Help!

Last Thursday we played the If game. I read and reread all your comments and laughed and smiled and it was such a success I've decided to make Thursday's a regular feature on my blog. It'll be a day for random games (whatever I come up with) and all around silliness. Because it's fun. And who can't do with a little more fun in their life?

So, after I decided this:

I bounce ideas off what to name my Thursday of epic gaiety with my friend Ramona.

I ask, "Too fun Thursday?"

She shakes her head.

So I try, "Too loose Thursday?" Another no, "No but don't you get it? Everyone will loosen up and stuff."

Still, no. Actually, I'm pretty sure the no solidified.

"Two bit Thursday?"

"Stop with the Too's." She says.

A little desperately, I say, "Two pence Thursday?"

Ramona, tired of my lame offers (I'm not being very original for a supposedly creative person,  I know. I blame it on school. University steals my soul!) comes up with, "Tyrannosaurus Rex Thursday."

I stare at her for a moment, then laughing add a slogan, "We'll bite your head off."

As we're lost to giggling fits like every other mature adult she offers, "Tranny Thursday!"

I exclaim, "We've got it all!"

Obviously, all pretense went out the window and our immaturity got the better of us as we laughed until my eyes watered and Ramona couldn't breathe.

But obviously, all ours suck. So, yet again, I find myself looking to you. Come up with a name for my Thursday games and all around silliness in the comments and I will pick my favorite and it will be immortalized forever! And if paranormal trends are anything to go by, immortality is in.

Thanks in advance. Also, I encourage you to read each others comments because you are all brilliant!

If, If, If

I want to play a game today. 

Well, it's not really a game but I'm drowning in schoolwork and want to be entertained. So, of course, I thought of you. (Cause you've  never let me down. Now you feel obligated to participate, don't you?)

We're going to play the IF game. Your if can be anything you want, I won't discriminate or hate on them. I will love each and every single one. Promise. 

I'll start.

If I were a stand-up comedian, I'd be in for a whole lot of awkward because I'd be the only one laughing.


If the voices in my head ever stop talking, I'd be very lonely. I'd also never finish my book (and I have enough problems with that already - family, why do you encourage post-secondary education?).


If I were a character in a novel, I'd be the villain. Everyone knows they have more fun. Until the hero gets lucky and kills them....


If I wrote books based on my dreams, instead of producing a bestseller like Twilight, I'd produce something as nonsensical as Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass (minus the hidden meaning and general awesomeness). Readers would think I took too many hallucinogenic drugs and in my stupor decided to write a novel.


Okay, your turn. Any if you can think of will do. Also, I promise I'll have a real post on Friday. 


I feel like I'm making you a lot of promises today. Oh well. 

Books, Birds and Knights

(This picture is from here. It looks cute, doesn't it. Yeah, everything's cute until...)

Ramona, being the kind, good-hearted soul she is, offered to accompany me to the University to get my school textbooks for the summer semester.

Sister drives the two of us to my Grandparents house for breakfast. Everyone enjoys some sausages, eggs, toast and cantaloupe. Even the dogs. (Well, to be perfectly honest, I don’t enjoy the eggs because I don’t like eggs unless they’re scrambled.)

In a rare moment of generosity, I pay a dollar for Grandpa to park for half an hour, so he can spend two hundred dollars on textbooks. He didn’t even ask me too. It would have been one of those nice, selfless acts, but he was only there for me. So, it wasn’t. But I can pretend, right?

Anyways, as we walk to the University Bookstore, I see a crow. The crow lands on the edge of the building beside us. I react like I always do when a bird lands in my vicinity.

“Puhlease don’t poop on me!” I do a little duck and dance, putting Ramona and Grandpa (and an extra two feet) between me and the edge of the building, where the crow sits, being all birdlike.

Grandpa looks at me, lips turned downward in admonishment. He thinks I’m being my melodramatic, paranoid self. He thinks birds are nice. “What are you doing? Birds-“

And then I scream.

