Books!

Well, a lot has changed from this morning. I'm $82 poorer, and I have many, many books that I didn't have before. : D I still want all the Jane Austin novels, minus Pride and Prejudice, but I now have about half of the Discworld books.

I love books, and I love sales at the Bookstore. I also love getting money for my birthday.

I Love Books and the Bookstore

Today, at the BYU Bookstore, SF&F and fiction books are 25% off. (And with the added discount I get from my dad, I get almost 50% off.) In honor of this sale, here is the first installment of Books I Want But Do Not Yet Have:

All Terry Pratchett books except for Thud! (own it), Guards! Guards! (own it, though I may need a new copy soon), The Color of Magic (own it), Good Omens (which I plan to buy today), and The Wit and Wisdom of Discworld (which I believe Goober is going to buy for me for my birthday. By the way, did I mention that my birthday is tomorrow?)

All Jane Austin, aside from Emma, which I already own.

There are probably lots lots more, but since I don't work in the SF&F or fiction sections, I can't think of any more off the top of my head.

I think I'm going to allow myself to spend $30 today. I love books so much... oh, though I must remember to leave enough money to pay for gas...

Oh EFY, I Hardly Knew Ye

No, really, that's true. This is my second year being on BYU campus a lot of the time during spring/summer, and I still haven't been inconvenienced, or annoyed, or driven to the point of insanity. Yeah, there are a lot of younger kids on campus, but I'm more interested in watching them than cursing them.

Of course, this might be due to the fact that I never was in EFY, so have no embarrassing memories that resurface when EFY season starts. Also, I work in the Bookstore, a place that doesn't seem to be frequented by these hordes of young 'uns.

Mmm. Lunchmeat.

And then there's the fact (there are a lot of facts) that I am much more likely to laugh things off than most people. EFY students in my path? I take a detour, using the extra time to watch them for character ideas. Loud EFY lunch-eating? I try to recognize the songs and eavesdrop on the conversations.

What? My food is almost gone, yet I'm still hungry? I am so not walking all the way from the HFAC back to the Bookstore so I can get some more food. Deal with it, stomach!

Working the Event Staff

Oh yay for BORING BORING GRADUATIONS.

So I had to work some graduations recently. Or, I had to work one graduation today. For Lehi High.

Without being all rude and everything like I was earlier, I would like to relate two things that I learned today.

One: I often get really snarky when I have been forced to listen to bad musical numbers.

Two: A bad place to get openly snarky is a high school graduation.

The First Archive Post of the Day

Board Question 6629
Posted: July 7, 2004

This question is a response by the person who submitted Board Question 6652, a question directed toward the female Board Writers, assuming that most of them were not very popular as far as dating went, and asking why they were bashing on the pretty girls. He was, of course, met with some rather snarky answers.

Back to 6629, where Ninja4Hire gets even more upset. There was a little bit to be upset over, as far as I could see: in the previous question, Ninja4Hire had signed as someone else and not his usual 'nym, and yet Irreverent had called him by his usual 'nym. However, on the rest of it, I was siding with the Writers. Ninja was angry because the writers seemed to be making assumptions, and the Writers were a little put out because Ninja was making assumptions. Toasteroven responds in his usual open way, and Eowyn insists that she's lived with girls such as these, so she knows they exist and isn't just repeating a stereotype.

Well, that was boring. I should get better at this as time goes on. Now for the reason I chose this question.

"Latro would laugh his petunias off at THAT one." -Toasteroven

If that doesn't make you laugh, there is something wrong with you.

I Don't Think I'm Immature

My dad just said, "Whatcha doin', Bob?" He was talking to my sister, who was bobbing her head. However, I immediately looked up. He laughed at me.

And my mother is getting angry about the new car seat law again. The seat was only fifteen dollars, so she's not as mad about the government making a law that forces people to spend money, but she is upset that the car seat requires a seat belt that isn't installed in modern cars. That's not just money, that's time and inconvenience. She is not very happy with our state legislators right now. And her baby is crying again.

Also, we're watching Enchanted for the fifth time in the past four days. Once on Friday, thrice on Saturday, and once right now.

Anyway, to the actual topic of my blog. Thanks to Goober, I have rediscovered fortune tellers, sometimes called cootie catchers. These never seemed so fun in grade school, back when everyone was making them all the time. Now mine are awesome.

Choose a color: purple (written in pink ink), orange (purple ink), green (orange ink), or pink (green ink).

A fortune teller isn't very easy to replicate on a blog, so I'll skip ahead to the final numbers.

1: Quit falling in love with morons.
8: You're not crazy, you're just a little unwell.
2: I love you.
5: Tomorrow you will wake up, do a bunch of stuff, and then go back to sleep.
3: You will find happiness in strange places.
6: Someone has stolen your heart. You'd better hire an assassin to get it back.
4: Trust me, you don't want to know.
7: 47!!!

There were some that sadly didn't make the final list, including:
You will die knowing 32 men named Dave.
Beware the grinning sheep.
You will fall in love 15 times this week.
You will suddenly become allergic to pink.

Yesterday at Ward Prayer I hopped around forcing everyone to allow me to tell their fortune. Despite my overly cutsy attitude and the fact that I was using a bally fortune teller, I really don't think I was acting immature. At least, not very.

My Sisters Are Odd

Remember my sisters from a few posts ago? The cute one and the odd one? Yeah, they're both odd.

