Sir Yum

Awwwwwe-soooome.

Also, if you haven't watched the interview yet, you totally shooooo-oooooould. [head tilt, grin]

Word seems to have gotten out

Any illusions I harbored about keeping my Trek addiction in the closet at least where my extended family is concerned were officially shattered Christmas morning:



Merry Christmas meeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! Um, wow. I'm extremely excited (and overwhelmed with everyone's generosity!), and ...also a little embarrassed. I'm going to have to throw out some stuff, move things around, and find prominent storage space for an entire shelf's-worth-o-Trek somewhere. Darn. :)

In less geeky news, it's my parents' 40th anniversary today! Yay!!! Months ago, my mother sneakily went through old albums and collected photographs of the two of them over the years, and had them put into a slide show set to old songs of theirs. Since May, she's been giddily looking forward to today when she could finally show it to my dad. She wasn't disappointed -- he cried through the entire thing, then insisted on watching it four more times.



Happy 40th, 'rents!!!

One more sleep :)

Also, he looks funny in a moustache

I really love Charlie Rose. He gives the best interviews -- he asks intelligent questions and really draws people out. And if he's interviewing someone I already find interesting... well!

The following interview is with ...Patrick Stewart. Surprisingly though, I found and fell in love with this not through of my recent obsession with Trek, but because of my longstanding love of British Theater (the interview takes place while he played Macbeth in spring of '08). It's a fascinating interview, Stewart's passionate and insightful, and it makes me wish desperately that I could have seen Macbeth when it was in New York.

It's 26 minutes long, but if you have a little time, it's seriously hawt totally worth it.

Stupid thing won't imbed right because it haaaaaaaaaaates meeeeeeeeeeeeee.

In which I am pathetic

Aww, I fail at blogging, guys. I'll post something substantial either tonight or tomorrow night. I've got like three ideas in my head, but taking the time to type them out is completely beyond my grasp/outside of my range of priorities. You know those 9 yr old girls who confide every detail of their angsty, giggly lives to their diaries and/or long desperately to be a writer? Yeah, I was never one of those.

I believe the phrase is "panicked euphoria"

Gaaahhh. Life's entered that crazy busy Christmas season, whence it will not emerge until January. In the last week, I've attended four Christmas parties, one friend's church Christmas program (Mary & Joseph: The Musical!) (no, i'm not joking), and come to the realization that it's mid-December and I've barely started my Christmas shopping. And I've got social get-togethers as far as the eye can see -- Wednesday, I'm baking gingerbread men and watching Run, Fat Boy, Run with Kathleen & Courtney, Thursday I'm hanging out with Michele, Friday's Kasey's birthday party, then this weekend is the weekend o' Jeffiner. Then I've got a TNG-athon with Catherine at some point (Cath, are you planning on bringing netflix dvds home? call me...), along with a variety of other hang-outs at times yet to be determined including perhaps a Christmas party at Shel's, and of course Christmas proper and the annual New Years Party.

Fun overdose!

Not that I'm complaining, friends. Not that I'm complaining. :)

I am a little worried about the Christmas shopping though. I'd be fine if so many things didn't need to be mailed.

BUT IT'S ALL GOOD! It's totally good. CHRISTMAS CHEER!!!

[twitch]

This is why I have a blog

It's an exciting life I lead.

See? SEE??? This is what happens when I don't set a schedule for myself. I never. Blog.

Last night, Kasey came over for a Trek & Pizza Night of Awesome, and it was, as you might imagine from its title ...awesome. She came over at about 6, we got down to watching at about 8, and didn't quit til about 2. That's six solid hours of Trek: 3 TNG episodes, the new movie, and all the new movie's special features. It was hardcore. I then stayed up to finish Robin McKinley's The Outlaws of Sherwood, and I'm not going to say all the Trek's been affecting my brain, but I may or may not have kept picturing Alan-a-Dale in a visor. Catherine, you have so much to look forward to.

I missed church today (which may have had something to do with the whole me staying up til 4 to finish my book after the Trekathon thing ...my priorities not always being entirely what they ought to be), then spent most of the afternoon washing dishes, doing laundry, and cleaning. I've gradually over the last three years turned into someone who keeps her apartment relatively clean and tidy, which is, honestly, quite a shift and something I'm very pleased about. I still don't quite live up to my mom's precedent, but I do consider myself to have taken a step in the right direction -- keeping my home relatively clean is one of those things I consider to be a staple of adulthood. It still takes an imminent houseguest to make me clean my bathroom and I don't own a vacuum cleaner, but, well, babysteps.