It’s the best, and only, warning I offer Ramona. A white missile of stench and nasty plummets towards her. Ramona’s head twists around.

If crows had brains bigger than peanuts, the crow would be snickering.

The poop splatters the side of Ramona’s hair, coating several strands. The missile’s momentum mixed with Ramona’s movement causes the poop to spread, peppering her black pea coat with white.

Ramona looks up (not the most intelligent move, just saying). “Ewww!”

Both she and Grandpa are shocked. No one moves for a second.

Grandpa, a knight in a weathered cowboy hat, comes to Ramona’s rescue, trying to wipe as much poop as he can off of her. It’s everywhere.

I stumble, tripping over my feet and then, I die. I die laughing; it’d be a good way to go, if I wasn’t apologizing too. For a fleeting moment, I feel guilty for laughing but it’s so funny the guilt evaporates faster than it came.

My Grandpa’s being very knightly: consoling Ramona and doing his best to clean her up. After a bit he says, “you should go to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, all I can smell is bird poo.”

I can’t catch my breath. Every breath is fleeting. My stomach hurts. I’m still apologizing.

Ramona leaves to clean herself up.

Grandpa looks at me, a small smile twisting his lips. “I’ve never seen a bird poop on someone before.”

Later, after I find my books, Ramona returns and Grandpa leaves us at the school, I say, “If I was you, I’d be mad at me for laughing so hard. It was just so funny because I told it not to poop on me and then it pooped on you.”

Ramona laughs a little (She put a lot of soap on her jacket so she’d smell that instead), “If I was you I’d be laughing at me too.”

“Except I’d probably be mad at you for laughing.”

That conversation highlights the differences between us nicely. She’s the good, light one. I’m the bad, dark one. (Actually I’m probably more [chaotic] neutral, but whatever.)

On our way home, sitting on a bus, both listening to our I-pods, I start laughing again.  The scene keeps replaying in my mind like a movie. I can’t stop it. Eventually she gets annoyed and kicks me.

I guess I deserve it.

I’m happy though; neither Grandpa nor Ramona can mock me for being paranoid anymore.

Paranoia saved my hair and clothes.

This morning also proves that the wicked really do prevail. At least for a while. (Ramona promised that one day a bird (or something worse) will get me).

Word Of The Day: Firmament - The heavens or the sky, regarded as a tangible thing.

Boogers, Balls of fire, and Texting

If you were a booger, I’d pick you first J

The confusion and shock your feeling?  That was my reaction too. Though I may have been more confused, seeing as the comment and picture were randomly sent to my phone from an unknown number. You know who this is from, at least.

What do yo do when you get texts from random numbers? You ask who it is of course. The other person tells you who it is, which is when you get super excited because it's your long lost friend ---- !!

Instead, I get this genius.

Its me???!!! :/

Umm, yeah. If I don’t know who you are the first time, this does little to help.

I text: And who is me supposed to be?

How soon you forget me.... L

Wow, thanks bud. Not only do you feel the need to express your emotions through smiley faces, you are also, apparently incapable of realizing when someone obviously doesn’t know who you are. Seriously, why are people so difficult?

I cut to the chase, not keen on playing this stupid texting game (which is probably meant as a flirtatious overture): I don’t know who this is. Either tell me who this is or stop texting me.

His brilliant response?

Dont be mean to me. :S

Again with the evasiveness! We could avoid all this if you would tell me who you are.

Me, being a girl with infinite patience, turned my text alert off and ignored the eight following messages sent to me. In case you’re wondering, yes every one of them had some sort of smiley face and it wasn’t until number seven that he said: its me, Ted. ;)

The eighth, he finally admits he thinks he has the wrong number.

Umm. Yeah. If you had used your brain Ted, you would have realized this sooner. People like Ted make me worry about the future of humanity. They really do.

I’m changing the subject, but not really because I still plan on talking about text messages, just not about Ted.

This morning driving to my chemistry final I notice the car making strange clunking sounds. The vehicles shaking oddly and I feel the undercarriage rumble ferociously under my feet.

