memes (AKA the "ipod shuffle" and "everything you ever wanted to know about me" and the "25 things you didn't really care about me, but that I'm going to tell you anyways because I'm just that bored/self-obsessed") and this project is perfect for me.

So here goes: the answers to all your questions.

1. My favorite Beatles song.

I'll turn to itunes for the answer to this. According to my play count, my favorite song by far is "Come Together." I think that's kind of misleading. It's true that I like that song a lot (I mean, whenever anyone says the phrase "come together," a whole room of people automatically sing "right noooow.....over me." That's completely perfect!), but it's so standard Beatles. So, for a song that maybe not everyone has heard, but that I love, I'll go with "For You Blue." It's got that bluesy feel, written by George with John playing steel guitar. Nothing better.

2. What I would do if the sky was falling.

Probably freak out. I have a sneaky suspicion that I would not react rationally or bravely at all in a dire situation. I could make this great and detailed and logical plan now, but when it came down to it, I would totally panic as I imagine the majority of people would.

In 10th grade Honors English we were reading something and examining moral dilemmas. One of them was, "You are driving in the middle of the night and pull over to a rest stop. Inside you see a person being threatened at gunpoint by another person. There are no payphones and you do not have a cell phone with you. What do you do?" About half the class said they would go in and confront the situation, reasoning with the gunman or using force. I said I would run the heck away. I'll pull over the next place and call, but holy crap I'm getting out of there first. I have a healthy self-preservational instinct and no secret ninja skills that I know of, so I would totally panic. Don't lie, you know you would too.

3. A fictional character I would bring to life.

This is hard, because there are so many characters I love. If I'm feeling magnanimous and not self-serving, I think I'd go for Superman, because he could, you know, do a lot to stop crime and save humanity and such. But I have a hunch that superheroes would just be more trouble than they're worth in the real world, so I going to be completely self-serving with my choice.

Mr. Darcy. Definitely. Especially if he's the Colin Firth version.

4. My favorite names.

Pets should always be named after real people and/or literary figures. Particularly Shakespeare characters. Othello and Benedick and Oberon.

I would name babies like this, too, if I wasn't concerned for the possible playground teasing. I mean, Benedick? That would not turn out well. Although they could just call him Ben and not tell any of the other kids the rest of it. I've always had a fascination with the name Owen for a boy--maybe Daniel Owen. Has a nice ring to it. For girls? I'm partial to Nora, partly because I loved the book "Noisy Nora" when I was little.

5. Pets.

I am cursed with terrible allergies, so pets have always been iffy. When I was really small, we had a golden retriever named Star who I apparently loved, but we had to give him away when we moved. I was 1, so I really don't remember him that well. Then I had a handful of goldfish won at the county fair. None of them made a real impression. I had a gerbil at one point, named Tamora (after my favorite author, Tamora Pierce). She was cute and fun to play with, but smelled something awful.

My favorite pet was a cat (and yes, I'm horrendously allergic to cats, but he pretty much stayed outdoors) named Cosmo. He was friendly and smart and looked both ways when he crossed the street and was fantastic at keeping away the mice and squirrels.

6. Favorite kind of tree.

I'm going for birch here. They're stately, and the bark makes good paper/craft/canoe-making material.

7. Favorite ice cream.

Ouch. This one is a stumper. I live in Wisconsin, the dairy state. I go to UW-Madison, home to Babcock Dairy, which makes it's own wonderful ice cream sold all over campus. Hmmm.

I can tell you a flavor I don't like. Blue Moon. It's a Wisconsin specialty that most people, even those from the Midwest, have never heard of. But it's gross--it's blue (obviously) and tastes like fruit loops (froot loops?). Which is absolutely disgusting. Unless you think fruit loop ice cream sounds appetizing.

I'll take anything chocolate-y. The more cookie chunks and fudge ripple the better. In face, the Chocolate Shoppe (an ice cream chain) has a flavor called Heaps of Love that has basically everything. Chocolate chips, cookie dough, oreo chunks, peanut butter cups, caramel, pecans, etc. That's my favorite.

8. Farthest I've been from home.

I love traveling. My goal in life is to marry/inherit wealth and spend the rest of my life traveling the world. Up till now, I have been to 43 states and 12 countries (including the good ol' US of A).