Other notable events of the last few days include a massive snowstorm, me almost slipsliding my way into a head-on with a van, a red semi-truck with human skulls on the dashboard hovering disconcertingly below my office window, me finally getting a start on my Christmas shopping, and an inaugural wearing of the new scarf. I feel sort of like a turtle with it on, but it's really pretty, so we're going to try to ignore the whole drowning in yarn sensation and concentrate on the colors. Mmmm, seafoam green.

Oops

Good thing it's December, because I completely forgot to blog last night. I've decided to keep my blog, but I'm not sure how often I want to post. Every day seems like a bit much, but I'm pretty sure I'll stop altogether if I don't set myself a schedule. I'll be thinking about that.

It's funny that earlier this year (or whenever it was) I was arguing in the comments on Catherine's blog that technology makes me feel more distant from people, because keeping a blog and exchanging comments with you has made me feel much more connected and close. I think it's all in how you use the technology -- without the back-and-forth in the comments I do just feel like I'm shouting into space, which is worse than not shouting at all, but the exchange is kind of like having a mini chat most nights, which is very nice. Ohio and Kalamazoo (and ...Shannonland. Kansas? Yeah, Kansas. Right? Totally right.) don't seem so very far away.

...Aaand now I'm late for work. Laters!

We all knew this day would come.

Ew, folks. Ew.



I have no right to complain (considering it's December and we get snow in October not infrequently), but I did so enjoy it holding off for a bit. I really wouldn't mind winter so much if it didn't actively try to kill me every time I tried to drive somewhere. I only live a mile from work, and this helps a ton in reducing the chances of me slip-sliding my way to an early demise, but still, that mile can get pretty icy -- I can't count the number of times I've slid past the road my office building is on. I do like the whole white Christmas bit, and snow is very pretty and peaceful, but until transporters are invented, I remain officially Not a Fan.

In cheerier news, I have a purring Gracie cat in my face. I've switched the cats (who eat out of the same bowl) to senior food, since Funkel's just turned ten and was starting to show signs of needing it. However, senior cat food is more caloric and Gracie (age 2.5) is already a bit tubby, so I've been trying to give them less, which means they get hungry a good few hours before it's time for me to feed them. And when Gracie, who's usually a bit standoffish, wants to draw your attention to something (like an empty food bowl), she gets affectionate. (She is seriously the most manipulative creature I have ever met, but she's reeeeeally cute, so she gets away with it.) This means I've been getting more than my usual amount of Gracie affection, which is pretty awesome. I should have thought of starving her months ago.

Personally, I'd want to know whether he loves me.

So, this is the part where I hope my more obscure interests won't fail to hold yours. This is a very brief clip of Fiona Shaw reading a poem by Bertolt Brecht. I love this clip. I don't generally connect with poetry, actually, but once in a while I really do, and I like this poem a lot. If this clip strikes your fancy and you're more into poetry than I am, there's a few more of them out there -- I've found (or been pointed toward) her reading Becket, Elliot, and Donne so far.

Fiona Shaw, despite her tendency toward playing minor comical and villainous characters onscreen, is considered to be one of the greatest classical stage actresses of her generation. And, for those interested in Harry Potter, not only does she play Petunia Dursley, the surprisingly slim young man holding the poem for her is the guy who plays Dudley. (They're in a production of Mother Courage together showing in London this fall.) (Which I want them to bring to the US.) (Soon.) (Please.)

An entire section on alien prosthetics? SWEET.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. I managed to forget what real life feels life for a few days, which constitutes a great break in my book, so, mission accomplished over here. Lots of sleeping in, good food, friends, and family made it pretty awesome, too. Also, my uncle came bearing unexpected gifts, so I now own the new Star Trek movie, complete with the second disk of special features which I generally scorn as a waste of money that only fools would buy into, but as soon as someone else bought it for me became the coolest thing in the world which I watched every second of immediately. Good times.

In semi-related news, it was a good move getting a second cat, no matter how jealous Garfunkel sometimes gets of Gracie. I came home today after four days at my parents' and his general demeanor said, "Oh you're back? I remember you. Well, pet me as long as you're here." This is a vast improvement over the first time I left him on vacation, during which time he would not eat, drink, sleep, or use the litterbox until poor distraught Jennifer went out and bought the Happy Kitty Hormone Plug-in of Happiness the vet recommended. "Also," said Garfunkel after I'd been home a few minutes, "could you refill my water bowl?" Because apparently the blue came-with-a-box-of-Easy-Mac bowl is the only one he'll drink out of anymore -- the extra I put out was untouched but his usual bowl was bone dry. That insane excuse for a self-sufficient predator would die of hunger or thirst completely surrounded by water and food if it wasn't in his normal bowl. Because even if he's emotionally more well-adjusted, he's still crazy.