The car’s going to explode. I know it. I pull over and call my mom. I express my fears: the car is going to blow up on my way to school and I’m going to die. She tells me I won’t, that I’ll be fine, Sister drove the car back from Whistler and she didn’t die. I explain that Sister drove on the car’s final legs, saving the death for me. Sister’s good at sharing like that. I inform Mom that if I do die, I will haunt her because my death will be her fault. Mom, calms me down from my hypochondriac (except, it’s not the illnesses trying to kill me, it’s the world) panic attack so I’m free to drive to school with a relatively calm mind. (I say relatively because I’m always thinking about how the worlds trying to kill me...).

Here is the text conversation that followed forty minutes later.

Mom: Are you safe and sound?

Me: Definetely not. I went up in a great ball of fire. It was very painful. My ghost shall now haunt you forever.

Mom: Your cell is amazing to survive a call(car) me(on) fire. You must be a strong ghost to be able to text.

Me: Yeah. Death isn’t as bad as it seems. I guess, My cell, like me, has moved to the other side. But since I died with vengeance on my mind I was granted a tool to haunt you with. See? It’s all about balance. At least you know I don’t have to take my chemistry test! Oh shoot! We never got batteries!!! Ahhhhh. I’m so glad I’m dead right now. [The batteries were for my scientific calculator]

Mom: Oh crap. At least you have your phone! Being a ghost didn’t ruin your humour. That is good.

This was one of my mom’s better texting days. Usually there are many, many spelling mistakes. She says T9 is out to get her. I think, she’s crazy.

I have to get it somewhere.

Isn't text messaging grand?

Galliano Island

So I finally got around to uploading my pictures from this past summer. I know its a little late, considering, you know, the time of year and all. But to be completely cliché, better late than never, right?

I wanted to share some of my pictures (hope no one minds!) because though I'm no photographer, I do really enjoy taking pictures and I think they turned out pretty decent.

This one's a tad blurry, but I absolutely love the colors.

How the trees seem nothing more than silhouettes and the water appears pink and purple.

Some branches I thought were pretty wicked.

I spent a really long time trying to get some awesome crashing wave shots.

I rather enjoy the slightly violent nature to this one.

My absolute favorite water picture.

It's small but it seems rather exciting, non?

Cheerful, almost.

And, finally, my piece de resistance.

The trip itself was amazing. There's a definite magic on Galliano Island, specifically at my Uncle's. I wish I felt my abilities as a writer were strong enough to capture it. But I doubt I could get it just right. So I suppose you'll have to forgive me that. And content yourself with a few snapshots.

[blogger was being really stupid with the formatting of these pictures... it took me like an hour!]

Melissa

Take A Walk

(Photo taken from here: this guy has some really awesome pictures)

In a car, you are nothing more than a passive observer. You’re so used to it you no longer notice. Everything is moving around you boringly through a frame, through the car window, it’s all just more television.

When you walk the frame is gone. You’re there. You’re in the scene, no longer simply watching, and the sense of presence is addicting.

The reaffirming concrete beneath your soles is real. You’re lost among the chaos of the sleepless action. The world around you changes. The change is tangible; you see it in the mismatched trees as one color devours the next. If you’d like, you can reach out and touch the leaves – you can feel the red and yellow bleed into the green.

Do you feel it?

Instead of listening to your playlist like background noise you can listen to the symphony of the street. The unique chorus of people going about their lives, of nature competing with the city for dominance: the music that’s all around us we choose to ignore in favour of this week’s Top Twenty.

Do you hear it?

The whole experience is never removed from your immediate consciousness. You’re aware. Someone is watching you; you’re the actor people wish they were or were with. You’re the one living, no longer passively going about your day. You’re alive.

Do you want it?

Procrastination is productive

“No one wastes time quite like I do; I can waste time like no one else.” (1)

That phrase does a fairly good job of capturing me and my worst habit: procrastination. I never seem to have enough time in the day (I’m sure many of you understand this dilemma).

