Don't Count the Minutes

So, having decided that it's far more effective to laugh at myself and my job, rather than to wallow in complete misery at the futility of it all, I now present you with a few things I have learned working at the happy, corner Ace Hardware store:

1.) Keep your receipts - I never used to follow this, I'll admit, I was fantastically guilty of throwing out every receipt given to me by any long suffering cashier I happened to come across. However, having since discovered the joy of wading through several weeks worth of transactions to find the one that matches the customer's purchases, I have now seen the error of my ways. Seriously people, don't throw them out. You may end up with a shoe box full of old receipts you can't actually remember ever getting, but trust me, if ever have to return one of those unknown things, the cashier will love you forever (or at least, until your transaction's done)

2.) Bolts and screws are NOT the same thing - Seriously! Bolts are the ones with flat bottoms, whereas screws are the ones with pointy bottoms. DO NOT MESS THESE UP! Creepy old men in flannel shirts will yell at you.

3.) Appearance, gender, and occasionally age determine a person's accent - Red skinned old men in either dirty, stained wife beaters, or old flannel shirts with multiple bruises, cuts, and vile smells attached to them will invariably speak with a very strong Northern New England accent most often heard in Northern Maine and New Hampshire, occasionally called the "New England Hick" accent. To compliment this, their wives, typically women slightly younger than the men, though older than their forties, typically dressed in a large t-shirt from some tourist-y place they went to years ago, and thin cloth shorts that don't really match with much of anything, will almost always speak with a heavy Boston accent. As customers descend in age, their accents will either become more secular, less pronounced, or become even heavier than their older counterparts resulting in an inability to properly understand them when they inform you they are in need of propane.

4.) Keep your own accent - In follow up to the last one, accents in hardware stores are many and varied, far more pronounced than most places, and thus it becomes far easier to catch yourself slipping into another person's speech patterns. I seem to have a particular problem with this, and have caught myself slurring words, pronouncing r's as a's, not pronouncing the 'g' in 'ing', developing slight Southern drawls, dropping consonants, and going from British to Scottish and back again. When this happens, I almost always sound like a complete idiot, and for what is probably the fourth time that day, usually make a complete and utter fool of myself. Be aware of what you say and how you say it, and make sure your voice is your own.

5.) SKU numbers are your friends - The SKU for a bottle of soda is 900118, a water is 900115, and a thing of annuals 900000.

6.) Aisle numbers are also your friends - Need light bulbs? Aisle 10. Batteries? Aisle 9. Pest control? Aisle 4. Hydrolic cement mix? No idea.

7.) Gift cards are NOT your friends - Only two people in the entire store can competently handle gift cards, there are about 5 million steps involved in using them, three different ways to authorize them, and almost none of them work correctly when you have a line of seven people tapping their feet behind your current customer who just wants to use their freaking gift card and get out of there. I absolutely despise them. If a customer hands me one, I now at least know how to use them, how to sell them, and how to complete the transaction fairly quickly. If anything goes wrong, anything at all, I'm hopeless. And as things tend to go wrong fairly frequently with gift cards, I'm usually completely useless.

8.) Don't throw staples at your co-workers - Seriously. It's only funny once. Get over it.

9.) Speak multiple languages - Saying "Do you have an Ace card?" over and over and over again can get pretty freaking annoying after a while. When this occurs, start asking in other languages. For example, when customer #3456 of that day comes up to the register and buys 125 individual sockets, all of which must be scanned 125 times individually, when the time comes to ask them for their Ace card, don't say it in English! Try Spanish! "Hola! Tienes una tarjeta de Ace? Gracias! Yo espero tu tienes una dia bueno!" They may not have a clue what you're saying, but their confused, annoyed, and quite possibly angry expression is bound to be amusing after eight hours standing behind the register!

9.) People will do anything to save money - Even if it's only a few cents, people will try anything and everything to not have to spend any form of extra money. Occasionally, this will mean that not only will they require you to instantly know exactly what their Ace card number is, use all three coupons they've provided, check the price on every single item to make sure it meets their monetary standards, and re-count the change you've given them twice, they will also immediately check the receipt you gave them, in front of you, to make sure you didn't charge them extra for no reason, will just about murder you if you forget, or are not allowed to use a certain discount, and will be perfectly willing and able to argue over the price of a certain item they're sure is 25 cents less than what it rang up as. On the off chance you do forget to give them a certain discount or use a certain coupon, they will almost always insist that they return everything they've just bought so they can re-purchase it with the discount, even if only to save 60 cents on a 25 dollar purchase. I know times are tough, I realize there's a pseudo-recession going on, but even without the economic hardships of the day, it is still the 21st century, things are still more expensive then they were 20 years ago, and 60 cents will neither hurt you, nor get you anywhere.

10.) Spackle is the greatest word in the entire English language - It really is! Just say it a few times, spackle, isn't it fun to say? Spackle! Spackle, spackle, spackle. I don't even really know what it is, entirely, I'm pretty sure it's something you use to seal holes in the wall, but seriously, it is the greatest word ever to say. Spackle, spackle, spackle. SPACKLE!!! Spackle.

And last but not least, since I just realized I was shooting for ten things, but got a little carried away:

11.) Don't count the minutes - There is a distinct art and/or science to waiting for your shift to end. Always count the hours, never the minutes, as for the most part, minutes just makes it seem longer. On short four hour shifts, count down first to the point in which you are halfway done, as in "I have two hours till I'm half way done," then count to when you have only an hour left, "I have an hour till there's an hour left," the last hour then, luckily, goes by very, very quickly. On longer days, count down first to the first lunch break, which is my case, Josh's break "I have two hours till Josh goes to lunch" then count down to yours, then go half way, then till the hour mark, and then you're done. If you break it down, and don't just think "I have nine hours left in here," it makes it go by so much quicker, really, I promise.

There are a few other things I've learned over the months I've worked there, but most of them are so bizarrely small and irrelevant that I'll spare you. For now. (Insert dramatic music here) Just remember, if you ever need a random bolt, or duct tape, or even hydrolic cement mix, come on down to Ace, and I may or may not be able to tell you where it is.

Till next time,

*Nelly*

State of the Blogger

I would just like to make an all points bulletin that I am, in fact, alive. I've just been feeling a bit...er, uninspired, I guess, as of late. Which is why I haven't been writing. Just thought I'd let you know.

Thanks,

*Nelly*

If Only, If Only

It's Monday. You realize that with a start as you fall out of bed onto your piles of clothes, papers, and general stuff covering the floor. It's 10:30. The alarm never went off. In all this adjustment to being awake, your eyes get used to the sun, your mind gets used to pure thought, you answer the world with a simple and eloquent message.

What the hell?

After getting up and blindly reaching for a bathrobe, putting your contacts in, and shuffling downstairs, you decide to wait, and take a shower at eleven. By this point, you're on your second batch of nearly botched up, burnt toast. It's here you remember that not only can you not cook, but that you told yourself you were going to have cheerios this morning to make up for the trip to Pizza Hut the night before.

You open the cereal cabinet. There's nothing there. You end up making toast.

So much for having a plan.

You scour the internet for a while, take a shower, do some laundry, listen to the radio, have an intimate and thought provoking discussion with that cabinet you ran lines with last summer, ignore telemarketers. All the time you move about, from room to room, hallway to hallway, with the same underlying knowledge that this is the life you've always dreaded leading. The typical, the mundane, the shuffling of feet from one aspect of a day to the other, the lazy and restful aspect of leisure. You are a typical teenager, the very definition of restless, desperate to see things, go places, utterly terrified of living a carbon copy of your parents' lives for reasons you can't quite place and probably wouldn't understand.

The clock on the wall moves a second forward. You take another step, and sigh.

Work.