Dear Lord. Thank you that Dad was only joking about eating the cat. Amen.

Folks, I'm going to be at the 'rents through about Sunday (turkeyturkey!), and since my uncle will probably be sleeping in the only room with an internet connection, blogging is not likely to occur. See you again on Sunday!

Haha. That totally counted as today's post. Win.

Knit one, purl two, shoo cat, purl one.

I haven't been sketching in the last week or so (somehow got busy again), but I thought I'd share a picture of the scarf I finished a few weeks ago, just in time for winter:



And because you can't really tell from the above picture how absurdly thick and long and burly and ...thick it is, here is it on:



(That's a very ...dramatic picture of me.) You still can't tell how long it is, but it's going to stick out from under my coat (if it even fits inside my coat), and it's too thick to wrap around my neck more than once. I almost unravelled it to try to make it thinner, but eh. It'll be warm.

Things I like

The vocal stylings of Alexi Murdoch.
Fun, stupid movies.
Gracie coming over to me on the couch and without provocation attacking my sweatshirt string.
My Star Trek screensaver.
Low lighting.
The soundtrack to Ghost.
Feeling accomplished.
Holidays on the horizon.
This goat.
Did I mention Alexi Murdoch?
A basket full of knitting materials and a recently finished scarf.
Rearranged, visually appealing bookshelves.
Alexi Murdoch.

All this on the same night? Yes please!

Kaboom.

I just spent the evening at my parents' talking about politics and the economy, which is what we ended up talking about the last time I was there as well. I think we need to get it out of our system before Thanksgiving... because Thanksgiving brings with it, as usual, the potential for the perfect storm. This year's cast includes the extremely conservative in all things religious and political with a short fuse Uncle, and the extremely liberal in all things religious and political with an even shorter fuse (and louder voice) Friend of the Family. As the catalyst, we have the three members of Holly's family who are used to not having to worry about what they say around the dinner table.

My dad is particularly good about zeroing in on exactly those topics one generally avoids at dinner parties; it's not a good conversation if we don't talk about religion and/or politics. (Which, to cut him some slack, are I admit the things I find most interesting to talk about, too... but we sometimes disagree on when one should and shouldn't bring them up.) However, he's trying now. Serious snaps for effort. When I was a kid, he'd set'd off rounds of familial fireworks practically for kicks and giggles, and I remember more than one summer at the grandparents' where I was told to pack up, we're going home early.

But the last few times someone's blown up or stalked off, it's generally been triggered by something small and only vaguely related to the economy (or insurance, or the environment, or affirmative action) which someone (usually not my dad) has accidentally said without thinking. People's fuses are getting shorter and shorter these days, including mine, to be fair. I'm so very very glad I'm not dating Ex-Boyfriend-of-the-Crazy-Politcs anymore. I still tend to project all of my political frustrations onto him a year later, and I think I'd have murdered him or had a coronary by now if we were still dating. (Or, y'know, be engaged to someone I have little respect for, but that's a completely different blog post.) At any rate, think peaceful thoughts for the Holly Household on Thanksgiving if you think of it.

Ugh.

Nothing can leave me feeling depressed like sitting on the couch and staring at a screen for hours. Gaaahhh. I've been working on a header for my blog since dinner, and, well, this is the part where being a perfectionist sucks. I'm not done yet, my muscles have all atrophied, my eyes are strained, I'm very sick of ST:TOS, and my life feels empty, empty, empty [echo, echo...].

I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow, but what all this adds up to is that I've sorta put in my blog dues already and I don't feel like a very long post tonight. More tomorrow!

Picard's *way* hotter than Kirk. (Sorry, Shatner.)

So here are my reactions to last night's introduction to Trek:

William Shatner doesn't look like William Shatner.

5 Year mission? This is sounding like Gilligan's Island. Also, that's negativity for you -- assuming your show's only going to last 5 years. Of course, it only ended up lasting three. (And, like, a million movies, to be fair.)

Am fascinated to learn that the first Redshirt was actually wearing blue.

The sexism in TNG is subtle. The sexism in TOS is ...not subtle. (Although snaps for effort.)

Uhura's a cutie! I think I'd only ever seen the actress when she was older. She's very, very young here.

So, I got on IMDB to double check the title of this episode and noticed there's a Season One: episode zero ("The Cage"). I paused and read up on it a bit, and it puts together a lot of random scraps of information I knew -- the Captain Pike background story, the fact that Roddenberry originally wanted Majel Barrett to play the first officer and was told it was too controversial, ...this, etc. I love behind the scenes info.

