February 29, 2012

Jesus Gets Toast, Dumbledore Gets Trucks

My brain may truly be broken.  I was on my way to class today, minding my own business when I made a rather interesting discovery.  I was staring out into space when I realized there was something a little too familiar about the dirt smears on the truck in front of me.  If I had had a camera available, I surely would have recorded the event to post here.  From the long beard to the spectacles, it was absolutely plain as day!  The late headmaster of Hogwarts was staring me right in the face.

That's right!  Dumbledore made his appearance known on the back pannel of the truck.  Someone needs to notify the Catholic Church because we have another potential patron saint on our hands.  Consider the evidence:  Albus Dumbledore died sacrificing himself for the good of the world.  He appeared to Harry Potter in shards of glass, although Harry attributed this to Dumbledore's brother using magic, but everyone can make mistakes.  Then he appeared to Harry again when he passed out from Voldemort's curse to give him useful advice.  Now I have seen his glorious appearing upon a truck.  It is no doubt that this is a modern day miracle.

So let's take a moment to consider what Dumbledore has to offer as a patron saint with a little Q&A I like to call What Would Dumbledore Say? (WWDS).

Dumbledore, wise patron saint of Muggles, what does your appearance on the back of the truck mean?

"I never liked these curtains. I set them on fire in my fourth year. Accidentally, of course."

Um...that doesn't really answer my question, Dumbledore.  Can you be a bit more clear?  I'm sure it's disorienting speaking from beyond the grave.

"Are you Alastor Moody?"

No...

"What will you give me in return, Severus?"

Well, I'm not Severus either, but I suppose I could light a candle or something.

"Soon, we must all make the choice between what is right and what is easy."

Ooooh, so what you meant by your appearance was to inform us that we would have to make a hard decision in the future.  Can you tell us what the right choice to make is?

"Love, Harry. Love."

That's actually a wise answer.  All we need is love, am I right?

"Mm, alas, earwax."

Erm...are you even listening to me?

"Did what? Good night."


So there you have it!  The first conversation with our newest patron saint; Albus Dumbledore Patron Saint of Muggles and the Absent Minded.


Jesus Toast

Dumbledore Toast

It begins...

Day 7: Smartphone

Its smart cause I can post from it.  But my real blog post is about this

I dont think my picture is right there.  I can't tell cause formatting is different on the phone.  In any case, wherever the picture is in the post, its reeses with nutella on top.  Its very delicious.  True story. 


Homework

This house has become a prison.  I look outside and I see how beautiful it is.  It's sunny, it's cheerful, it looks warm and inviting.  Even though we didn't have a lot of snow this winter, it was still dark and dreary most of the time.  Spring is around the corner and today makes this all the more clear!

And yet, the evil homework monster lurks over my shoulder like a jailor dangling the keys to my cell before my eyes.  "Sure, it's nice out, but you get no reprieve.  Think about that next time you decide to further your education."  I hate you homework monster.  Little do you realize that it is not my prison into which you are looking and laughing at, but my not so secret lair in which I am plotting your demise.  Each assignment I finish is another piece of you destroyed.  But you don't see that do you?  You just stand there and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.

One day you will be gone and then I will have the last laugh and the sunshine on my face.  One day, one day...one....day...

February 28, 2012

Mind Altering State

So this weekend through today, I've spent about 72 hours or more just doing homework from the time I wake up in the morning to the time I go to bed.  I try to finish assignments and then take an hour or so to decompress before moving onto the next assignment.  In between homework, I've had class, work, and observation for school, then more homework.  The end result?  I think I've destroyed my brain.

I am completely disoriented, dizzy, tired.  I honestly can't remember what I did beyond yesterday.  Friday through Sunday is a complete blur.  Yesterday I couldn't remember beyond Sunday.  My body has been run so ragged, that I literally crashed when I came home today.  I thought I was awake and working on other assignments.  When I woke up, it had become dark and I realized I had been sleeping.  I literally could not tell the difference between being awake and asleep anymore.

Trying to come up with something interesting to blog about is a chore.  Trying to form complete sentences is almost impossible.  I have no heart in what I'm saying anymore, I just don't care.  My brain can't concentrate and I'm having a hard time telling if I'm making sense or just rambling on nonsensically.  I feel like I've been drinking without the added euphoria.

In conclusion:  Teachers really should consider how much work students have in other classes.  Assigning a paper that wasn't in the syllabus may be the last straw.  I understand the need to have students do work to show that they're learning something in a class, but ultimately, I'm looking at four more days of doing exactly what I've been doing since Friday night...and I don't know when I'll get a break.

Posting may get more interesting for a while as I slowly descend into madness.