This is your forth day in a row at work. To most, this seems like nothing special, but to you, whose dramatics have a habit of working against you, and who can neither tolerate or accept endless, uninteresting repetition, it is a recurring nightmare. You've been working at the Hardware Store down the road for nearly four months now, ringing things up, checking it out, returning, stocking, asking people if they have Ace Cards, cleaning counters and calling for propane. It's a right of passage, you are aware, every functioning adult you've ever met has spoken of the part time jobs of their youth, the similar feelings they had then, and understand now. You'd like to believe them, of course, you'd like to think the endless stream of people who come to your register might actually relate to you in some inexplicable way, but as you are a teenager, very Hamlet-esque angst is rampant. Who could possibly understand you, the sulking cashier with nothing to immediately look forward to apart from the chance to do returns on your next shift? Who could ever really comprehend the immensity of it all, your problems and your fears? Who could ever understand?

Right. Because you're clearly that complex.

You sigh, and absentmindedly fiddle with the pencil next to your register. You're really very simple, very average, and as painful as it is to admit, naive. You're young and restless, constantly being told you have endless possibilities ahead of you, with not the faintest idea what to do with them. You know what you want, you think of it often, but you constantly belittle it. Of course you want to live in a city, you've lived in a town your whole life. You want to travel across Europe and Asia, hike Mount Vesuvius, visit Stratford, stand and gape before a pyramid, obviously, you've never traveled farther than Canada. Your farthest endeavor was Alaska, your most profound, Washington DC, it makes sense you'd be restless, it's typical you'd want more than what you have now.

You are nothing more than stock character, an interpretation of a very simple genre that anyone can, and everyone has endured.

You ask your latest customer if they have an Ace Card, and in your head, you repeat it in three different languages. Someday, you'll escape this. You may be forced to play a mime for two years, or spend half your life as a Starfish in Disney World, but someday, your red, over sized, Ace Hardware polo shirt will be nothing more than a distant, laughable memory. This is the thought that keeps you going, the thought that makes the broken alarms, burnt toast, piles of laundry, and endless stream of returns worthwhile. Though you lack a script to rehearse, lines to learn, and a character to portray, the thought that someday you will, someday you will have more, helps.

And you hold onto it harder than you've ever held anything in your life.

Your Blog has recently turned two. As you re-read your very first entry, one in which you lament about your boredom, your lack of anything to do, your forced role as babysitter to your sister, you realize things haven't really changed. Oh, you're writing's a bit different, you're a bit thinner, a bit calmer, a bit more mature, your hair's a different color and your clothes are a bit more comfortable, but overall, the events remain the same. Summer will always seem endless, always a repeat of the last year with another year of generic classes you don't care about looming in front of you. You will always sit and wonder if your problems are really problems, and will always decide that they're not, even if, sometimes, they really are. There will always be those endless days of nothing followed by those endless days of something.

And then you remember. You're a senior now. Another year older, one year left. How do you feel?

Brilliant and terrified.

Just where you should be.

Cheers for another year, all. Happy Second Anniversary.

*Nelly*

Exclusives

Ok, so this is just a general "Nelly-needs-to-vent" kind of post. Like, I know I haven't written in a while, and I should be writing about Mother Courage (which went well, by the way) or The Chocolate War (which also went well, if a bit too quickly) or having to deal with rampant dance moms, or the fact that my cousin just graduated today, or even the fact that I'm going to suddenly find myself another year older this weekend, which I only just realized this morning and am only slightly shocked by. I know I should write about these things, these somewhat major events happening around me, but I'm not.

Instead, I'm going to rant about tabloids.

I hate tabloids. Not the kind that tell you we're all going to die in ten days, Bigfoot's living on Mt. Washington, and Oprah's actually an alien god. No, those are funny. Those you can look at while you're waiting in line at the grocery store and laugh hysterically while the guy in front of you gives you a funny look and then tries to hit on you. You can clearly separate those kinds of tabloids from reality. You can go to Mt. Washington, not see Bigfoot, and all will be right with the world.

The ones I'm talking about are ones like this:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1024800/As-Doctor-spotted-FOURTH-beauty-everyones-asking-Whos-next.html

David Tennant. Time Lord playboy. He's been on dates with several different people in the last few years, he's clearly the biggest slut that ever had the opportunity to play Hamlet.

There have got to be more pressing matters to put into print.

Not if you're a tabloid, apparently. Googling the world "Tabloid" comes up with a list of a few different tabloids, one of which is called "Star" Their cover story? CELEBRITIES WITHOUT MAKEUP!!!

ZOMG!!! I'M NOT WEARING MAKE-UP EITHER!!!!

And you know what, I look far, far worse than the people they have on the cover. Make-up doesn't work miracles, it just pronounces what you already have. And as I haven't got very much to pronounce in the first place...well, Miley Cyrus tops me any day, really. Even with the half-naked towel shot.

I find it interesting to think, though, that between David Tennant's amorous escapades and a few famous people deciding they didn't feel like having to take a ton of make-up off at the end of the day, that there must be people out there who are really into this. Obviously, as tabloids still exist, there is a demand for them. That's basic economics class. And I'm sure the vast majority of the people that buy them are only casual readers. But there are some, as further Google searching revealed, who are really, really into rampant celebrity gossip and "entertainment news" There are some people who will buy every single tabloid they can find while waiting in line at the grocery store, and who will sometimes buy them as opposed to actual groceries.

Why?

Because they're fun.

Seriously. It's like watching Gilmore Girls, the appeal of that show, apart from the clever, hyper-speed diologue, is following the relationships of the characters. You watch one week, are left with a cliff hanger, and tune in next week to see if Lorelei does, in fact, get together with Luke. It's simple. There's no shame in it, nothing to worry about. They're fictional characters, it's nothing more than a story, and it's perfectly reasonable to want to find out what happens next in the story. You can be riveted by it, follow it's every move, every plot-detail, wait and wait and wait in suspense because, in the end, it's all just a story, and they're all just actors. Waiting to find out who hooks up with who on a TV show is no worse than waiting for the next Harry Potter book, all you want to know is what comes next in the story.

With tabloids, it's the same principle at work, just without the whole "not real"part. Here, we have the stories of real people, unfolding right in front of you. It's ok to follow the relationships of Lorelei Gilmore, why isn't it ok to follow the relationships of David Tennant? Because David's real and Lorelei isn't. Oh, really? YES!

This is what people forget when they follow celebrity gossip.

These people are not just characters from a book. They are not Snow White, they're not the Gilmores, they're real people, with real lives, just trying to get on with it. We treat them as if their lives are nothing more than clever plot development, the more scandalous it gets, the more we want to read about it. It's not a bad thing, it's not the "darker side of human nature" at work, it's just basic entertainment. The more interesting something is, the more interested people are in it. That's why tabloids appeal. We forget these people don't have to live purely for our own enjoyment, we forget their reality.

It's like Brecht. There's an alienation, a distance that has to be created with people in the public eye in order for them to maintain the privacy needed to stay sane. Tabloids lose this. They rip down that privacy, and throw it at our faces, enchanting us with tall tales and stories, and keep us waiting for the next chapter. Because people, for the most part, admire celebrities like they do literary characters, they want to feel like they're a part of their story, when really, they're just outsiders looking in. They're just trespassing. They're breaking the fourth wall.

So what it really comes down to, is this; do we really need to know? Do we really need to know that David Tennant's been on multiple dates in the past few years, in an attempt to find, perhaps, find a life partner? No. Do we need to know that without make-up on, a most likely exhausted Miley Cyrus actually looks, physically tired? No. We don't need to know any of this, we only look at it because we want to be entertained. The same can be done with books or TV shows, soap operas and cheap supermarket romance novels.

So why aren't we just reading those?


*Nelly*

ZOMG TEH YANA MASTER!!!

I would just like to announce that my life has come one step closer to being complete. Today, while I was at the Fogler Shakespeare Library, as I was waiting for them to cut Shakespeare's birthday cake, who should appear but Sir Derek Jacobi.


ZOMG DEREK JACOBI!!!!!!!

Now, in case you're not aware who, exactly, Derek Jacobi is, I'll explain. Derek Jacobi is one of the single greatest Shakespearean actors EVER, and has also been a whole ton of other things, such as The Secret Garden, Gladiator, and of course, Doctor Who. He played Claudius in the Brannah version of Hamlet, and was absolutely, fantastically brilliant beyond all form of reason as Professor Yana/The Master in Doctor Who.