So, the farthest by mileage is Berlin. 4,433 miles (7,133 km) from my hometown of Dodgeville, WI. Honolulu is a close 2nd at 4,120 miles, and the furthest south I've been is San Jose, Costa Rica (2,315 miles).

9. My family.

I live with both my parents. My dad is an attorney, working to get benefits for people who are disabled and can no longer work. My mom stayed home through my childhood, and volunteers everywhere in our community. She also does some day care. I'm an only child, but that doesn't mean I grew up alone. My parents are foster parents, so we often had other kids in the house. My foster sister, Sarah, lived with us for 8 years. I have a sister, Steffi, from Germany who lived with us for a year and has visited several times since then (and we have gone to visit her!). My "sister," Emma is the daughter of someone who worked at the foster service when I was little, and my mom babysat her during the day. We practically grew up together since I was 2. She's still my best friend today!

10. Best movies in my obsessive note-taking grading system.

I started keeping a notebook with all the movies I watch about a year and a half ago. Since February 1, 2008, I've watched 118 movies. That may seem like a lot, or maybe not that many to you, but that's just the new movies I watch. This only includes movies I watch for the first time, not the numerous favorites I rewatch over and over again! In this notebook, I include the title, the date, an A-through-F rating, and notes about who I watched it with, what I particularly (dis)liked, etc.

All the movies probably average a low B or high C, and few earn top grades. Some that have gotten a coveted "A" rating: "Once," "Sweet Land," "Longford," "Wristcutters: A Love Story," "Persepolis," and "Slumdog Millionaire." These movies surprised me, touched me, and stuck in my memory! And one of the worst movies I watched and reviewed? "Sydney White," and I quote (myself), "for the most part vapid, insipid and annoying update of Snow White." D-

Thanks for the questions. I had fun answering them! I'm sad to see BEDA go, because it's been something that kept me writing and helped me meet a couple great people through their blogs. I don't know what my blog will become now, but I hope I can do something like this again.

Cheers.

Tomorrow

I feel like my blogs have become very repetitive lately, but I suppose that's due in part to my life being rather repetitive. I worry and work and then waste more time worrying.

But tomorrow is my last day of BEDA to complete the question blog. It will get done. And it's kind of cool, introducing oneself at the end of a project rather than at the beginning. Hopefully you've gleaned a bit about me out of what I've said this month, and now tomorrow I get to tell you about me. Just the facts, ma'am! Looking forward to it, not so much the stress of trying to throw together a paper.

Korean

The end of the semester hit me like a brick wall to the face. A brick wall with a seriously scary left hook. And brass knuckles. I did not realize that I had so much stuff to finish this week.

I'm freaking out! I have not yet progressed into the hyperventilating stage. That will probably come tomorrow. But that is why I am backing out once again from the question blog today. I have a midterm in Korean tomorrow morning that is really stressing me out (The vocabulary I have to know includes words for "to be malfunctioning" and "to be startled suddenly." Are you kidding me? I'm pretty sure those never came up in class, nor will they ever be useful in a conversation. Ever. "Excuse me? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you suddenly, but my watch seems to be malfunctioning. Do you have the time?")

Grr. Plus that 5-page paper due Friday is still only 1/2 page long. And finals are looming on the horizon, ready to claw my sanity to shreds.

Had the last practice for band tonight. Our concert is on Sunday. The director was trying to get us to imbue our rehearsal with passion, while he sat and was lazy and seemed tired the whole time. Not very encouraging.

It was great to read Cara's answers to the questions. And made me feel a little bad for not getting to them yet, but I swear I will. I'm looking forward to it! It's a little sad that BEDA's almost over already, but I will still have buddy blogs to read and maybe some more incentive to write regularly!

I must immerse myself in the world of Korean now in the attempt to pass my test tomorrow. So I end with a short lesson:

안녕하세요 (ahn-nyong-ha-say-o) = hello
헤더 (hay-daw) = Heather
카라 (kah-rah) = Cara
케틀린 (this one was harder: kay-tul-leen) = Kaitlyn

잘 자를 보내십시오! (Have a good night!)

