It always rains on Tuesdays

It always rains on Tuesdays.
Think about it; I guarantee you that it rained all but one Tuesday last semester.
Rain on Tuesdays is inevitable.

I love the rain. It is so cleansing, so peaceful, so mellow. None of this lightly sprinkling now! If it is going to rain, it better rain. Give me some of that peaceful chaos ye cumulo nimbus clouds! Come at me dense precipitation.

Are you an inside person? Well, if you are, then rain is the perfect kind of weather for you because in my personal opinion, rain entices the attention to be directed outside. Something is just absolutely fascinating about the juxtaposition of the chaotic happenings outside and the calm and stillness of the inside.

An inside person would be drawn to the window to view this spectacular display of the heavens' release.
Rain can do those inside people some good. It might drive the outside people absolutely nuts for the time being, but a little calm chaos could do everybody some good.

Weather - pathetic fallacy
Rain - it's not limited to destruction or a damper on your day.


"Rain, rain, go away, come again another day," What, so we can live the next dust bowl? Ridiculous! teaching our children to not embrace the rain.

"... the sun may brighten your day, but if I had my way, I'd take the rain." Eli Young Band

Take it or leave it, but at least give the rain a chance to "settle with your mood" and accommodate your plans.

Conversations: fostering those people

I cannot count how many times I have had this conversation.
It is one of those absent-minded conversations that we are guilty of having. The robot pre-programmed response comes out as your thoughts are already occupied with other greater and more important things (upcoming elections, financial planning, more ways of being environmentally friendly, and marriage duh).

My mom always has this response as I ask her for a choice in music: "I want the people!" (meaning Foster the People)

This morning I replied the same. And then I continued to say, "Of course I want the people; I always want the people. The people are the people I want and mainly because they are fostered. Don't you just love fostered people. I am so happy that people are fostered. My life depends on fostering people I love. So, let's foster the people all the way to class shall we?"

And thus, another illogically planned conversation. It needs some modifications.
As do the hundred other pseudo-conversations I have.

I suppose the real question would be, "Where are my thoughts, really?"
I'll try to remember to figure this out as I absent-mindedly reply to your next question.

I'll Foster the People forever. And If you are making progress on my last request please let me know: http://www.takeitorleaveitbutatleastthinkaboutit.blogspot.com/2012/02/please-create-this-song.html

Take it or leave it, but at least think about the quality answers that you could be investing in as opposed to the same ole same ole.

Conversations: cheesecake

"This cheesecake tastes better than The Cheesecake Factory's cheesecake." - me
"It IS from The Cheesecake Factory!" - katie
"Oh, I see." - me

Pointless.

People, please stop giving me food. This includes: cheesecake, doughnuts, pizza, bubbly drinks, coffee, candy, cookies, or anything processed. I welcome: bok choy, kale, rice, tofu, naked smoothies, kalamata olives, falafel, dolmuths, tomatoes, extra butter for butter lovers popcorn, vegemite on toast, and slim jims (Tabasco flavored).

No more fried ANYTHING. Or else it will all go to my legs and the sunbathing cheesecake for spring break will not be a pleasant sight.

Dinner Clevers and Heist Endeavors

Day 1 - in the making
Pasta dinner was on the horizon, which meant a salad heist was inevitable.

 Friday night dinners in the cafeteria are always hoppin' with hundreds of spectators consuming the freshly cooked deliciously nutritious meals (well... ). We situated ourselves by one of the five tables that were occupied in order to give us some cover for the pending intake. Backpacks were at side with appropriately suited containers inside. Quickly evading the salad bar lady, we scurried off with our baskets piled high of lettuce.

Sketchy? Who would ever take lettuce to go? We would, we did, because we are sketchy and cannot grow our own food. An entire 11 x 14in container and we were set for the upcoming Cajun Pasta Dinner. And a big thanks to the Immigration Conference letting us take a nice vat of Tazikis' Greek dressing off their hands.

Day 2 - the making
Pasta dinnertime had arrived in the kitchen. Our ingredients organized on the counter, the skillet on the stove, and at that moment all of our problems and experimental errors were hatched and would continue to be throughout the remaining time.

Let me interject here that the overall time for cooking should have been 20 minutes tops; little did we know that the problems we would face would increase our time to an ultimatum of 2 hours and 20 minutes. Low on blood sugar to begin with, all outside factors changed our reaction capabilities. When a problem(s) arises, you have to be creative. [The World is Flat by Thomas L. Friedman "collaboration, innovation, and connectivity" reference.]