And I met him.

ZOMG!!! *bounces*

Well, okay...I'll admit. I didn't really meet him. But, I did stand three inches away from him, and I did speak to him. I was standing in with this huge crowd at the museum, when I suddenly looked to the side and noticed that Sir Derek Jacobi, THE MASTER/CLAUDIUS was standing right in front of me.

After a moment of complete and utter flailing around and generally being crazy and in shock, I took my camera out and took a few hundred pictures of him just so I could be sure it was really happening. Then he made his speech (which was priceless, very funny) and then recited some Shakespeare (I can't actually remember what passage it was, I was still in a state of shock...) and then he got escorted down the side of the building through the crowd.

Now, I just so happened to be standing at the very edge of the crowd, right next to the side of the building. So when he came down, I was literally within about three inches of him. Here's a complete script of our conversation as he stood next to me:

Me: .......hi.

Sir Derek FREAKING Jacobi: Hi.

It was epic. After that he got escorted away by a bunch of library employees. But still...

SIR DEREK JACOBI!!!!! ZOMG!!!

Anyway, that's my story for the day.

Cheers,

*Nelly*

I Can Has Microwave?

Greetings from the from down South! Well...ok, not like really down South, as I've just been informed, but more South then where I usually reside which is officially classified as the North. So really, most anything can be counted as "the South" to me, unless you live in Maine, in which case, you are, in fact, North of me.

Hooray for directions!

Anyway. I'm currently sitting on the front porch of a cabin in Maryland. It's much warmer here, though since it's night, it's a bit chilly right now, but for the most part, I like it here. We drove through Baltimore on our way here, which of course meant I had to break into "Good Morning Baltimore" from Hairspray. I mean, honestly, who wouldn't? It had to be done.

We're actually only in Maryland so we can go to Washington D.C. Why we couldn't have just gotten a room in D.C. is beyond me, but we didn't, so here we are. I haven't actually seen D.C. yet on this vacation to Washington D.C. which is only slightly odd. It's not nearly as odd as the fact that our cabin has a microwave in it. I mean, why would you need a microwave? While you're camping, I mean. Isn't the whole point of camping to rough it? Though, if you're getting a cabin as opposed to just staying in a tent, it sort of proves that roughing it isn't really your thing anyway. But still, for some reason, the microwave has me baffled. The air conditioning doesn't bother me, neither does the cable TV with DVD player or the Wi-Fi internet. No, out of all those seemingly bizarre things to be finding in a campground, it's the microwave that bothers me the most.

The cabin's very...er, wooden. Not vertical, sorry, it's actually very horizontal. It's very spacious, I think I really could live here for the rest of my life if I had/wanted to. However, I think I'd miss all my Doctor Who stuff, and both of the plays I'm in, and all of my friends, so I think I'll be leaving this fair state here in about a week or so.

Anyway, I probably should go. It's getting cold, which is wierd, since it's Maryland, but what can you do? Have a good week, everybody.

*Nelly*

Library Musings 3.0

So, I’m sitting in the library with my friend Rachel during chorus (or at least, I’m in chorus, I don’t know what class Rachel’s in, I think she’s got study hall…) and for lack of anything better to do, I figured I’d write a blog entry.

Rachel says hello, and would like to inform us that she is, in fact, in study hall.

She’s looking up home appliances for a business class project; she apparently has to come up with some kind of cost for a business she has to create…or something. Anyway, it looks pretty intense, as she’s glaring at the computer right now with that kind of all-consuming hatred rarely seen outside of murder-mystery-crime-dramas. It’s the kind of look you give someone right before you’re about to stab them in the chest. It’s either that or boredom.

Anyway, what to write about now? Two new episodes of Doctor Who, that’s pretty cool since they were both pretty awesome. I’ll probably write a long, involved, and somewhat sad entry about it midway through the series. In about…three weeks or so, I think. Yeah, it’ll be amazing, trust me.

In other news, I’ve just been cast as the villain in my theater class. We’re doing “The Chocolate War” except there’s only three guys and about seventeen girls, so we’ve reversed the genders of most of the characters and changed the setting to a girl’s prep school. My role was originally the evil “Archie Costello” but has now been changed to the equally evil “Audrey Costello” It’s pretty sweet. I get to do a lot of menacing pacing back and forth across the stage while orbiting this poor kid in the middle. I also get to eat chocolate in practically every seen. If I suddenly gain ten pounds before May, you’ll know why. Not that you’ll care, since you can’t see me, but that’s really not the point.

Let’s see…are there any other interesting things going on in my life right now…no, I think that’s about it. Doctor Who, The Chocolate War, Rachel in study hall…yep, that’s pretty much it. I didn’t have rehearsal for Mother Courage this week, since the Junior Rep Company was doing their show. We were all invited to the open dress rehearsal, but I couldn’t go. Typically, this wouldn’t be a problem, however, I forgot to tell Genevieve I couldn’t go, as did apparently everyone except three or four people, and the poor Junior Rep was left with no audience. They even held the show for us. Needless to say, we all got a very angry e-mail from Genevieve about it, which since I was already feeling guilty about it anyway, succeeded in making me feel a whole lot worse.

Luckily though, I deserve it. It really is rude to not tell someone you can’t come to something you’re expected to be at.

Rachel would like to tell us that life is alright. She also says “good times” but I’m not sure if she’s being sarcastic or not. I asked her if she had anything else she’d like to say, to which she responded, “Shopping for home appliances sucks.”

So true. And with these inspirational words of wisdom, I think I’ll bring this entry to a close. The librarians are looming, the end of the period is closing in, and I have to actually post this.

Talk to you later,

*Nelly*

13 Paranoias

Ok, so on LiveJournal there's this community called "Lucky 13" where they basically post a prompt every two weeks or so and you have to make a list of 13 things from that prompt. This week's prompt was "13 Things that Make You Paranoid" Since it's very late at night and I'm having another insomnia week, I thought I'd give it a shot, just for the hell of it. Why not, right? What have I got to lose?

So I present, for your own, enjoyment, amusement, or whatever, 13 things that make me paranoid.

1.) Lightning: I have a horrible fear of lightning. I'm fine with it when I'm inside, but if I have to be outside, even for just a second (like going from the car to the front door) I completely panic. See, back at SYMS, the best and worst two weeks of my summer, my friend Kristjar convinced me to walk back to the dorms with her in this lightning storm. We ended up on the roof of the Memorial Union Building, since it was the only open door, in the middle of the thunder and rain, the lightning perfectly visible in all it's electrical glory. I had a panic attack, one of only two I've ever had, and couldn't move for a good ten minutes or so. Needless to say, I've never been entirely comfortable with it since.

2.) Handwriting: I am absolutely paranoid about my handwriting. If you were to see something I've written in print, it's absolutely perfect. And, I don't really like bragging, though I seem to do it a lot, but really, ask anyone, I have perfect handwriting. I'm not sure where it comes from, but for some reason, I get really paranoid about every letter looking right, being the right height, matching. I'm like that with my cursive too. It's rather sad, actually, thinking about it now. There are so many other things in the world to be paranoid about, and I'm busy flipping out about my handwriting.

3.) Being Watched: Now, you'd think I'd be ok with this, being an actor. I get watched all the time, by audience members, by directors, by costumers, the occasional reviewer, you'd think I'd be used to it. And I am, for the most part, used to it. There are sometimes though, when I'm alone, walking down the street or just sitting around, when I catch myself looking behind me to make sure no one's there. I worry about that a lot when I'm driving too, when I'm alone in the car. I like to sing along to the music I'm playing (come on, you all do it, you know you do) and I always end up frantically checking the backseat to make sure somebody hasn't stowed away or something, and is laughing hysterically at my rather over-dramatic singing. Go figure.

4.) Asking For Things: Ok, so, anyone that knows me, or rather, has known me for a rather long time, is probably grinning slightly at this. I have a terrible time asking people for things. When I was little I used to send people these little notes asking them if I could have a cookie or if I could turn the volume up or something, just so I wouldn't have to ask them personally. I finally grew out of that one, thankfully, though it took me a while. I still try and convince other people to do the asking for me whenever possible, some habits are very hard to crack.