Today, however, my seeds of procrastination were rewarded with some extremely juicy fruit.

Browsing the library at school in order to avoid reading my psychology textbook I discovered etymology – namely the study of the origins of words and phrases – and more specifically toponyms.

(A toponym is a word derived from a place or region.)

The book Toposaurus: A Humorous Treasury of Toponyms by John D Jacobson (as the title aptly suggests) was the source of two hours of entertainment. I didn’t read the whole thing; just sporadically flipping through pages and stopped whenever my eye was caught (I’m easily distracted so that was fairly often).

I thought I would share some of the more interesting (to me, anyways) findings.

Many of the words and phrases enriching our language come from fictional literature:

Cheshire cat: Lewis Carroll (Alice in Wonderland) is generally associated with the Cheshire cat.
This isn’t true – shocking for a Wonderland Wannabe such as myself. The first appearance of the beloved (utterly mad) cat was actually from a book published 82 years earlier by some guy named Wolcott entitled A Pair of Luric Epistles: “Lo, like a Cheshire cat our court will grin.” Jacobson found an explanation for the idea of the Cheshire cat: Cheshire cheese – hard cheese, yellowish, orange or white, similar to cheddar – was once sold in Cheshire England, and molded like a widely grinning cat.

On a separate humorous note, apparently in the 19th century the expression grinning like a Cheshire cat was followed by eating cheese (cheese, though quite good – in my experience – does not cause one to grin like a lunatic), chewing gravel (umm, does this make any sense to anyone else? Or am I alone in my bewilderment?), evacuating bones (what a revolting image – the Cheshire cat as a zombie).

Lilliputian: comes from Jonathan Swift popular book Gulliver’s Travels. Gulliver’s first stop was Lilliput where the people were one twelfth his size. Lilliputian is currently defined as extremely small, tiny or diminutive. It can also be described as someone who is narrow or petty in outlook.

(The idea of making up a word for a place – or really any word – and using it in my novel and have it transcend the scope of my book and bleed into real life is crazy, in that oddly thrilling way. It’s also now made it onto my list of goals [have at least one made of word become a real word] – I just have to make up a list to go with it now....)

Some more interesting – though not from fiction – words:

Lesbian: There is actually a place on this earth where everyone is called Lesbians – with a capital “L”. In the eastern Aegean Sea off the northwest coast of Turkey there is an island called Lesbos, it is natural then, that they be called Lesbians. So how, pray tell, did the name of these people deviate so far from its original meaning? Well it started because a lady named Sappho (born in 612 B.C.) became a poetess (considered by scholars to be among the world’s greatest poets) and leader of a group of young women who were dedicated to the cult of Aphrodite. The great affection she expressed for these girls was the cause of the change in meaning.

Dollar: In the 16th century in Joachimsthal (now in Czechoslovakia and now known as Jachymow), where the Counts of Shlick resided and minted coins that came from their family’s own silver mine. The coins were known as Joachimsthalers which locals shortened to thalers. When the thalers reached the land of the Dutch, the word thaler was altered to daler, which the English rounded out to dollar. Any coins now minted in Jachymow would literally glow in the dark since they have switched from mining silver to mining uranium (What would you do for glowing money? I know I’d do just about anything – it’s so cool!).

Cheap: It goes back to the Latin word cauponis: merchant. The word later emerged as ceap an Old English word meaning to barter or sell (this lasted into the Shakespearean period). As the “c” in ceap changed from a hard “k” sound to a soft “ch” the meaning also changed. In London, England, a major bargain center was called Cheapside – Londoners could barter with merchants to buy goods at low or cheap prices. This was instrumental in changing the word to its now inexpensive definition.

I hope you guys found this information at least half as interesting as I did!

And remember this lesson: procrastination can be productive.

(1) A line from Wooden Heart by The Duke Spirits.

Word Of The Day: Pejoration - change in a word to a less respectable meaning. (Cheap is an example of this)