Castle

I just watched the new Castle episode. Fantastic. I love Nathan Fillion so much. The perfect mix of sweet and sardonic. And handsome. I just realized that the first thing I probably saw him in was the movie Waitress. But it's weird, because at that point I don't think I knew who he was, so I just figured that out a little while ago.

Does that happen to you? Where some big star is in something you saw before they were a big star, so you never make the connection? And then you go back and watch it again and go, "Oh my god, he was in this?"

Like did you remember that Vince Vaughn is in the movie Rudy? Paul Rudd? The adorable guy in Clueless. Craig Ferguson is totally the boss on the Drew Carey Show. And Matt Damon is in that movie that they show on FOX all the time, Mystic Pizza. I didn't know who the heck he was the first time I saw that movie. (If you need more fun...http://www.cracked.com/article_14876_before-they-were-famous-10-most-regrettable-celebrity-commercials.html)

Anywho...I absolutely adore Nathan Fillion now, and can go back and love his roles in things I saw before I knew who he was. (Like, he was in Saving Private Ryan! Really, Wikipedia? Now I have to go back and find that.) And Castle rocks my stockings. Really. I love a good, witty show. ..........with Nathan Fillion.

I just got totally distracted for far too long watching clips of Nathan in interviews and such on Youtube. So this blog is going to be late. Dang it.

This has been a fabulous way to avoid doing any work whatsoever on my paper, which is due in less than 3 1/2 days now. Good lord, that's coming up fast. If I average 2 pages a day, I'll be fine!

I swear, answers to all your fabulous questions are still coming! I still have 3 days of blogging before April's over and B(PLFT)EDM is upon us.

Blog-Probably-Less-Frequently-Than-Every-Day-May.

Mutha'uckas

I went to the Flight of the Conchords concert tonight. And left thinking that I can die happy now. It was absolutely one of the best times of my life.

The theater was packed. Everyone, including yours truly, was decked out in FotC merchandise and waiting for their favorite songs. Everyone watched the show and knew the jokes and sang along. It was fantastic. And somehow it made me a little sad.

You know the feeling? When you find something fantastic that no one else knows about and have like this secret ownership of the best thing in the world? Well that's what I had with this band. I discovered them a few months before their TV show started, just by finding random videos online. No one I knew had ever heard of them before. For a while they were mine. My amazing private amusement, which I could share with whomever I deemed worthy.

And then they hit it big. The TV show was fantastic, gained a cult following, and then a bigger cult following. They toured and sold t-shirts and started getting quoted by SportsCenter anchors (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--Mq8apGj_8). While I know this is great for the band, and I'm glad that people will now understand my references, I still feel like I lost something personal. Like they no longer belong to me, and I am forced to relinquish them to every Joe Schmo out there. (I mean, SportsCenter? Really? Come on.)

Ah, well. Perhaps I'm being silly. Because they're really fantastic. And they totally deserve recognition for their incredible talent. So, if you haven't found them on Youtube, or watched their HBO show, I highly recommend you check them out now!

I guess it just felt good to be ahead of the trend. Questions answered later this week.

BEODA

It seems like I've kind of, accidentally, unwillingly turned this into Blog Every Other Day April. I'm working on it, I swear! Thanks for all your questions and comments, buddies!

Unfortunately, I have a massive headache and am putting myself to bed early tonight since I can't seem to get rid of it any other way. I feel like I get headaches way too often. Part of that might be that as a vegetarian, I tend to be anemic, which causes migraines. I do take an iron supplement, or at least I'm supposed to, every day, but I forget a lot. You'd think the pain would help me remember.

Sorry this isn't longer. Staring at the computer is giving me some serious brain pain. Keep asking questions if you have them, and I will answer them very soon.

Quirk

I'm continuing Cara's question idea by asking you all to ask me questions (as many or as few) as you see fit.

I like answering questions. People think it's strange that I like taxes. Not the losing some of my money part, but the filling out the forms part. I always have. Like those random surveys that used to come in the mail. My parents would just toss them, but I'd always fill them out first. Something about answering the questions and filling in the blanks is just fun.

I like quizzes, too. I guess that's pretty strange. But I set myself goals to learn stupid things--the names and locations of every country in Africa, or the order of the order of the presidents. And then I quiz myself relentlessly until it's in my head. As a consequence I know all sorts of totally random, un-useful things.