5.) Essays: I got my first C on an English paper today, and I nearly died. Never mind that I failed math last quarter, no, clearly the C on a paper is far, far worse. Apparently I used to too many personal pronouns, gee, I wonder why, considering my usual medium.

6.) Disappointing/Insulting People: I don't know if this has something to do with being an actor, or entertainer or something, but I hate to disappoint people. I aim to please, when I don't, I usually spout off "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" in about seven different ways and then try to crawl into a hole. I'm sure I disappoint people all the time, I can't make everyone happy, and I don't think I'm very good at it anyway, but it's a paranoia I still can't seem to shake. As for insulting people, or hurting their feelings, unfortunately I think I might do that quite a lot too. I'm somewhat obsessive about being "politically correct" not in the "ZOMG DON'T YOU DARE SAY CHRISTMAS OUTLOUD...TABOOOOO!!!" kind of way, but I really, really don't like insulting people's culture, background, self, or whatever they have to be insulted about. It's another place I tend to say sorry WAY too much.

7.) My Bedroom Door Opening: I'm not sure why this bothers me so much. When I was little I used to be absolutely terrified of someone coming into my room at night. We live extremely close to the railroad tracks, as in the railroad bridge is like half a second from my house, so when the train goes by the house shakes. Sometimes, this means the door opens on it's own accord. When we first moved here, I used to barricade the door shut at night. I used dictionaries, fairytale anthologies, and that big purple doll clothes chest I used to have all stacked up onto each other to hold it shut. Even today, I'm still paranoid about this, not so much the person coming into my room, but just having the door open...I'm not sure why it's so creepy, but it is. I have a latch on my door now, which is good since I nearly killed my two fairy tale anthologies when I was little. You should see them now, all beaten and torn up, often wet. It's a sad state of a affairs, really.

8.) Closed off rooms: Ok, so despite the fact that I hate having my bedroom door open, I am terrified of rooms that have nothing open. In my room the door is closed, but the window is open. Even in the winter, the window is open just a crack, which probably explains why it's always so cold in here. Anything involving rooms that are shut, or locked, or with no way of escape. I'm terrified of not having air, of suffocating.

9.) The Second Floor of My Barn: This one is purely my cousin Miriam's fault. We were sitting up there one night, over the summer, and she was reading me a story she'd been writing at the time, a really sketchy story. Actually no, it was beyond sketchy, it was chilling. Anyway, she was getting to this part about the big scary thing of the story (I'm not going to reveal anymore since I'm not sure if she'd like that) coming up behind someone, this big beam of light, and then there was this body. *shivers* It was much scarier than I'm making it sound, it was an AMAZING story...though I still can't go into the upstairs of my barn at night without being paranoid there's some evil monster behind me. Thanks Miriam, thanks.

10.) College: It's not college itself that scares me, it's getting in. Let's face it, I don't have the best grades, in fact, my grades are actually quite bad. I have nightmares about not getting into college. The idea that college is basically the end-all, be-all of human existence is so drilled into the mind of a high school junior, some take it in their stride while others lag along behind, terrified and falling. That's me.

11.) Being Alone: This one's a rather new one. And I don't mean like the Doctor Who-ish "Last of the Time Lords" kind of alone, or the "I'll never find my true love" kind of alone, it's more just having someone to talk to. I've always been somewhat of a awkward person, from awkward middle-schooler, to awkward high-schooler, I suppose a part of me has always wanted to fit in. I mean, I'm not someone who'll go around going "Look at me, I wear clothes from American Eagle, aren't I cool?" I do embrace my misfit-geekyness. Sometimes though, just a few times, it would be nice to have someone to talk to during Spanish or Economics.

12.) The Bottom of the Pool: Ok, I'm not a germophobe, let's get that down first. I'm not typically one to care if something is messy, a bit gross, or whatever. I don't wander around constantly washing my hands (though I do have a bottle of hand sanitizer when I'm at work, but that's just because we're required to use it since we handle money) or anything. But, what things lie at the bottom of the pool, those old plastic cups I found in that pool in the Turks and Caicos, the peeling paint from the bottom of the town pool, the steadily growing algae in my sister's blue inflatable pool, or even something moving underneath the sand at a lake, for some reason I'm horribly, horribly paranoid about all of this. I don't know. Maybe I just like clear water, who knows.

And last, but most certainly not least:

13.) Being Vain: This is my #1 paranoia. I am absolutely, positively terrified that I'm being vain, that I'm bragging too much, that I talk WAY too much about myself (which, yes, I know I do all the time on this Blog, but you're kind of supposed to) I'm constantly catching myself saying something stupid and vain, constantly second guessing everything I say out loud. It's rather annoying, actually, but if it gets me to break this stupid habit I have of bragging too much, than so be it. Absolutely paranoid.

So that's it. That's my list of paranoias. Granted, I have a few more, I'm a very paranoid person at heart, but then, aren't we all? Try this on yourself, if you ever get horrifically bored very late at night and need something to keep you occupied. It's sort of fun. In a way.

Night all,

*Nelly*

Oh You Just Shout

Well, well, well, it's that time of year again folks. Springtime. A time for the melting of snow, the blooming of flowers, the emerging of all those cute little woodland creatures from Bambi. It's a time of warmth, rebirth, and of course, Doctor Who.

Oh, did I say Doctor Who?



Teh, yeah I did! =D

That's right, series four of Doctor Who starts April 5 in the UK, which means that April 6 I will have seen the first episode. Woot!

This is doubly exciting for me since this year, under sheer force of will (and a lack of time) I made the conscious decision to go completely spoiler-free this year. That's right, me, the spoiler-knows-ever-thing-before-it-happens-lives-on-spoiler-forums girl is going cold turkey. I'm breaking the habit, and hence, I know virtually nothing about this series short of what I learned last year before I made the choice.

Last year, I knew everything. Martha? Check. Rinos? Check. The entire plot of the first three episodes with production images? Check. This year, I know three things:

1.) Donna is coming back as the companion. Which is sweet, because I liked Donna. A lot of people said she was too shouty and annoying, but personally, I LOVED the shouty bits. They weren't annoying at all, and I thought that entire episode was brilliant. But then, I'm also a big Catherine Tate fan, so I might be a bit bias. It'll be nice to see her in something other than a wedding dress!

2.) At some point in the series, in some form or another, both Martha and Rose come back. This is pretty much as awesome as it gets since I think both of them are compete and utter win. The only thing that bothers me about this are the ship-wars that are sure to accompany this, but then, since I don't ship, I don't really care. I suppose you could say, if I ship anyone, that I ship "Doctor/Tardis" or something really random like that. Maybe "Sonic screwdriver/psychic paper" or something.

3.) Agatha Cristie, the Ood, and Rome. Ok, so that's like three things in one, but I really needed to make it three. I know that at some point they meet Agatha Cristie, the Ood come back, and they go to Rome. I don't know which episodes those are, or if they're in different episodes at all. Wouldn't that be interesting?

Doctor: Well Donna, we're in Rome, what do you think?

Donna: Oh Doctor, what is that horrible creature?!

Doctor: Oh my God, Donna, It's an Ood!

Donna: A what?

Doctor: An Ood!

Ood: Would you like a refreshment?

Doctor & Donna: AHHHHHHH!!!

Donna: Look, Doctor, is that Agatha Cristie?!

Doctor: Why, look it is! Agatha Cristie, in Rome, with the Ood!

Agatha Cristie: Hello, all.

Donna: Hello!

Ood: Would you like a drink?

Doctor: OOD!!!

Doctor, Donna, & Agatha Cristie: AHHHHHH!!!!!!

[End Episode]

Now that would be something. Like really, Russell T. Davies should so hire me to write episodes, I clearly have something here.

Anyway, that's about all I know about this series, which is really cool, since last series I knew like everything. I would, however, like to know what on Earth is going on here:

Is he possessed again? Did he spontaneously decide to take up smoking? I mean, we get a great view of the Doctor's eyes here (which, I can't complain about =D) but they look fairly sketchy and wide, like he's either scared or going insane. Maybe he's absorbed some kind of evil alien intelligence? Or maybe he's expelling radiation again, like in Smith and Jones but through his mouth instead of his shoe.