Day 6: Margaritas help you think

aka I can write two things at once.  I'm currently working on my 4 page paper that is due tonight at 6 and for some reason, John decided to make margaritas.  One would assume this would hinder the brains process, but it totally didn't.  Before the margaritas were made, I had words on the page and once I started drinking the margarita, there were MORE WORDS ON THE PAGE!  It was like an essay miracle.  It probably had nothing to do with the alcohol because I only took a few sips.  It was probably the massive amount of sugar in the mix that woke my brain up and said "HEY!  Hey..... IT'S TIME TO WRITE THINGS!"  I still have a page and half left to go but I also have an hour and a half left to write.  That's like half a page every 30 minutes.  If only the text were more interesting, I would have been done with this yesterday.  Reading this book was like running uphill.  I had to reread many things so that I could fully understand stuff I don't care about.  Somebody slap me next time I think its a good idea to take a history class.  It's a bad idea. 

February 27, 2012

Day 5: Awww

So yesterday after reading Kris's brilliant novel-esque post, I was thinking about what I should write about for the day.  Then I remembered it was Sunday and I said I wasn't posted on Sunday cause apparently its not actually part of lent.  However, this caused me to almost forget that I was supposed to post today.  Then I logged on to blogger and noticed that Kris had posted the cutest thing I've seen on the internet ever.  It's a baby turtle trying to eat a strawberry. 

Here is more cuteness!


I CHALLENGE KRIS TO WRITE A SHORTER ONE!

Angela:

February 26, 2012

Dalliances & Daydreams

Once upon a time, there lived a young girl who everyone remarked as being ‘very strange’.  She would often lie out in the grass behind her house, watching the sky change from one shade of blue to the next throughout the day and the clouds lazily floating by overhead, all the while daydreaming of fantastic things.  Sometimes she would dream that she was a princess locked away in a castle awaiting her chance to escape into the forest and begin a grand adventure.  Other times, she would dream that she was a pirate with a treasure map in search of wealth beyond all imagining.  When she was particularly driven, she would create such a map and enact this dream out at a park, or pick up her toy bow and arrow set to become a wayward wonderer not unlike Robin Hood.  During the summer, she would wander up and down the lane at her grandparents’ farm and all over the tall grass and fields, pretending to be lost or traveling to exotic lands.

While she loved these games, nothing seemed capable of sating her appetite for adventure.  She could imagine grander and grander things, but always she knew she was still in her own backyard, or at the park, or at her grandparents’ farm, far away from the things she was dreaming in her mind.  As the girl grew older, the spark which lit her creativity began to dwindle.  Adult responsibilities were draining away the fuel which always flowed so readily as a child to take her to amazing places and enable her to do amazing things.  The girl began to despair and lament that loss.  She wished and wished in her secret heart for something that could restore her dreams and fantasies, all the while knowing that one day she would have to leave that world behind and have no more adventures.  The magic of childhood would soon fade away forever.

One particularly dreary day, while the girl was searching for something to inspire her once again, she discovered a strange book on the shelf in her parents’ library.  The book had always been there, but it had always somehow gone unnoticed until now.  At first the girl had no idea why this book should be on her parents’ shelf.  It looked like a terribly evil book, depicting an enormous red, horned demon standing behind a bubbling cauldron which spewed forth some toxic cloud of steam as it rested upon a blazing fire.  Her parents had never struck her as the kind of people to buy such a book.  Perhaps it was because of this that her curiosity got the better of her.  What was this book with the strange depictions and provocative title?  Why was it here?  Her heart hammered excitedly within her chest as she slowly opened the cover and turned the first few pages, examining the text for some sort of answer to her bountiful questions.

Much to her dismay, the text was unintelligible.  It spoke of strange terms and rules of which she had never heard of and only managed to confuse her the more she read.  Before she had the chance to delve further into the pages in search of some form of key which might break the cypher, she heard footsteps coming from the other room.  Knowing that she didn’t want to explain why she had removed the secret book from its place on the shelf, she quickly replaced it and pretended to be interested in a different book from a different area of the library.  The praise she received for wanting to read classic literature quickly overshadowed her curiosity and the forbidden book would remain where it had been found, not quite forgotten but no longer a temptation in her mind’s eye.  After all, why would she want to read a book full of gibberish, even if it had begun to fan the flames of her old childhood spark?

Many years would pass by and the girl grew older.  Solace had been found in books for a time and then in a magic box which brought the world to her doorstep.  The girl had fallen in love with the box from the moment when she realized the extent of its possibilities.  Suddenly, she could travel to the exotic places she had always dreamed of going and she never had to leave her home.  She could have conversations with real people from all over the world, she could spend time with her friends even if they weren’t allowed to come to the house, and she could read and learn from pages and pages of information at her disposal; a plethora of options that had never been available to her before.  It was as if someone had taken a look inside of her head and turned it into a physical device which made all of her dreams come true.  The girl had no idea that the box was a sorcerer’s trap.  It was silently killing the flame inside of her under the guise of an accelerant, promising to engage her imagination and all the while causing her to forget how to create things on her own.  The magic box may have succeeded altogether, if not for a rather fortuitous meeting.