And I have a good memory, which exacerbates the problem. I unwillingly remember the names of scores of celebrities. Pointless scientific studies I've read. The details of almost every book and movie I've seen. It's amazing that my brain isn't crammed completely full by now.

Anyways, I really don't have anything interesting to say today. Went out to Noodles & Co for a delicious pesto dinner, with a Chocolate Shoppe ice cream chaser. Failed to do my Econ homework. Ah, well. I didn't pay attention in lecture, so there's no way I know how to do it anyways. The end of the semester is hard--I can't focus, much less motivate myself to do anything.

Soon it will be summer and I can get back to memorizing the order of the British monarchs.

Stars

I'm 19 now. So far it seems basically like 18. When did birthdays stop being so exciting? I remember my 11th birthday was a surprise party, and that was dang phenomenal. Since then, the aging process has not been nearly as fun or felt as significant. That's probably a bad sign if I've hit that point already.

Otherwise, there's not too much interesting going on in my life. I'm busy, per usual. Finals are coming up in a couple weeks, which is seriously putting strain on my schedule. Papers, final projects, tests--it all adds up to not much fun time. Which is a bummer. You know how long it's been since I had time to watch a movie? (And I'm a hardcore movie person. No, really. I keep a log of every movie I see, the date I see it, a letter grade, and any pertinent notes. I think that before college I was averaging a movie every 2 days.) It's been 2 1/2 weeks. And I haven't finished a book solely for pleasure in a month.

I am sneaking some fun in, though. I hung out with some friends for my birthday yesterday and ate birthday apple pie. This weekend I'm going to see a few more friends and head to a couple super-awesome concerts (OK Go and Flight of the Conchords anybody?).

And tonight I went stargazing. This was originally just to help friends out with their Astronomy project. But it ended up as a great way to spend an hour and a half. We walked out along the lake to Picnic Point just after dark (with sufficient flashlights/rape whistles, don't worry) and found constellations and just enjoyed the peacefulness of a spring night.

I did the same thing the night of my high school graduation party. I had friends spending the night after the festivities ended, and we decided to pile in a car and head out on a remote country road for prime star-viewing territory. We parked, lied on top of the car and just lost ourselves in the stars for an hour. It's a great time to talk, and it's a strangely existential experience. If you can find somewhere that's so perfectly dark that you can see thousands of stars, you start to get this sense of the bigness of the universe, but realize that you have your small, vital role to play. Rather than overwhelming, it made me feel more connected and content.

Sorry if that got too philosophical. It's also just pretty!

Birthday

It's my birthday tomorrow. So, this past weekend I went back home to spend some quality time with my parents and relax. I got to see one of my best friends, eat home-cooked meals, have a delicious birthday cake, and get presents!

It was a good haul this year. A penny-saving jar that counts each coin you put in. A book about Tibet written through interviews with the Dalai Lama. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, which looks like just about the best book ever written (http://www.amazon.com/Pride-Prejudice-Zombies-Classic-Ultraviolent/dp/1594743347). A "VOTE" t-shirt. And another highlight: a book called Harry Potter and Philosophy: If Aristotle Ran Hogwarts.

This is a good time to mention my intense love for all things Harry Potter. I started reading the books in 1999, in 3rd grade, not long after the first ones came out. My grandparents got me the first three books for Christmas a few months after that. In 4th grade, classmates and I worked on a script, intending to put on a play of the first book, though we never actually did (I was to play the narrator and a second minor role as the young Ginny Weasley). Also in 4th grade, my science lab partners and I named our hermit crabs Hagrid and Norbert.

Then the movies started coming out. I went to midnight releases for both the books and movies. In full costume. I followed HP-related news on Mugglenet. I started listening to MuggleCast. I bought extra HP reading material--guide books, theory books. I read fanfiction. I learned songs from the movies to play on piano. My friends and I held a "Happy Birthday Harry" party on July 31 one year. I became a fan of various wizard rock bands.

Now that I'm in college, I'm taking a one-credit Harry Potter roundtable discussion class. My English TAs reference the books in class. I make random new friends based solely on our shared love for the books.

I started reading the books when I was 9. I was 17 when the last book came out. I literally grew up right alongside Harry. I bawled whenever my favorite characters died, and cried like a baby when I got the 7th book in my hands at the bookstore.