We may never know.

Anyway, so that's my exciting news of the moment. That and I got a job. At a Hardware Store. Woot. Just what I've always dreamed.

"So if you ever see a little blue box, flying up there in the sky, oh you just shout for me, Gramps, just shout."

I cannot wait :D

Cheers all,

*Nelly*

The Terror of the Black Box

Fear in an interesting thing. We all have our own fears, whether it's spiders, lightning, heights, that creaky floor board on the inside of the dark barn in your backyard. There's always something, even if we consider ourselves to be the bravest person in existence, something will inevitably scare us.

What's exceptionally interesting about this is that, at the moment, what's scaring me the most is what generally sooths me. Theater.

I'm presenting a monologue in my theater class tomorrow morning. It's the longest one in the history of monologues, at four and a half pages long and a thirteen to fourteen minute performance time, depending on the delivery of the actor. It's an amazing piece, a very simple story of two friends about to be split up, but it's powerful. It's a story that needs to be told, in it's entirety, leading me and the director to the somewhat scary decision of not cutting any of it. Meaning I've just had to memorize four and a half straight pages of dialogue.

It's not...well, I shouldn't say that. The memorization did scare me, I'm not going to lie, it terrified me when it was first given to me. Today I had a near nervous breakdown just trying to learn my lines, because not only do I have to perform it tomorrow, I have to perform it first. Luck of the draw decides who goes when, and luck clearly wasn't with me yesterday when I drew my card. It probably didn't want to be with me, it gets a bit boring watching me learn lines, I'd imagine, all I really do is sit there and repeat the same sentence over and over again. It probably lost interest and left.

What really scares me though, what completely and utterly frightens me is the story. It's not a scary story, it's just such an important story that it needs to be told right. I need to do this story justice, it feels like I'd be letting the character down or something if I don't. What if I got so fixated on trying to learn it, trying to memorize it down to the last word, that I completely forgot the point of it. What if I get nervous? What if I freeze up? What if I do end up suffering that nervous breakdown before tomorrow and it never gets told to begin with.

The story of the monologue stays silent till someone who can actually handle it can tell it.

I'm so scared right now, of walking into that black box tomorrow. I'm terrified of forgetting, terrified of blanking out, terrified of not getting to the end. It's that fear you get right before you go onstage, that little nagging fear in the back of your mind as you're standing in the curtains, but magnified.

I've been rehearsing this for a week now. Every night. I'm about to do it again. I'm just...I'm scared. I'm so scared of this monologue, but I know I have to overcome it. I can't go onstage in a panic. The character's not in a panic. I can't be scared.

But I am.

*Nelly*

Frankenstein Essay

Frankenstein and His Monster
An Essay by Nelly Nickerson

Victor and the monster are a lot alike. They are alike for a lot of reasons. There are multiple reasons for the fact that Victor and his monster, which to point out to the oblivious, he did in fact create himself, are a lot alike. Their many, many similarities are not particularly apparent when trying to look at them, apparently, and it requires a bit more observation to figure the two of them out. Could it be like the relationship between a father and a son, or is it something more? Is it perhaps the relationship between a God and his worshiper, or God and his Satan? Does God even have a Satan? And if he does, does that mean the monster should have one too? What is the cause of all this injustice? This essay will, maybe, be explaining that.

Because most essays require more than one paragraph, this essay will in fact have two paragraphs. However, the paragraph in question has yet to be written, since the author has just gotten back from a very long, very harrowing rehearsal, preceded by a rather uneventful, though equally harrowing strike, all while becoming increasingly ill, as her sister has given her the cold from hell. Which leads me back to the Frankenstein’s monster/Satan argument that would have been discussed in this paragraph, had this paragraph actually been written. However, because this paragraph was, as previously stated, not in fact written, the argument will not be discussed at this time.

Victor is a man. He’s a scientific man. He’s a scientific man who took things a bit too far when he decided to cut up a few dead bodies and bring them back to life. Ew. He likes to make big, long speeches about how his new creation is going to worship him as a God, then cower in fear when things get in his way. He also likes pina cooladas, and long walks along dark, gothic castles in Switzerland. He’s single, although is technically in a committed relationship with his semi/half/adopted cousin Elizabeth who will, conveniently, be brutally murdered on their wedding night, leaving any lucky single lady the perfect opportunity to snatch him up for themselves. Want him? You can view his profile at www.madscientistsingles.com.

On the 15^th of May, in the Alps of Nool, in the cool of the day, in the ice of the pool, he was splashing, enjoying the Alps’ great joys, when Frankenstein’s monster heard a small noise. So, the creature stopped splashing, he looked towards the sound.

“That’s funny,” thought the creature, “There’s no one around,” Then he heard it again, just a very faint breath, as if some angry mob were calling for death.

“I’ll help you,” said the creature, “but who are you, and where?” He looked and he looked, he could see nothing there. But a small angry mob screaming loudly through the air. “I say,” said the creature, “I’ve never heard tell, of a small angry mob that was able to yell. I’ll just have to save them, because after all, a person’s a person, no matter how small.” So gently, and using the greatest of care, the creature thrust his great arm through the air, and he lifted the mob, and carried them over, and placed them down, safe, on a poisonous clover. Oops. Angry mob = dead. Which isn’t good, children, it isn’t good at all.

In conclusion, Victor and the monster are a lot alike. This is because this essay lacks a second paragraph in it’s present state, because Victor lacks a girlfriend in his present state, and because rehearsing Dr. Seuss for theater class for 5 hours straight is generally not a good thing to do before writing an essay. It proves that Victor is a loser, and desperately needs a hobby, as well as proving that the monster is actually an elephant, and that the author needs to stop looking at the solar eclipse and get some sleep before she falls horribly ill and can’t actually perform her piece for theater. Victor and his monster, they’re real similar, don’t you know.

Keep in mind that this is, of course, a draft. I was trying to memorize the entirety of "Horton Hears a Who" for Theater Class while I was doing this, and I also wrote it the night of the solar eclipse. I'm now off to write the real one.

Wish me luck,

*Nelly*

Um...this is interesting

So...I'm posting an entry using this "Windows Live Writer" thing, which I got when I installed "Windows Live Messenger" so I could talk to my friend in Korea...it's interesting. Like...whoa. I can post on my blog, without having to post on my blog. Is that possible? Apparently so.

Did I ever mention how much I love chocolate chip muffins? Like, out of all the muffins in the world, I'd have to say chocolate chip is by far, my favorite. Next to maybe, cinnamon, or blueberry, or that weird sort of muffin I had at the place one time...what was it called? I don't really remember, anyway, to sum up what I was saying, I love chocolate chip muffins. And when I went to that church camp retreat thing, which turned out to not be all that church-y after all, what did they have? What, out of every type of food in the world did my absolutely amazing host family serve for breakfast Saturday morning?

Yep, that's right, chocolate chip muffins. I love my life.

So that's that then, my first Blog entry posted from the "Windows Live Writer" I kind of like it, to be honest, I think I might post all of my entries from here from now on...who knows?

Ta,

*Nelly*

Tomorrow

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. The sun'll come out, vacation will start, and of course, I'll be off to church camp.

Yep, I'm going to church camp.

To be fair, it's actually a UCC Youth Retreat, which I'm going on to hang out with my cousin. I'm not UCC, but I'm Unitarian, so I'm pretty close. I've been told by my mother to drive carefully and not come back all Jesus-y, so hopefully that'll all work out and I won't die on the turnpike or be born again.

So basically, I'll be leaving you all now. See you in a few days.

*Nelly*

23 Questions

So, while wandering around the internet tonight, since I had nothing else to do due to the snow and the cancellation of two rehearsals in one day, I found this:

http://www.problogger.net/archives/2006/02/14/is-a-blog-right-for-you/

23 questions for prospective Bloggers, questions you're supposed to ask yourself before you register with Blogger and start up a Blog. Oops. Anyway, though I technically missed that step in the "Get a Blog Process" I figured, why not ask myself these questions now? If I still had the choice, would I get a Blog? Let's find out.