Kirk's an ass.

It is SO WEIRD to see William Shatner acting serious. I'm way too used to Boston Legal Shatner.

I've seen major elements of this plot in at least four TNG episodes so far that I can think of.

The sound effects are A. May. Zing.

There's some remarkably cutting edge camera work in this, and a surprisingly engaging plot.

BLAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Sulu. (I swear all I'll ever think when I see him is the Scrubs episode where Carla and Turk get married.)

Uhura's supposed to be Swahili?

The phasers. Ohhh, the phasers. So cute!!! There's like a half second pause before people react.

Aww, I heart McCoy.

I love how truth serum is a staple in any/every sci fi or fantasy story.

Woah, Kirk just had a Picard moment! He got all introspective and philosophical for about a second and a half. I gather this won't be a trend.

The background stills during the credits are all from episode zero, not from the episode I just watched. I love it. Giggle, snort.

That just about wraps it up. I've actually been up to some non-trek-related activities lately, but stuff like this is so irresistibly bloggable. Not, like, birth of Christ bloggable, but fun nonetheless.

Where no Holly has gone before

Readers, I'm about to watch my first episode of Star Trek: The Original Series. I'll let you know how that goes.

So far, the DVD menu design is even cheesier than TNG's (which, actually, I think is kind of cool, in a cheesy, geeky sort of way ...sort of like the show).

Folks, this is going to be epic. I can feel it.

Open dissent may be our only recourse. Unless they didn't notice. In which case, playing it cool works too.

As you may be aware, Sarah Palin came to the GRap today for the kickoff signing of her new book, Going Rogue: And Other Phrases McCain Came Up With For Me to Use. A good friend of mine (who shall remain nameless) works at a Christian publishing company here in town that I'll call Z... Evangi... books. Now, whether due to the political and religious culture that Evangibooks has the deserved reputation for cultivating, or the fact they've done a book on Palin in the past, Palin paid the company a friendly visit while she was in town this afternoon. This inspired a twitteresque chain of email updates from my passionately liberal friend, the essence of which I will try to reconstruct below:

Friend:
2:58: SARAH PALIN IS IN THE BUILDING.

3:02: SEVERAL OFFICES DOWN FROM MINE.

3:07: SHE IS GETTING CLOSER. I CAN HEAR HER VOICE.

3:08: I AM HIDING UNDER MY DESK.

Me:
4:27: Update? Have her eyes turned you to stone yet?

Friend:
4:43: She's gone now. They issued a formal request that all employees line the driveway and cheer for her on the way out. I... may not have complied. I suspect I will be yelled at.

A formal request, folks. From an employer to its employees that they show support for a political figure. With possible consequences for failure to comply. Can my friend possibly let this lie? Should s/he not stand up in the streets and fight? The gaping maw of justice must be satiated! Does my friend have grounds for a lawsuit, o my readers???

In case the good company of Evangibooks somehow finds this post, I should point out that my friend would never actually sue over something like this. Even if my readers and I decide it's deserved.

More icons!

I thought I'd pull out and share some old ones, made either in college or just after. There are things I'd do differently if I were to do them now, of course, but for the sake of preserving history.... The first section is of a variety of miscellaneous images (feel free to ask if you don't recognize something and are curious), the last section is of Maggie Smith. For those who weren't aware (heh), I went through a big Maggie Smith phase in college.

Tragically, when I bought my new computer last year and transferred all my files, I lost every Maggie Smith and Fiona Shaw (who is actually even more awesome than Maggie Smith) picture I'd collected over the years, including everything I'd created on Photoshop. By the time I noticed a year later, thankfully, I didn't care much anymore. What I've posted below is what I had on Photobucket at the time.


1. 2. 3.

4. 5. 6.

7. 8. 9.

Maggie

10. 11. 12.

13. 14. 15.

16. 17. 18.

19. 20. 21.

22. 23. 24.

In which there is griping

Today was Monday, and it really acted like it. I doubt Mondays are honestly any worse than any other week day, but my defenses are down from the weekend and I'm generally peeved just to be back at work at all, so everything irritates me more. (I'm supposed to GET UP? SERIOUSLY? $%#&.) Despite the bad rap Mondays get, I never used to think they were any worse than the rest of the week, but I think I find it harder to get up than I used to. And it's hard to face the day with a good attitude when your first thought is, "OH DEAR GOD PLEASE NO." Also, my new pants, while fabulously slimming, are about 5% wool and a bit itchy. I have pink welts all over my thighs from scratching all day. On the upside, I was dressed up a bit more than sometimes and therefore got to prance around the office all day thinking, "Yay, I look sharp." Which is nice (if creepy staring coworker boy stays tucked firmly away in his office), but doesn't quite make up for Monday hideousness. And I did end up going to dinner with Kathleen and Noah, which was serious good times, but the day was pretty hard to save at that point.