I really feel lucky to have lived through this time. Though I'm sure our children will love the books when we introduce them, they will never get to experience the agony of waiting two years for the next book. The theorizing, the shipping, the scouring for clues. There will be no fervor, no constant news coverage (they'll scoff when we tell them the outing of a fictional character dominated the news for weeks). But it will live on, and for that I am glad.

Harry Potter fanatics unite!

Silence

I haven't said a word all day. I am participating in a national observance of Day of Silence, promoting LGBTQ rights. (LGBTQ? LGBTQI? LGBTQIA? I've seen them all and am never sure how many letters I have to say to make sure I'm being all inclusive. Can't we just make it "A" for awesome?)

As evidenced by yesterday's post, I often go into things willy-nilly, ignorant of how hard they're going to be. I either underestimate the challenge, or overestimate my own will, or a bit of both. Either way, not talking all day is really, really hard. I don't think I realized how much I rely on talking to get by and stay sane before today. Like when I accidentally bumped someone with my elbow and started to say, "sorry," before catching myself and just making an apologetic face. Or trying to get lunch by pointing, smiling, and nodding.

I made it through a whole day. It was hard, but it was worth it a hundred times over. Being consciously silent made me think all day about what I was doing it for. And when I didn't respond to friends in class, I got to show them my "speaking card" to explain the reason for my silence.

The FBI says 16% of reported hate crimes are motivated by sexual orientation. 1500 happen each year. 1/3 of people who identify as gay or lesbian try to commit suicide. Over half of those who identify as trans attempt to kill themselves. These horrendous realities stem from a culture of hate that manifests itself throughout our society--not least in the bans on same-sex marriage that exist in some form in 43 states. Some of this hate is motivated by religion, and most by sheer ignorance.

This cause is very close to me. So many people, some of them close friends, suffer against prejudice, discrimination, and hatred for their LGBTQ self-identification. Who they are and how they love is denied at every turn. The reality that people have to fight just to express who they are hurts me so very deeply. I may be an idealist, but I want a world where being yourself is never looked down on, a world without hate, and a world with equality for all.

So go out and fight. Our weapon is love.

Geek

I went to a concert tonight. A really great one. And not one of your silly "rock" concerts with their amps and sweat and screaming fans. This is not that cool. It's infinitely cooler--the University of Wisconsin-Madison Varsity Band.

This is the band that in the fall is known as the marching band. They play pregames and halftimes and the renowned 5th quarter after the football games, win or lose. Thousands of rabid fans (both students and adults, inebriated and sober) sing, dance, and yell along with the band, who play classics such as "Tequila," "2001: A Space Odyssey," "Beer Barrel Polka," and of course, "On Wisconsin." There is only one way to truly get a sense of the grand fun of this tradition, which is of course by being at Camp Randall for a game.

In lieu of that, watch http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okHjkUgVdqQ.
(Also, see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cxJzADik5TA&feature=related. The fun starts 30 seconds in.)

The band is an integral part of every UW football game. This is a school where the band director is as well-known among fans as the football coach. In the spring, however, when football season has long passed, the bandees keep the spirit alive with their Spring Concert. Thousands attend the show inside the basketball arena, the music is loud, there are light displays, fireworks, guest performers, acrobatics--you name it. Robot drumline? Check. African drum group? Check. The 70-something director flying over the audience on wires and doing midair somersaults? Check--a few times over.

There is nothing like the UW band. I like to think that's not bias. It's just the truth. (What's the collegiate form of jingoism?)

I actually dreamt of being in the band. For one day I was. I naïvely thought that it would be fun to try out for the marching band. That first day of reg week was sheer horror. It was what I imagine boot camp to be like--or the innermost circle of hell.

10am-1pm -- Drill
Lunch
2-5:30pm - Drill
Dinner
7-9:30pm - Music Rehearsal
Auditions
Collapse

It was hot. Beating sun. We were given nearly no breaks. Constant moving. Section leaders/drill seargants yelling in your ear. Mocking cheers and cadences from upperclassmen. Nearly impossible exercises. Precision, speed, strength, perfection.

Fatigue. Dehydration. Pain. I don't know how the 300 members do it. I barely made it through a day and I'm sure I couldn't have lasted a second longer. But I really gained a new appreciation for the band.