Do you enjoy writing? I do, actually, enjoy writing. I'm not a serious writer, I don't write because it's my passion, I mainly write because I'm bored. For me, writing is basically something to keep my mind occupied, I love to do it, it's a fun, challenging way to pass time, but that's all it really is for me. I have a cousin, Miriam, who is a very serious writer, wants to be a writer someday, and though both of us write, it's easy to tell which one of us has a passion for it, and which one of us just sort of...does it. Needless to say, she's a much better writer then I could ever hope to be, and will most likely go on to enjoy massive amounts of success in the literary world, her writing is amazing.

What’s your Message? Um...sometimes life is really boring, but you've got to live through it to enjoy the really fun stuff? Life's a show, when you've got downtime, it sucks, but once opening night comes it's a blast? I don't know. I don't really think I have a message. Again, I only created this Blog because I was bored...

Are you a good communicator? I don't know. I can communicate, that's sort of a given for someone who regularly stands on stage in front of people reciting sequences of lines, but do I do it well? I don't know. What do you think?

Are you better at writing or speaking? Probably speaking. I do it a lot more, and though my written work isn't too bad, and I'm a lot more passionate about speaking than I am about writing. I do tend to go off on long, complicated tangents when speaking, which doesn't really come off as being particuarly skilled, but then I seem to do that while writing too, so I can't be doing too badly...maybe.

Do you want to be the central voice on your website? I’m sort of the only voice on my website, if it’s a Blog. It’s not like anyone else ever posts on here…

Are you a self starter? As in, do I have the initiative to start things on my own? Sometimes. If it’s free, and I don’t need a ride, then chances are, I’ll go and do it without much consultation from anyone. But, if there are reasons for me to have to ask for assistance or reassurance then I’ll ask.

Are you disciplined? Um…sort of. I generally know what the rules are, and for the most part I stay with the boundaries of said rules. I’m a bit…out there, in that I’m very liberal with the rules, most of the time. I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I’m not strict, if that’s what this means, I’m not like “The Enforcer” and though I do follow the rules, I do firmly believe that sometimes you have to break them. Rules aren’t everything, they’re important, but they’re not everything.

Do you have time? Of course not, I never have time. But when I do, I go nearly insane with boredom, hence my getting this Blog.

Are you thick skinned? To a certain extent. When I was in middle school, I had very thin skin, I was ridiculously over-sensitive, and would generally wear my feelings on my face for everyone to see. Now, I’m a bit better at hiding things. I’ve always been very hard to offend, but now I’m fairly good at just standing there and taking things. Unless it’s with my parents, but that’s a completely different story, one that every parent and teenager can probably relate to.

Are you willing to be in the public spotlight? Hm…let’s see. I regularly stand on lit stages in front of lots and lots of people, often making a complete and utter fool of myself, and generally enjoy doing so. You could say I’m willing. However, I would hardly call this Blog “in the public spotlight” as at most I have about 30 readers, and most of them probably have no idea what this is or why they’re reading it. Same goes for theater, really, I’m rarely in the “spotlight” and the few times I have been have been, though a lot of fun, utterly and completely terrifying.

Do you have any technical ability? Not really. I can work the internet fairly well, I use Firefox instead of IE, I have a wireless connection I know to fix when it’s broken, and can use iTunes. I’m also fairly decent at Photoshop, in that, I know how it works and generally know what all the different buttons mean. I’ve just gotten a new laptop, so I’m still trying to figure out the technical aspects of it. With my old laptop, Lazarus, my tech support basically consisted of me turning it off, counting to five, hitting the screen, turning it on, and hitting the screen again. Somehow, I don’t think that quite works with my current laptop, though I’ll admit, I haven’t tried.

Do you take yourself too Seriously? God no. I’m a rambling, over-emotional, over-dramatic, wanna-be actor teenager, and I’m well aware of it. I don’t have the answers to the questions of life, I can’t save the world, I’m not a genius, I’m not brilliant, I’m not God or whoever’s gift to the Arts, I’m just a teenage girl sitting at her laptop in the middle of the night writing whatever happens to pop into her head. I get bored, I flip out over guys, I’m OBSESSED with Doctor Who and David Tennant, there’s really not much that actually is serious about me. I’m here to pass time, if I get a few laughs or say something insightful, then sweet.

Do you have a blend of humility and Ego? I’m constantly catching myself saying vain and egotistical type things, my worst nightmare is being a prima donna, which is sad, because I think I kind of am. It’s a trait I have that I really, really despise, and am desperate to get rid of. I monopolize conversations, I’m constantly talking about myself, I brag, I’m basically a very egotistical person, but I really wish I wasn’t. I really, really wish I wasn’t.

Are you willing to learn? Yeah. I generally like learning, new things are interesting, and learning from other people is especially fun because I love interacting with people. There are some things, granted, I might not be so willing to learn because I’m stubborn, and as I’ve just pointed out, very egotistical. But for the most part, I’m very willing to learn, teach me.

Do you enjoy reading? Oh yes. I love reading, I love books, I love literature, I love basically anything written…except maybe poetry, but there’s a lot of poetry I’ve discovered I like so I guess that’s alright to. My two favorite books at the moment are probably Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency by Douglas Adams, and The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, though I’m also a big fan of The Giver (which I’ve read eight times) by Louis Lowery, and of course, almost anything and everything Shakespeare.

Are you an organized person? Heh. This is funny. Organization? What is this concept of which you speak? I know it not. I’m probably the least organized person on the planet, my life is in a constant state of complete chaos, I look disorganized in appearance (I’m usually wearing several layers, none of which match or are put on properly, and my hair’s a wreck) and my teachers have all just come to the conclusion that no amount of badgering or detention will make my binder any cleaner. On a side note, I have recently purchased an agenda book, so at least I know what my homework is, but I’ve apparently been doing it wrong as I still miss the odd homework assignment. Go figure.

Are you a Social person? Yes. I’m one of those people in need of nearly constant social interaction to survive. I do spend an awful lot of time hidden in my room at home, because I am a teenager and that’s what we do, but you’ll also often see me come randomly downstairs to say hello for no particular reason. I like people, I like talking to people, when I have to drive somewhere for more than a half an hour, I’ll generally try to find someone to come with me, so I’ll have someone to talk to. I’d make a terrible hermit; I’d probably go insane.

Do you enjoy ‘virtual relationships?’ Well…do I enjoy them? Yes. I enjoy most relationships, because it’s all social interaction in the end. Am I any good at them? Not at all. I’m terrible at virtual relationships, I’m extremely bad at responding to e-mails, I hate instant messenger with an utter passion, and generally prefer to talk to someone face to face than to speak with them over the computer. To anyone who has ever e-mailed, IM-ed or otherwise tried to get into some form of virtual contact with me, I do apologize. I have no excuse.

Are you a creative person? I had a friend once (who, ironically, now hates me with an unbridled passion) who told me I was “overly-creative” in that I have really random, somewhat out there ideas, but they come too fast for me to keep up with so I never actually do anything with them. I’m not entirely sure how true this is, but it’s all I’ve really got in response.

Do you have Stick-ability? It depends. Sometimes, no. There are times I’m very bad at sticking with things, it took me till middle school to finally gain the ability to keep a diary, an ability I promptly lost the second I entered high school for some reason (though I have tried) I have several files on my computer containing the very beginning of some big piece of writing or something, but that I almost always fail to finish. However, there are some things I’m very good at sticking with. I’ve only ever quit a play once, because I failed math, and no matter how miserable I may be or how much I may decide I hate the play, I’ll always stick with it till the end. All logic says I should have abandoned this Blog about two years ago, but here I am, nearly a year and a half later, and I still update every two weeks or so. Go figure.

Are you Consistent? Relatively. At the beginning, I kind of thought I’d use the Blog for posting stories and reviews along with my personal thoughts and ramblings, but after a while, I realized that I got more feedback from my “thoughts and ramblings” entries and had a lot more fun writing them then with my review entries. So I stuck to just that.