The boy had been sitting in front of her in school all this time, but she had never really noticed him.  Even though they often discussed classwork together to try to better understand it, the girl had simply never paid much attention to him.  It wasn’t until she discovered that he could recite the poem to one of the classic books which she had read, a poem she knew all too well from her own memory, that she really noticed how similar the two of them were.  The boy began to tell her of a place where she could go on the magic box where there were others like them.  He convinced her that she would fit in and be welcomed upon her arrival.  And she was.

The people of this mystical land, founded within the magic box, were adventurers not unlike herself.  They had learned how to build vast worlds, cultures, societies, and creatures using only the power of their minds and words.  The girl fell in love with this mystical land and the people who cultivated and cared for it.  As time went on, she learned that they too knew of the secret forbidden book which she had found years ago.  They possessed copies of their own and agreed to teach her how to read and understand it.  They planned a time to meet in person and gathered at the girl’s home where they talked at length about the meaning of the secret book and the possibilities which dwelt within.  They taught her how to read it, to use it, and to manipulate it so that she could possess its power rather than becoming enslaved to the strictures of the rules set in place within its bindings.  Most importantly, they reminded her of how much she loved to create things within her own mind and to hone the blade of her imagination, keeping it ever sharp and at the ready for what lay ahead of her in life.

From that moment on, the girl never dreamed of being locked away again and never felt the grief of imminent loss that should have come with adulthood.  She had been set free by the powers of the forbidden book and the people she had met through the magic box.  That is not to say that she never had her moments of doubt, that she never questioned the path which she had taken, or that she never suffered because of her freedom, but only that those things have always paled in comparison to what was gained.  The girl had become a powerful woman who possessed the magic of childhood, and she knew in her secret heart that there was nothing she couldn’t do.

February 25, 2012

Day 4: Hi! I'm Mrs. Goodin

First I'd just like to say that Kris's post yesterday, Wove and Mawwage, is 100% accurate.  I mean, except for the part about me being a poacher.... and John being a Canadian Mounty..... and me living in Alaska.  Everything else is completely historically factual.  What's left you ask?  I guess just the part about me being insane and getting married.  You would think that would be a bad combination but apparently its the secret to success. 

So we got married at the courthouse.  There was an entourage of like 50 Greek looking family members also in the waiting room and one blond-haired blue-eyed bride wondering what she was getting herself into.  Our ceremony was short and sweet, although, the lady left out "till death to us part", a testament to societies decreasing marriage expectations.  I, however, plan to be Angela Goodin for the rest of my life because divorce is expensive.  Oh, also I love my husband. 

Next step: kids.  Preferably a girl first.  The law of probability is on our side because my full blood siblings have a total of 6 boys and 1 girl.  Our family is due for some females.  Besides, how adorable would my 6'8" husband look with a tiny little girl in his arms... that sounds cuter than a box of kittens.  Coming from me, that's saying A LOT! 

Ramblings on Luck

I find it nearly impossible to escape buying into the concept of luck, whether it is good or bad.  Days like today remind me that no matter how much I try to rationalize crazy random happenstances which may come up throughout my life; there are just things that I can’t explain.  Bad days can get extremely bad while good days can become incredibly and inexplicably good, and it seems as if there is no rhyme or reason to such happenings.

Today I found a library card that I lost in 2003.  It was in a wallet I did not have in 2003.  I have no idea how it got in there.  I found a very important notebook I’ve been missing for two weeks and then I found a winter hat that I’ve been missing since before Christmas.  Rationally, I can see how I may have overlooked the notebook and the hat, even though I was meticulous in my search for such items.  It’s also entirely probable that the library card was stuck to something that was in my old wallet that happened to get knocked loose at the right moment for me to discover it today.  The build-up of these unlikely events and all of them happening at once, however, is just too coincidental for my taste.  I wasn’t looking for any of these things; they just randomly began to accumulate.

If not luck, than I can only jump to the proper conclusion:  the gnomes have had their fill of these objects and returned them to me.  Sneaky devils!  They may have at least had the decency of leaving me a note informing me of the fact that they were going to barrow these items.  I would have been more inclined to accept such a loss if I had only known.  Between them and the goblins that make off with my socks without notice, how can one not attribute sudden loss and recovery to luck?  It’s a conspiracy I tell you.