At least in boot camp you don't have to play an instrument while you're being worked to death.

Oops

I was bad. I missed four (count them, four) days. And I'm late with this one. I have excuses galore in my pocket. They include barely functioning internet, serious family drama, and cross-state travel.

But I loathe giving excuses. I hate it. I might even fear it just a little. And unlike my irrational, unfounded, and completely strange fear of the ocean (see a few posts ago), I know exactly where this fear stems from.

It was middle school. Eighth grade. In middle school, everyone went through a forced hell called FACE--Family and Consumer Education. This class is presented as preparation for "real" life. In actuality, this involved pillow-sewing, cookie-baking, checkbook-balancing, and creepy robot babies that supposedly keep hormonal middle schoolers celibate. Right.

Anyways, the most ambitious project we had to undertake in preparation for life outside of the cozy world of middle school was The Restaurant. And yes, it was capitalized, treated with a reverence usually saved for Our Lord Above and The Jonas Brothers. The Restaurant project was legend at my middle school, promoted in the local paper, drawing crowds, the culmination of weeks of planning.

What it was was this. The entire class worked together to develop an idea for a restaurant, work out all the logistics, and open one morning for breakfast to the school, parents, and the community. (Why everyone was trusting enough to eat food prepared by a bunch of 13-year-olds I'll never know.)

My class picked a tropical theme. The Hula Hut or some such thing. And everyone got a job. I, as a responsible, A-student, was front manager. I had to manage the wait staff and the bussers, keep an eye on the hostess, and liaise with the back manager.

We spent weeks preparing. Designing menus, developing and pricing items, decorating. And then we had a practice run--teachers came, ate, critiqued. Tensions were high, nerves frayed.

Of course things went wrong. One of the cooks had a meltdown and burnt a whole batch of eggs. One of the waiters dropped a whole tray of dishes. The typical. And as front manager, I had the pleasant task of trying to placate hungry teachers.

There was one teacher. Mr. Fry. When I had to explain to him that his food would take a few extra minutes because of a problem in the kitchen, and that I was truly sorry, I received no sympathy, no kindness. I believe his exact words were, "A competent manager doesn't make excuses--they find solutions." Which aside from being really annoying, was wholly unproductive, as there really wasn't much my 13-year-old self could do aside from offering a free fruit juice/coffee/tea with his breakfast, which I had already done.

Despite the relative un-usefulness of his admonishment, it's stuck with me. I hate having to make excuses, mostly because I'm afraid someone else will belittle me for my lack of solution-finding ability. And I blame Mr. Fry.

He was a crappy teacher anyway.

Themeless

Time is short. I'm tired. And headache-y. And trying to finish work for tomorrow.

There's a problem with blogging everyday. I have to be on my computer. And I have to have something interesting to say at the same time. That's difficult. Especially on a day like today when my very oldest, closest, best friend came to visit me all evening and then I got a call from another of my great friends that I haven't seen in months. I can't just say, "I'm sorry, I have a blog post to write." That seems rude, not to mention I'd have to blow off people I love very dearly.

I really do love writing a blog--it challenges me to write, which I am notoriously bad at doing regularly, and it helps me find my voice as a writer. I feel like I'm writing in a diary that I'm actually obligated to continue with (another thing I am terrible at doing) on the off chance that someone else might stumble across it.

But with time and energy limitations, I'm taking a bit of a cop-out and listing some things I like.

• Books: East of Eden, Pride and Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, Harry Potter Septology, Macbeth

• Authors (because I love all their books!): John Green, Anne McCaffrey, Jasper Fforde, Tamora Pierce, Ian McEwan

• Movies: Princess Bride, Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, Philadelphia Story, Mystery Men, Blazing Saddles

• Bad Movie (as in, it's so bad it's great): Bella Mafia

• Food: Pasta, Mango, Pita and Hummus, Ice Cream, Broccoli

• New Phrase: "Hyperbole is the best thing ever!" closely followed by "Scrabble: It's feng shui for the English language."

• TV: Veronica Mars, The Daily Show, The Office (both!), 30 Rock, So You Think You Can Dance

Ok, it's officially 11:59, so this blog is going up.