The stove top did not work, so we packed everything up, and hauled it up the hill to another kitchen. [exercise score 1.]

The new kitchen destination was occupied so we had to wait quite a while catching the tail end of "Forrest Gump." [exercise score 3.] And then aha! the kitchen was ours. We Cajun chickened it up like a boss. Noodle time. We reckoned that the egg noodles in a crock pot would have been fine until 15 minutes later the noodles were not cooked all the way through, rather they were steamed. We had steamed the noodles! Mushy and incredibly disgusting, I wish I could accurately describe the taste for you. [exercise score 15, who knew that cooking could entail so many trips up and down the stairs? Well, we do now.]

In conclusion, the mistakes were rectified; much innovation, collaboration, and creativity/connectivity was had, and Team Cara & Katie were exercised Cajun Pasta experts.

In the end, the dish and endeavors were quite a success despite the complicated efforts. And we didn't start any fires, another positive.

Take it or leave it, but at least think about how much more wonderful the end product of your efforts always turn out as opposed to the slightly less satisfactory but still wonderful end product had everything gone as planned.

Cajun Pasta night was definitely an adventure.

Bunkbedding: dangerous

Well, this post is grotesque. You have been forewarned.

A year and two weeks ago I took a big fall, to say the least.

My rooms and I had bunked our beds, and one morning as I was descending from the end of the top bed, my foot got caught in the sheet. I landed on my desk, then my chair, then the floor. The living daylight had literally been knocked out of me. I could not breathe, my entire body was in pain, and I thought that I was going to die. I was down for at least 2 minutes, frozen in the fetal position - not quite sure about what had happened - as far as I was concerned, I would never walk again. My roommate, who had been sleeping for she had a later class, half in a daze, remarked, "Maggs, was that the printer?" I squeaked out a "no."

It was go time. The initial shock and pain had finished its first stage, and I had to keep moving - I was NOT going to miss my class. I crawled to the bathroom, switched on the light, and panicked from what I saw. Blood was everywhere. Had I hit my head? How was I going to get to the hospital? How do I make the blood stop? Where was the blood even coming from? WHAT DO I DO? I need my mummy. I can't think clearly anymore; maybe I actually hit my head. My shin had swelled from a slight bump to the size of a blueberry muffin in just the time I had been lying there! Wait, how long had I been lying there on the cold bathroom floor? Did I go unconscious? Oh no, the pain was coming back! Why? I didn't have time to think about the pain - I had to keep moving.

My thigh. Weird to say. But I think I fractured my femur. My eyes zoomed to the puddle of droplets that were collecting around my toes. Oh thank goodness! I had only split my toe in half! Oh good, it wasn't coming from my poor head. Well, there goes a toenail and some bone marrow - least of my worries.

I had to isolate the problem. Now I had to form a plan of action. 

"Quiet," I kept telling myself. My suitemates and rooms were still asleep; I would not wake them.

Community bathroom! What a brilliant idea! Oh no, there are people. Wait! I like people. People can help me. Go!

Quiet now. Turn off the light, grab the tape and gauze. Where did I put those? Where is my First-Aid kit? Oh no, it's at the back of my closet in the most inconvenient place. more noise. Blast! Now tape, Scotch will have to do. Now, it's to the people.

Open the door, close the door, left foot, right foot, left foot, more blood... only a few more steps, the creaking of the bathroom door - I've made it. I've made it this far. Now, to the sink. Water; I drink water. I shower with water, ahah, that is what I will do - shower my foot with water. Tap, sink, foot. In goes the foot. Stinging pain, oh the stinging pain is sending shots of electrical shocks up my leg. Voices, I hear voices. Are the voices causing the pain? No, they are friendly voices. Friends are people. And people can help me. Suddenly, I start hyperventilating. Everyone is in a frenzy. I shall panic too! I don't know what to do; I don't know what to think - I will follow the motions of these friendly frenzied people. A blur it all becomes. I am drifting. My face is wet, I taste saline. I am thirsty. 

What is the time? I have to go. Yes, I'll be fine. I mean, I have to be fine, right? What can be done anyhow? I need to go to class. Let me limp. What am I going to wear? Oh dear, jeans will not do! Sweat pants, Sperries, t-shirt, corduroy jacket, and scarf. I look like a hobo. 