February 24, 2012

Wove and Mawwage


I’ve known Angela ever since she was a poacher in Alaska.  I tried to tell her at the time that salmon weren’t endangered animals, but this was how she had chosen to make her living.  It was a cold, cruel life out on the ice.  Long, frigid days and almost unbearable nights were enough to change a man.  The isolation and the grueling hours could easily drive one insane.  Luckily Angela was already insane, so there wasn’t much left to lose.  I don’t know what the circumstances were leading up to John’s arrival, but I remember the day the Canadian Mounty rode his noble moose steed into our camp.  He swept Angela off of her feet almost immediately.  Literally!  John slipped on the ice getting off of his moose mount and collided in a heap with Angela.  That was the day they fell in love.  From that day onward, I was certain the two of them were going to be married.  A Canadian Mounty and an Alaskan salmon poacher is a match made in heaven, anyone can tell you that.

To that end, I have only this to say:  Congratulations Jangela!  Angohn?  You know what?  It only really works for Krangela.  Sorry, gave it my best shot.  Congratulations John and Angela for tying the knot!  I wish you both many years of happiness!  Or  at least one.  I hear tell the world ends in December.


February 24, 2012

Day 3: 2 1/2 hours

I'm getting married today, hence today's blog will be ridiculously short.  I CHALLENGE KRIS TO WRITE A SHORTER ONE!  I'll bet she can't do it.  I added that last time just to give her a fighting chance.  

February 23, 2012

Day 2: 21 Hours

This is me and my flower.  I made it because I'm getting married tomorrow!  The one in my hair is whats known as a 'practice flower'.  I had to make sure my method of making a hair comb flower was structurally sound before I used my most super awesome flower that I'm actually putting in my hair tomorrow.  I also decided that since I have a flower in my hair today, I should wear a Hawaiian dress to match.  This was probably the best decision I have made all year.  You know, besides the one to marry John... but really I made that decision pretty much the day we started dating CAUSE HE'S THAT AWESOME! 

Also, Kris has accepted my love.  She's lent blogging with me!  We're like a super awesome unstoppable lent blogging team.  All we need now is a mass of fluffy kittens and the world will be ours. 

Lent Blog...fo real yo

So yesterday my esteemed collegue and the better half of the Krangela pairing made an observation to which I was going to explore prior to the excitement of my first post (see:  OH GOD I HATE BLOGGER).

Ash Wednesday!  Without ashes!

I too was a victim of the Ash Wednesday ash robbery.  I didn't get my Jesus mark and I am a terrible Catholic.  I blame school and work, but mostly it comes down to me being a lazy S.O.B.  I could have woken up at 4am, gone down to the church, attended Mass, and then come home and prepared myself for the day...but I didn't want to get up that early.  Maybe I should change my lent resolution to get up early to pray, but I've already blown that all to hell, since today was the first day and I didn't do that either.

Oh wait, I've got it!  My penance shall be posting mindless drivel for the masses to read.  Perfect!

See?  Because, I've already done it.  I'm on day two, so that...yeah, you get it.



Happy Lent Blog everyone!

February 22, 2012

Kritz's Lent Blo...RANT

Yes, yes.  I decided I could find time to post as frequently as I can.  And since I only have 10 minutes before the end of the first day of lent, I will skip pleasantries and launch directly into RANT!

Holy sweet baby Jesus, I have never seen a less efficient system for e-mail or password recovery than blogger.  Trying to access my account couldn't have been more painful than going to the dentist to get a root canal done without morphine or pain killers while having an angry badger gnaw on your toes and a squalling child right next to your ear.

Everything about their system from the repetative NEED for you to type again and again mindless codes to prove you are a human trying to access your account, to the refusal to let them use your own freakin' gmail address to receive the password change is completely asinine, especially if blogger doesn't recognize the only other e-mail address you have.  So what?   I need to make yet ANOTHER e-mail address with a different website just to receive my password?  Sorry blogger, I'm not falling for google's agenda!  I'm already irritated that when I log into my g-mail account, it logs me out of my youtube account for some reason and I can never remember my password!

Hey people of internetland!  Welcome to a Lentastic Blogkickoff!

Day 1: Angelas lent blog, year two

This lent blog is like a sequel to last years lent blog BUT with the added bonus that Kris might possibly grace us with her presence if she deems us worthy enough of it.  We've actually been talking about starting a website called Asylum 204 since last year when I started my first lent blog (back when neither of us had any homework to worry about and it was the perfect time to start such a thing) but it didn't happen so I started my own.  Now we're both in Graduate school and have no time for such a project so naturally that's when I set up this blog.  Kris says she's too busy to post right now but YOU'RE NEVER TO BUSY FOR LOVE KRIS! 

Anyway, with regards to lent, I plan on posting something every day, even if it is hilariously short, EXCEPT for Sunday's because (as we learned last year) they are not part of the 40 days of lent and totally messed up my whole day count.  Unfortunately this blog is not sanctioned by the church because, as I mentioned on Facebook, I have class tonight and will be unable to receive my official start of lent ashes.  What a tragedy. 

Happy Lent everyone!

Angela