Storyteller

I can't tell a short story. I'm the person who takes 20 minutes to recommend a movie I just saw. I am physically unable to stop myself. Instead I go on and on about fantastic lines and scenes I liked and other great things I've seen the actors in and that book it reminded me of and all the inane details that I find truly fascinating and I'm sure no one else does.

I don't want to bore people to tears with these stories. I very much want them to be as in love with the movie as I am. But that's the problem--my love and my desperate need to convey how awesome it is overflow and I can't reign myself in.

And then I get lost in my own thoughts. A conversation will progress from that movie to my seeing one of the actors in an interview on Youtube to that other video I saw on Youtube of this Ukrainian polka band playing Katy Perry songs (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e_TIOfUEudo) to why Katy Perry is always wearing food-related clothing to what I ate for lunch to what was on Sportscenter at the cafeteria while I was eating to whether Brett Favre will really stay retired....

By that point I can't even remember what I started talking about, and odds are I didn't actually make a point about anything. Kind of like this blog post (which I've actually managed to keep rather contained).

So that's the downside. I'll never be a good storyteller. But I think I can turn this to my advantage. My eye for detail and close attention to every single event, mundane or not, will make me a great existentialist novelist.

Comedy

I generally love comedy. I love laughing, I love making people laugh, and I love other people who make a career out of that whole laughter exchange. I'm a big fan of quirky comedic movies and laugh-out-loud funny books. And I love comedians--Mitch Hedberg, Ricky Gervais, Tina Fey, Jon Stewart (and for that matter, everyone on the Daily Show!), just to name a few.

But I have recently become hugely attached to Russell Brand. You should know who he is, and even if you don't recognize the name, you might recognize the look. He looks vaguely like a homosexual, rock 'n roll pirate with a penchant for leather and eyeliner. And he's hilarious.

You know why he's now my absolute favorite? He pushes his audience. To think while they laugh. His manner is a strange blend of the high- and lowbrow, his comedy both physical and metaphysical. In the span of a few seconds, he calls someone in the audience a "c***" and describes life as a "cacophony" of sounds and experiences. From "shite" to "staccato." "Retard" and "recalcitrant." His intelligence amazes me, as does his complete willingness to be blunt in his choice of swear words, the intimate details of his life, and his opinions.

And he's the master of off-the-cuff improv. I bust a gut every time I listen to an interview with him. His stage shows draw from the audience members, the local newspapers, and his own spur of the moment thoughts.

Sometimes that improvisational in-the-moment-ness gets him into trouble. From raunchy answering machine messages to the MTV awards to his Osama Bin Laden getup (on September 12, 2001), he often finds himself in hot water. He's got numerous past addictions to his name. But you just can't hate him. He's totally frank, open, and often apologetic and it's impossible not to forgive him, laugh with him, and move on.

He's completely crass, surprisingly smart, and perfectly perfect in every way (to quote one of my favorite nannies).

I feel like I've spent this whole blog just promoting Russell Brand, but I guess I'm ok with that. Go watch some of his stuff on Youtube, catch his turn in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and his numerous interviews (recently on NPR's Talk of the Nation). I promise you'll find yourself thinking about and laughing at yourself, him, and the world.

Just be prepared...and over, say 16.

Phobia

I have a phobia. Just one. Not that I don't have other fears, because I very much do. It's just that those other fears have a basis in reality--I understand where they come from.

I'm moderately afraid of heights. Because of the potential falling to my death part. But it only comes into play after a certain distance from the ground in certain circumstances. I'm also afraid of bugs. This one's a little less understandable, but they're gross. Also, some of them could sting/bite me. And, like any sane person, I am not too fond of the notion of my house going up in flames, or being mugged, or being hit by lightning. But those aren't really things I think about much. They don't hinder my everyday activity or even bother me much at all.

No. I have a particular brand of irrational fear known as Thalassophobia. Fear of the ocean. I don't know why I have the particular urge to tell this story today, except that while I was studying in the library I was looking out at the waves on the lake and that must have sparked a little bit of that fear in my brain. Who knows.

But back to my phobia. I don't know where it came from. I can't think of a single traumatic event in my past that would cause this. I always loved visiting the ocean and swimming in it--in fact, I still do. Let me explain.