Quickly now. Hurry along dear one. I am sitting at my Spanish class desk. Blast! I forgot pain medicine. I cannot concentrate. A class photo, really, and I have to squat. This is a true test of my endurance, surely. Tears, that is the word for that saline solution, I could feel them now. Two hours later and I limped to the nurses office: 

"Can I please have some gauze? (holding back tears)" 

why?

"Um, I sort of fell out of my bunk bed and I need gauze, thanks."

how much do you need?

"20 sheets"

Well, I can give you 10, and any more than that I will have to charge you.

"well, give me what you can. please. now. so I can go die."

pardon?

"10 will be fine, thank you."

12 months and 2 weeks later the bruise is not quite gone; however, knotted. I can still feel it. And, if I press my shin too hard it will swell up again.

Thus, the story of my unfortunate incident. What can I say? I did not hit my head, and I have extraordinary endurance. Climbed stairs and Vail Hill like a hoss' boss.

Gruesome pictures:

There's that hobo in the back.

So: Aftermath, I don't have sheets on my bed. Never will again. Only the mattress sheet, a down comforter, and my quilt cover. Quite European and less painful, I'd have to say. 

Heels, Meals, and Immigration

I had even done a test run with the pre-packed backpack the night before. I wasn't even halfway across the bridge, and I knew that it was a bad idea to wear my 2.5" heels. Business dress calls for nice shoes, and I'm pretty sure that Chacos are not acceptable.

My usual walk to class is approximately 5 minutes. My heel-ed walk to class added an extra four minutes to the excursion. Obviously it was the shorter strides and balancing factors that increased my time by half. Bad news bears.

I took a brief breather at the library, a sit in the caf to coon (as in a racoon smuggles) a bagel and time to gulp down some coffee, a trek to class, then work.

I had had it. There was no way I was going to walk to the conference in my heels, up hills, quite possibly a quarter of a mile more until my destination. By then I had 6 blisters. I completely bare-footed it all the way back, and you would be surprised how uncomfortable the gravel and pebble-paved sidewalks are. As I passed three separate tour groups, I took it in larger stride (literally) as I paraded past in my footless business attire.

"Come to our Uni., where you can bear (bare, feet that is) all free!"

The extremely flat feet, the one double-jointed toe, black nail polish residue from Step Sing, and multiple blisters AND the one foot that is half a size smaller than the other one + the brilliant idea of heels I had = pissy and in pain. Someone carry me. I need a sherpa.

As I soak my feet in a tin bucket out here on the back porch sipping my Dublin Dr. Pepper in one hand and my fishing pole in the other, I think about how much free food I cooned today.

Immigration Conference volunteer = awareness, inspiration, and healthy non-caf food.

Please invent a high-heel Chaco. Thanks.

Signed,
A flat-footed person.

The Literary Tablet

Kindle, Nook, Tablet, IPad, whichever you will.

A class presentation hypothesized about the efficiency of the "tablet."
I understand that hundreds of books can be stored on such a device, and with only a few hours of charging to last days, and entire library can be turned into a planner-sized source of all literary works.

Mind you, the weight averages:

• 5-inch Tablets: 6" x 3.2" x .4" @ .75 lbs.
• 7-inch Tablets: 7.5" x 5" x .5" @ 1 lbs.
• 9-inch Tablets: 9.3" x 6" x .5" @ 1.2 lbs.
• 10-inch Tablets: 9.8" x 7" x .5" @ 1.4 lbs.
• http://compreviews.about.com/od/buyers/a/Tablet-PC-Size-Weight-Guide.htm

Just think, moving day just became 10 boxes less of a hassle.

And, no one ever has to worry or Pinterest about the perfect library setting ever again! Because the world is at the palm of your hands, or you can take your palm wherever you want around the world and are not limited to space because of the bulkiness that books embody.

Tablets are great! No doubt about that.

But I want you to just think about having your favorite book of all times on that tablet. You can read it wherever you go, and whenever.

However, you loose its cover, its originality in its truest form, special quality in that when it is a tangible book, it is its own - not mixed in with the others that may not quite be its equal. 

And most of all, you loose the essence you add to a tangible book that makes it your own: the oils on your fingers cannot permeate every page, the scent of its antiquity cannot be inhaled, and the wear and tear on the corners cannot reflect its value to you.

All you have is an electronic device that can delete your favorite book's existence. How sad it is, that you can emotionally remove yourself from such a great work at the touch of a button. If you wanted to get rid of a tangible book, you could burn it and at least have some symbolic significance to its' ashes.

Down with the tablet. Buy paper books. (you for sure won't be saving any forests, sorry).