I am of course very grateful to have a job at all right now, but gratefulness has no place in a good bitchfest.

It's like weekly Christmas, except I get fined if I keep the presents.

I am establishing a new Sunday tradition in the Life of Holly: oversleeping and missing church going to the public library! It sank in recently that the main branch of our city's public library is actually open limited hours on Sunday, so last week when I tragically found myself without anything to read, I scooted myself downtown and came away with the aforementioned Rose Daughter, several cds, and ST:TOS, season one, disk one, on dvd (haven't watched it yet; review pending). It was basically the best Sunday afternoon ever, and this week, I decided, called for a repeat performance. It was, again, everything I hoped it could be.

I was surprised at how perfectly a Sunday library visit fits into my schedule. Weekdays I work roughly 9-6-- not a schedule conducive to library visits. (I hate going in the evenings; being in any location with fluorescent lights after dark reminds me of either studying or hospitals.) Saturdays I'm always busy with something, and it's really just the perfect lazy Sunday afternoon thing to do. It gives me somewhere to go to get out of the apartment, I can pretend I've accomplished something, and I get to stock up on all sorts of entertainment delights for the coming week.

Half the fun of a Sunday afternoon is in keeping things spontaneous, but I can definitely see this becoming a tradition.

Rowan Atkinson is awesome

In which electronic communication occurs

Monica and I had the following exchange today:

Monica on Twitter: I am in the process of assigning people to get me seasons of Doctor Who from the Amazon sale for Christmas. Who is taking season three?

Holly on Email: I'll get you Dr Who season 3 if you get me TNG season 3, 4 or 7. ...I'm totally serious. ...Although I should point out I'd be getting the better deal, financially.

Monica: Yes you would. You horrible girl. But if TNG goes on sale I’m all over it! Or would you be okay with used copies? Or… Best Of sets?

Holly: Nope. I require each season to be new. Shiny. Without flaw or blemish. Sealed by the factory with tender, loving care in delicately folded plastic wrap. Each season is only $41.99 right now on Amazon -- that's down $30 from the list price. *wheedle*

Monica: DVD snob.

So if anyone's looking for a way to drop $40 or so on some appreciative friends by way of early Christmas gifts, I hope this helps.

In other news, my friend Kasey is having a conversation with Robin McKinley over on Twitter. McKinley's responded twice to her so far. I... I am not that cool.

Icons!

Of what else? I do have photoshop on my old computer, but using it would involve coaxing Fritzy awake and transferring a lot of files back and forth with a thumb drive, which always sounds like more work than I'm up for. These were therefore done with Microsoft Office Picture Manager and are pretty simple. I'm pleased with them, though.

1. 2. 3.

4. 5. 6.

7. 8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

13. 14. 15.

16. 17. 18.

In which I do very little

Tonight was another tired, uneventful evening at home. I ate dinner, did laundry, read, and feasted upon the chocolate-capped bourbon balls Kathleen and I made yesterday at our girls' hangout night of awesome that I tried so hard to tell you about in my last post. My roommate's not home, I have a Christmas-scented candle lit, and I'm about to fold some laundry.

I've been making a concerted effort lately not to over-book myself -- I love being social but if I don't get enough time to myself I start to feel drained. Also, I have a need to nest sometimes, and I hate a messy apartment -- which mine invariably becomes if I spend too much time away. Also also -- and this is a big thing -- the first step to me getting back into my art is giving myself time with my sketchbook. This seems like a simple piece of logic, but after years of simply not having the time, getting back in the habit of taking the free time I now do have and using it this way is surprisingly difficult. Or at least it was until recently. Now that I've acknowledged art as such a high priority (I've decided to go to art school, if anyone doesn't know) and have gotten excited about it again, the impulse to pick up my sketch book when I have a free evening is slowly (SLOWLY) returning. Win!

But this evening, after such a late night last night, I just let myself curl up by the lamp and pick away at Rose Daughter without much thought to the future. At least, no future past a hot shower and a warm rice sock to take to bed with me (and maybe another bourbon ball).

I'm remembering why I hate Blogger

It's 12:14, I haven't showered yet, I'm very late for bed, and Blogger just ate the post I've been working on for 35 minutes. Argle bargle frick frick frick. Recap:

Kathleen and I are awesome at baking.

My dad looks like Tom Brokaw. Behold:


Dad:



Tom Brokaw:



Freaky.