I'm not afraid of swimming in the ocean. I'm not terrified of drowning or being eaten by sharks or stung by jellyfish (though those are all experiences I'd prefer to avoid). It's just the ocean itself. To the point where I can't go to aquariums without feeling panic. I can't look at videos or even pictures of the vast expanse of water without feeling nauseous. I don't really like thinking too deeply (teehee. pun.) about the ocean either.

I have a friend who's a psychology major. This is way too fun for her. She enjoys discussing how she, when she is a fully trained, practicing psychologist, would go about curing me. This is what it boils down to: we would work our way up in little increments so I can handle more and more of the scary. Or, in a process called "flooding" (creepy), I would be forced to experience my worst possible situation first, right away, all at once. For me, that's those aquariums where you walk in a tunnel and the ocean is around you on all sides, separated by just the merest margin of plexiglass. I'm shuddering thinking about it.

This fear has ruined a lot of things for me. I can never work at Pacific Life Insurance, because I'd probably have to see their logo all the time with that whale jumping out of the ocean. I can never enjoy the wonder that is Shark Week. And I can no longer watch Finding Nemo. I loved that movie. Damn you, thalassophobia. Taking Nemo from me.

I'm hoping this is just a phase. A years-long, terrifying phase, but a phase nonetheless. Perhaps I'll grow out of this and thalassophobia will join the Easy-Bake Oven, *NSync posters, and stirrup pants at the back of my closet. Until that day comes, I'll still cringe at the sight of the waves and keep Finding Nemo on the shelf.

Wait. I take that back. Stirrup pants are so coming back.

Shakespeare?

I'm getting this one in under the wire. Though in my defense, I spent most of the day being productive elsewhere--my paper came together nicely, I studied up on Spanish, and managed to do some laundry. On the whole, a fairly successful weekend.

I was thinking (inspired by John Green's Q&A blog today) about names. Though I agree that it seems odd, if not downright dangerous to choose their own name, I wonder about how much letting others name us lets others define us. Do you ever meet, let's say, a Candy and think to yourself "That's such a Candy?" Or a Bertha or a Linda? Or find yourself thinking that a person doesn't look like their name?

There are all sorts of stereotypes associated with names. Smart names. Ditzy. Snobby. Old-fashioned. Successful. Think for a second and you can come up with a name you associate with each of those categories.

For example, when I searched my own name, Leah, I came up with "Wholesome, Natural, Refined." (If you want to try your own name, go to http://www.behindthename.com/rating/) At another site, people ranked Leah as an Environmental Activist, a Cheerleader, or a Poet. (Once again, go to http://www.namenerds.com/cgi-bin/career.cgi?mode=view)

But the worst part is that these stereotypes play out into life. Applicants with traditional-sounding names are more likely to get called back for a job interview than those with "African-American names." Girls with very "feminine" names are less likely to pursue math or science-related careers. The suicide rate is higher for people with "strange" names than more standard ones.

These stereotypes lead to expectations of someone, which affects that person's self-image and changes their behavior. So, are we actually hurting children by choosing their names for them? Perhaps it's better to take the Native American route, and pick a name once we have our own definable characteristics. (Incidentally, there's a great book by Joan Bauer called Hope Was Here that's very much about this sort of fitting-into-a-name deal.)

And yet, I like the name Leah. I think it fits me, whether I'm wholesome and refined or not. Maybe I grew to fit the name, or maybe it grew to fit me. I don't know.

Of course, I still think I'd make a good Zoe.

BEDA

So, I started April a bit late this year.

I feel hesitant starting this blog-every-day deal, mostly because I'm fairly positive I have nothing to write about. Though it is comforting to remember that probably no one but me will read this or even know it exists. So here begins my mundane blog about trivialities.

Like, today. Today I have to spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about, writing, rewriting, and complaining about a paper for my English class Monday. This paper will (fingers crossed) deal with how Conrad and Yeats use genre and formal structure to reflect the loss of political action in the face of urgency during the fall of the British Empire.

But more importantly, writing this paper means I can feel completely free to wear my pajamas all day. The only people I'll be with for an extended period of time today are both authors I don't know and who are moreover...well, dead. This thought is very freeing. It's going to be what gets me through the day.

You can make me spend my whole weekend writing a paper, but you can't make me put on clothes. Power to the people.