Giant 20-minute fireworks displays, while pretty and very much appreciated, are not how you celebrate Halloween. Halloween is celebrated by dressing up in costumes, eating candy until you feel sick, and, if you're me, reading Poe. (Actually, when I was still living at home I did not get to read Poe, because my dad used to make us listen to the original radio broadcast of War of the Worlds, the one that freaked out everyone in New Jersey, but that is neither here nor there.) I know you guys like your fireworks, but it's Guy Fawkes in 5 days anyway. And it's not just one of you, there are at least 5 of you going right now. Try to restrain yourselves.
Thank you for your attention to this matter.
Antares
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
No, I am actually alive.
Sorry about that. First there was no Internet, and then there was laziness. Anyway, this is what I've been doing:
I went on vacation (in England, of course) with my parents. A large percentage of this vacation consisted of them trying to keep me out of used bookstores. "Look at that fascinating piece of architecture over there!" my dad would say. "There's a used bookstore right behind me, isn't there?" I would say. Other highlights included many, many archaeological digs and museums, because of course what I need right after completing a year of demanding archaeological study that I was completely unprepared for is more archaeology, just to unwind, you know. I got back at them, of course, by telling them in excruciating detail about the paleopathological conditions every set of human remains we encountered was suffering from, just to see my dad get the vapours. It serves him right.
I spent a week fighting with my Internet provider. It sucked. But I do have internet at the house now, although my router is in someone else's room. Thank god for wireless.
I looked for retail jobs, because I still have my student visa and have restrictions on what kinds of jobs I can have. I still don't have one. I can't decide whether it's my complete lack of retail experience (dude, I do not belong in retail, I'm only doing this as a last resort, and hoping to get through a few months without taking someone's face off), the American thing, or the fact that my master's degree makes me overqualified. But I can't leave those last two off because otherwise they will wonder what I have been doing with myself these past 6 years, and why I am talking so funny. Someone had better hire me soon, or I'm going to have to stop eating, and no one wants that. Trust me, you don't.
I had my birthday, and I turned 25, making me unbelievably old. NephthysWrath sent me blue irises, which are my favorite, and are incidentally the very first flowers anyone has ever given me. I know, I need a better social life. My grandfather sent me a card in which he expressed in not-so-veiled terms his incredulity at my decision to become an expatriot - this from the man who used to rent his house out every summer and use the money to go travelling in France. People in glass houses, that's all I'm saying. My parents sent me a new MP3 player, because the Nomad is now 5 and is beginning to show signs of acquiring a personality, which is not a quality you want in your electronics. The new one is also a Creative Zen, so hopefully it will be good for another 5 years. It has a color screen and can play video, and is so far removed generationally from the old one that it took me a full day to work through all the menu options, because they were completely unrelated to the ones I'm used to. David sent me X-Files Season 5, because that's what I told him to send, because whenever he has to buy gifts for women he consults me, and he can't have been learning very much.
Finally, I decided to volunteer at a used bookstore, because I'm getting bored sitting around the house. Actually, I passed "bored" a while ago, and now I'm moving into "psychotic." I hate not being in school, and I can't find a retail job, and the used bookstore people were all "Well, you can come here for a few hours a day and sit behind the till and read books, and also have some of them for free, we have plenty," and so naturally I said "YES PLEASE, I'll have some of that," and now I'm afraid of what my room is going to look like when I inevitably have to move.
There. You're all caught up.
I went on vacation (in England, of course) with my parents. A large percentage of this vacation consisted of them trying to keep me out of used bookstores. "Look at that fascinating piece of architecture over there!" my dad would say. "There's a used bookstore right behind me, isn't there?" I would say. Other highlights included many, many archaeological digs and museums, because of course what I need right after completing a year of demanding archaeological study that I was completely unprepared for is more archaeology, just to unwind, you know. I got back at them, of course, by telling them in excruciating detail about the paleopathological conditions every set of human remains we encountered was suffering from, just to see my dad get the vapours. It serves him right.
I spent a week fighting with my Internet provider. It sucked. But I do have internet at the house now, although my router is in someone else's room. Thank god for wireless.
I looked for retail jobs, because I still have my student visa and have restrictions on what kinds of jobs I can have. I still don't have one. I can't decide whether it's my complete lack of retail experience (dude, I do not belong in retail, I'm only doing this as a last resort, and hoping to get through a few months without taking someone's face off), the American thing, or the fact that my master's degree makes me overqualified. But I can't leave those last two off because otherwise they will wonder what I have been doing with myself these past 6 years, and why I am talking so funny. Someone had better hire me soon, or I'm going to have to stop eating, and no one wants that. Trust me, you don't.
I had my birthday, and I turned 25, making me unbelievably old. NephthysWrath sent me blue irises, which are my favorite, and are incidentally the very first flowers anyone has ever given me. I know, I need a better social life. My grandfather sent me a card in which he expressed in not-so-veiled terms his incredulity at my decision to become an expatriot - this from the man who used to rent his house out every summer and use the money to go travelling in France. People in glass houses, that's all I'm saying. My parents sent me a new MP3 player, because the Nomad is now 5 and is beginning to show signs of acquiring a personality, which is not a quality you want in your electronics. The new one is also a Creative Zen, so hopefully it will be good for another 5 years. It has a color screen and can play video, and is so far removed generationally from the old one that it took me a full day to work through all the menu options, because they were completely unrelated to the ones I'm used to. David sent me X-Files Season 5, because that's what I told him to send, because whenever he has to buy gifts for women he consults me, and he can't have been learning very much.
Finally, I decided to volunteer at a used bookstore, because I'm getting bored sitting around the house. Actually, I passed "bored" a while ago, and now I'm moving into "psychotic." I hate not being in school, and I can't find a retail job, and the used bookstore people were all "Well, you can come here for a few hours a day and sit behind the till and read books, and also have some of them for free, we have plenty," and so naturally I said "YES PLEASE, I'll have some of that," and now I'm afraid of what my room is going to look like when I inevitably have to move.
There. You're all caught up.
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