Are you honest and transparent? I think so. I try to be as honest as possible here, if I say I was happy or sad or disheartened, then I generally was happy, sad or disheartened. When I’m using dialogue, like if I’m telling a story about someone who I don’t really know very well, sometimes I’ll change what they said a bit so it doesn’t reveal too much about them or who they are, but other then that, I generally write things as-is. I don’t think I’ve ever lied here…I think…

Are you willing to work hard? Depends on the work. If hard works means “dragging something very heavy an extremely long distance and having your arms ache for two days afterwards,” then no, probably not, if I can get away with it. If hard work means, “making sure you update your Blog every few weeks or so and trying not to have too many spelling mistakes,” then yes, sure. Why not?

Questions of Fate

Though I am not typically a fan or a believer in fate, there are times I wonder if I'm horribly, horribly wrong. Is there something that guides our choices, sets things out before us and makes sure that everything happens as it should? Do we have our lives almost entirely planned out for us already, and if we do, does that mean we should just sit back and let it take it's course? Do we really have a say in what we do? And are things that people often call "fated" really and truly fated to us?

Questions like these always seem big and important, and often somewhat pretentious if not asked properly, and I wonder, is it something a 16-year-old can really answer? The question of fate. The dealings of the universe. All that stuff you're never really sure you want answered. Can I tackle it? Can I actually answer it? Or am I left to just make a few simple, probably wrong, most likely idiotic but educated guesses?

In truth, a 16-year-old probably can't answer these questions, most of the time no one can answer these questions. But, as a 16-year-old sitting in her room in the middle of the night when she should be sleeping, I can give it a guess.

Let me be clear that I hate fate. I hate the concept of it, I hate the idea of it, I hate the idea that something is predetermined and that nothing you can do can change it. It's not a control thing, it's not a rebellious thing, it's just not something I'm comfortable with. I've never believed in it before, and for the most part, I think I probably never will. But occasionally I'll wonder, I'll really wonder, if I'm wrong. Sometimes things work out in such a way that you really do wonder if it was meant to be that way.

Take this, up until today I've had virtually one goal in mind; to see David Tennant in Hamlet with the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford-Upon-Avon this August. I've been working for it, thinking about it, plotting for it, and generally obsessing about if for a good half a year now. A while back, an opportunity arose where such a spectacular feat might have actually been possible. We had it all worked out, and then suddenly, it failed. It broke apart underneath me, and now it will never, ever, in a million years, ever happen.

Needless to say, I was crushed. Like REALLY really crushed. I'm horribly depressed, sitting in my room, when all of a sudden I discover, not only the song I've been looking desperately for to sing at my school's Solo and Ensemble Concert, but also the mysterious second Doctor Who Album that I've been waiting and waiting and waiting for since September. Both of which mysteriously appeared on my computer, in iTunes, a mere two hours after my wildest dreams were pulled away from me.

I find it interesting that despite the fact that I could never find these things before, these things I wanted so desperately, yet suddenly, the day the one thing I want disappears, they appear.

It's instances like these I find myself questioning my previous thoughts of fate. Can something this interesting, this coincidental, really have happened purely by chance? Is it possible for this to be just a coincidence? Or is it something more? Was I fated to find these things the day I have all my hopes of ever seeing David Tennant as Hamlet shatter, perhaps to cheer me up? Or is, as I previously suspected, merely chance?

It's another moment I find myself struggling between two completely different sides of myself. My mother is the world's greatest skeptic. We call her the "disenchantress" and obviously, as most parents do to their children, she's influenced me in this way. I'm highly skeptical about somethings, but then there's also the other side of me. I'm not sure if it comes from my Dad, or if it's just me, but I also have a tendency to want to believe in the unbelievable. When I was a kid I believed in fairies, now that I'm a teenager, I don't know what to believe. So many conflicting opinions around me, so many things I'm questioning, so many things I'm sure I can listen to.

As I said, this is most likely not something your average 16-year old should be handling. The question of fate, the way life works, it's something you should leave to some famous philosopher, or some high priest, or some kind of weird earthly God-like character. One sleepless 16-year-old should not be deciding this.

In the end, we may never know. And for the moment, I think I'm ok with that.

Cheers,

*Nelly*

Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

OMG, screw headers, this is far more exciting then...well, pretty much anything going on right now, apart from the whole prostitute thing. Anyway...



Squee! Torchwood! It's back, on TV only a week after they get it in the UK!! I swear, words can't possibly describe how excited I am for this, other then perhaps the words I used when Doctor Who started up again last March, but since I forgot to blog about that, this is really all I can say. SQUEE!!!!

And it's Spike from Buffy! Granted, I've only ever watched three episodes of Buffy in my entire life (one of them was the musical, very funny) but that's still exciting! I mean, him and Jack are kissing, how awesome is that? Although, they sort beat each other up right afterwards...but that's still cool too.

What really excites me about this scene though, because I'm a loser, is the camera angles. The way they've shot this has really improved since last season, if that clip is anything to go by. I love the bit where Jack and whoever that is are walking towards each other, just the camera shot is awesome.

And Ianto calls a cab! I don't know why that was cool, I like Ianto, so anything he gets to do is usually fun. He was horribly underused last season, just Cyberwoman, really, and the whole "you killed my girlfriend, now I'm going to snog you" thing from the finale. What was up with that anyway? I mean, we kind of already knew there was something going on between them with the whole "stopwatch" thing a few episodes before, but how do you go from having your girlfriend killed to snogging and quite possibly doing other things to the guy who killed her? Go figure. That's Torchwood.

Anyway, that's my fun Torchwood rant, and I would also like to point out that I mastered putting videos up! Yay! First a header, now a video, what will come next?

Cheers everyone,

*Nelly*

What Happened to the Blog?

OMG, I've got a header! Whoa! Where'd that come from?!

The answer, my friends, is in fact, Insomnia. I couldn't sleep, simple as that, so I decided to make a banner for the blog, as opposed to just a title and description. And so, after about an hour or so of tinkering around in Photoshop, this is the result. Wootness.

I would like to point out that the cat, as featured in the banner, is my cousin Miriam's cat Luther, photoshoped to look blue. I was going to use a picture of me, but then realized that every picture I own of me isn't really worth looking at, and that It's probably not a good idea to post pictures of yourself on the internet.

So yeah, that's what's up with me right now. That, and I'm playing a prostitute in a play.

Oh yeah, did I mention that? I'm playing a prostitute. I'm playing a prostitute. I'm going to be on stage, in front of people, playing a prostitute. Yep, I'm playing a prostitute.

I figure if I keep repeating it to myself, it'll eventually sink in. I think I'm sort of in denial right now.

Enjoy the header folks,

*Nelly*

Messiah Complex

WARNING: What follows is quite possibly the longest blog entry I've ever written. You might want to get yourself some popcorn and get comfortable.

“If you could choose, Doctor, if you could choose who live and dies, that would make you a monster” – from the Doctor Who Christmas Special, “Voyage of the Damned”

http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/tv_and_radio/article3080608.ece

Well. This is certainly an interesting debate. You know, it’s surprising it hasn’t come up before, like, in 1996 maybe?

Just saying.

Anyway, despite the fact that it’s older than it seems, the Doctor/Messiah debate is intriguing, a bit silly, I suppose, and a bit controversial, but still intriguing.

The definition of messiah, according to dictionary.com is “any expected deliverer,” any expected deliverer. It doesn’t mention what exactly is being delivered, to whom it is being delivered to, and who or what is doing the delivering. If you take it literally, the mailman, who regularly delivers mail to both innocent and non-innocent people alike, could be considered some sort of postage messiah. Same with the UPS person, the FedEx person, the newspaper person, and that neighbor down the road who always seems to get your mail because they live at the same number house as you, but on a different street. Whenever they knock on your door to give you your mail back, according to definition, they’re your messiah of lost mail.

So, if a messiah is someone who delivers things, what exactly could the Doctor be delivering, if he truly is a “messiah”. You could argue he’s delivering us from evil, I suppose, which would support the whole “Doctor=God” viewpoint. But then, he doesn’t really deliver us specifically, since he seems to have a habit of delivering various aliens from evil as well. The definition doesn’t say that it has to be the human race that is delivered though, so the argument is still technically valid. The Doctor is sort of the one who seems to save us from untold dangers every Christmas and beyond, if he were, of course, a real person.

However, if you’re using that argument, then there are quite a few other people you’d need to consider as possible messiahs. Superman, for example, regularly saves us from the evils of Lex Luther, the Toyman, and Bizarro. He’s a figure from above, who descends upon the Earth through unnatural means and ends up protecting us from evil. The amount of supernatural powers he possesses, strength, flight, heightened senses, boarder on Godlike as it is. How much more messiah like can you get?

Superheroes, it seems, have a habit of ending up in a messiah like position. As do-gooding, self-sacrificing, deliverers from evil, they seem to lend well to the idea. How many times have we read a comic book, seen a movie, or heard a story of a superhero giving up their last bit of energy, their last bit of life, to save the world? They call it a sacrifice for “the greater good” most of the time, but how is that different than a sacrifice to save the human race? There’s no difference, they mean the same thing. Yet when a superhero says “for the greater good,” it seems to cause much less of a stir than “for humankind”. When a superhero performs a self-sacrifice, they’re doing it for us, usually. Does that make them a messiah?

After all, even in Sailor Moon, people got hung from crosses:

And it wasn’t even those two that were called “the Messiah of Light.”

In the case of Doctor Who, what’s mainly being protested, is not necessarily the characterization, it’s the imagery. In the Christmas special, Voyage of the Damned, the Doctor ascends from the engine room to the bridge by being carried by robot angels.

Ok, so angels, yes, they are in fact religious. However, are there any evil robot angels in the Bible? I think not. I will admit, I’ve never read the Bible, but somehow, I’m pretty sure there’s a lack of evil robots.

The act of being lifted “to the heavens” by the angels-robots is not a religious act. In fact, in the episode, it’s more of an act of desperation than anything. The bridge has been locked up. The doors are dead-locked sealed (which, as we all know, means the sonic screwdriver is useless on it) and the walls are made of metal. Really, the only way he could possibly get up to steer the ship away from the Earth and save to the day, was to break through something. Which, as you can probably imagine, is fairly difficult to do with your bare hands. He may not be human, but unlike superman, he doesn’t have super strength. The only way he could manage it was to smash the wall down with something heavy, namely, two evil robots.

So he has his method of getting in, break down the door/wall/whatever with a few heavy robots. Simple. However, the bridge is above him, like way above him. He doesn’t have his TARDIS, he, again unlike superman, can’t fly, and I believe there’s a fair shortage of flying glass elevators, hover boards, or jetpacks in the engine room. However, what he does have is two heavy robots that can fly. Perfect. He takes the robots, who now answer to his command as he’s sort of the only person in the room still alive and he can shout, and orders them to fly him up and break him into the engine room. It works, he gets into the engine room, and we get to watch him pilot half the controls with his feet. Brilliant.

Now, did any of that have anything whatsoever to do with religion? I think not. He didn’t turn water into wine, he didn’t make bread and fish appear out of nowhere, he just broke into an engine room. It’s also important to note that he didn’t actually save everyone. By the end of the episode there were really only four people left alive. He wanted to save everyone, he was desperate to save everyone, but at the end we still had his frustrated and desperate “I can do anything!” line as he realizes that he can’t.

In the end, of course, it’s just a TV show. It’s just Russell T. Davies trying to tell a good story on Christmas, David Tennant trying to make a good performance on Christmas, and an audience trying to enjoy it all. I wasn’t offended, but then, I’m not Christian. I, as a Unitarian, agnostic, Doctor Who-obsessed teenager was not offended by it. However, if other people were, I’m all right with that. This is just my opinion.

I'd make a very bad God," - The Doctor, Boom Town

Nos da,

*Nelly*

Cheers

So, 2007's done, in the bag, behind us, and now we have 2008 to look forward too. Hooray! Despite the fact that we're only three days into it, I have high expectations for this year. Even numbered years are always better for me, I think...or maybe that's even numbered grades...anyway, the point it, we all hope for a good year. My cousin Stephanie may think the apocalypse is coming this year, but then, I think she said that last year too.

So. Here we are then. Well, here you are, sitting in front of your computer, reading my blog. I, however, and sitting where I usually sit when I type up long, rambling entries, namely, in High School computer lab during chorus.

Ah yes, it's that time of year again. The time when nothing happens in chorus, after the holiday concert, but before the solo and ensemble one. Last year I was able to skip chorus every day straight for about two and a half months (January-late March) since I wasn't in the solo and ensemble concert. This year, since my name has apparently been put on the list of people who are interested, I might not be so lucky. But for the moment, I intend to enjoy this little bit of doing absolutely nothing during the day.

Ok...wow. The librarian just came in and shouted at someone for having gum. She seemed to appear out of nowhere...like she just suddenly sensed from miles away that someone in here had gum, and materialized out of nowhere. Sketchy.

Anyway, what I should be doing right now is starting my English paper. We have this assignment to read a "contemporary British Literature book" and write a paper exploring it's themes. It's due in rough draft form tomorrow. Unfortunately for me, I sort of forgot about the assignment, she gave it to us weeks ago, so not only have I not read a book, I have also not chosen a book, meaning I have a paper due tomorrow on a book I haven't read, know nothing about, and haven't even chosen.

Hooray.

What I think I'm going do though, is just write a paper of complete gibberish and gobbly gook for the rough draft, since I have to be in about three different places tonight, and write the paper over the weekend. She doesn't actually check the rough drafts, to see what they're about, she just walks around the room to make sure we all have one. That way, I'll have three days to read a book over the weekend, and I won't have to try and write a serious paper in the half and hour of free time I'm getting today. See how clever I am?

Of course, if I really was clever, I'd have chosen and read a book by now. Maybe I'll write about Harry Potter...that's contemporary and British. Hm...

Well, the librarian's just walked in and very pointedly told someone how to use something they already know how to use. Since that person's the one sitting next to me, I think it means she's onto me, and I should probably log off.

Happy New Year, everyone.

*Nelly*

The 15 Minute Entry

I have 15 minutes to write a blog entry before I have to get ready to leave. 15 minutes, what can a person say in 15 minutes? We're about to find out.

So, Christmas was a few days back, good holiday, lots of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, not sure why I got so many of those this year, but I did. And it's good. Trust me :D

I also got not one, but two copies of the complete works of William Shakespeare. I guess my parents and my grandparents got the same Christmas list.

I also got a Keane CD, Under the Iron Sea, which I'm listening to right now. Good CD, Keane's my favorite band, so it's sort of obvious I would like it. Listening to Crystal Ball right now, actually, which is, coincidentally, my ringtone.

Which brings me to some other news. Before the whole vacation/holiday thing started, my Dad decided he hated his phone. Now, when this happens, it usually means some shuffling of the family tech takes place, and I usually end up with the exact same thing I had before while everyone else gets someone else's techy thing. This time however, through some rather long negotiations I wasn't present for, and apparently a bit of dancing from my sister, I somehow, by the end of it, found myself with a new phone. It's a nice phone, it's a razor. Basically, it's the same thing as my old phone, except it looks different, has a better screen, better reception, and ringtones. So, I guess, when you think about, it's nothing like my phone, but there you go.

Ok, three more minutes. Wow, I can't believe it's been 11 minutes already, can you? It's amazing how quickly time goes by sometimes, especially when you don't really want it to. I mean, I do want time to go by, this time, since I'm about to go to a party that I'm really looking forward to, but I also sort of want to type out a readable, enjoyable Blog entry, which I may have accomplished, but probably didn't in the past 13 minutes.

Wow, now I only have two minutes! What can I say in two minutes? Hm...no, wait! Now I only have one minute! Ok...one minute, what can I say in one minute? Hm...how about...goodbye! Since the one minute mark has passed and I have to go now.

So, Goodbye! Hope you enjoyed this little snippet of my life!

*Nelly*