First of, there's Miss Siri. Her favorite movies have always, with a couple of interesting exceptions, been musicals and the like. When she's sad, or sick, or tired yet unable to go to sleep, we just pop in Enchanted or Music Man or Hairspray or Hello Dolly and she's fine/out like a light. Or we do one of the exceptions, Ice Princess, or, I kid you not, the six-hour Pride and Prejudice. She asked for it just this week when she was staying home from school sick. Today I cheated a bit by putting in the pink P&P, or, in other words, the "Mormon one."

And then there's Caiti. We had already established the fact that she hated her swing, which was a shame, since mom bought it for her. We kept trying, though, usually letting her cry for about 30 seconds before stopping the swing and taking her out. Today, Mother was determined to try the swing again. This time Caiti didn't cry right off, but as the swing played Fur Elise and gently swung her back and forth, she put on her betrayed face and thought about crying. Mother changed the song the swing was playing. Caiti looked more betrayed and closer to tears. Mother changed the music to sound, the (obviously fake) sound of a stream and birds. Caiti was asleep within two minutes.

NO KIDDING. She dropped off, just like that. When I tried to turn off the white noise so I could play music, she immediately woke up, so I turned it back on. Later, I compromised by turning her white noise down so I could hear my music.

Mother and Dad came home and did some stuff, and all was dandy. Then Caiti fell asleep and Mother and Dad ran off to BYU to get some prints of Caiti pictures. Not five minutes after they left, Caiti was left unattended (meaning Random was in the same room but not looking at her, not that we left her all by herself or anything) in the presence of dear Siri. Pretty soon I had a tired, slightly affronted Caiti on my hands.

What to do? I bounced her, I walked her, I put her down, I picked her up, I tried her plug several times, I tried every holding position I could think of, I even changed her diaper, and all I got was various intensities of crying. Finally, tired of it all, I put her in her swing. She cried and cried... until I turned on the noise of the stream and birds. It had been set on a different noise when I put her in, and it took me a minute to notice this, but as soon as I changed it, she stopped crying. She is now asleep again.

What is this?

How Did That Get There?

Today, as I put a band-aid on my finger, I started thinking about all the weird ways I have been hurt. There have been quite a few.

There was today's, for example: I cut my finger on my laptop. Yes, on my laptop. Ask Hobbes if you don't believe me. Or my parents. Supposing you don't know any of these people, you'll have to take my word for it.

Not too long ago I ripped my finger open on my braces. It was a rather deep cut.

A few years ago I created a hole in the roof of my mouth. I had been playing with one of those plastic sticks with the propeller on top, you know, the toys that you spin between your hands and release and it flies and stuff... yeah. Anyway, I had the end in my mouth (bad idea), and somehow it was jerked backward. I never went to the doctor for it, but my mom kept checking it, and I ate soup, ice cream, popsicles, and the like for a while.

I have a small dent on the top of my nose. It was created when my cousin knocked a Pringles can off the computer, aiming for her sister. She hit my glasses instead, and the bridge cut into my nose. There was a lot of blood.

I once stepped on a toothpick that my sister had left on the floor. It was vertical rather than horizontal, and the tip broke off, leaving about a fourth of an inch in my foot. My mother had to sterilize a needle and cut through my skin to remove the toothpick, and I had to keep it clean and nice for a while. This was long enough ago that all my friends crowded around to see my wound and ooo and ah, as many elementary school children are wont to do.

Then there was the time I acquired a pretty good bruise by dropping a bottle of carmel on my foot. It was full and landed on an edge, and was so painful I couldn't put on shoes the next day and therefore couldn't go to school.

Hmm... I can't think of any more. It's something of an interesting topic, though. I mean, everyone loves to gather around and discuss gory wounds and all, but I think it's more fun to think about little things that were caused by odd circumstances. Many people have broken bones and things while climbing trees and fences and using trampolines and what have you, but how many can boast a cut from glasses impacted by a Pringles can, a bite on the neck from a crazy 'vampire' cat, or a broken thumb from being kicked in the butt? (Okay, that last one didn't really happen. I mean, his thumb wasn't really broken.)

Another Big Surprise

I should really proofread blog posts before I post them. Can you find all the errors in my previous post?

What a Surprise

Want to know something? Writing is hard.

Take my novel, the one that was based off my very first 'story,' if you care to honor it with such a name. It changed, and changed, and changed again until it became a rather plausible story. And then NaNoWriMo came along, and lo and behold, my idea became a somewhat fully fleshed out story. 50,000 words, a beginning, middle, and ending, the works. I was so proud of myself. "Self," I thought, "good job. You have written a novel. Now let's the second draft."

This second draft isn't going so well. In fact, I stopped working on it ages ago, rethought some things, and am now starting a third draft even though I was only 42 pages into my second. I did that because my story, while still being the same in general, decided to go off in some different directions. And now I have a whopping two pages. Oh, wait - page and a half.

And then there's my other stories, most of which have yet to hit ten pages. Whenever I get excited about a story, I have to leave to go to work or take care of siblings or go to bed. Whenever I set aside an hour or two to type, I go from my story to story to story, occasionally adding some paragraphs, but usually just reading and thinking. Words don't come, I realize my character is a Mary Sue, I don't know where to go from where I am, I need to re-write a scene but I don't want to... my excuses go on and on. And suddenly my hour is up and I have added a whopping 500 words total. If that. Maybe more like 250.

In some ways, I can't wait until NaNoWriMo returns. I remember getting 500 words in 20 minutes, resting my hands for five minutes, and shooting off another 500 words in the next 20 minutes. I remember writing 5000 words in one day. I remember finishing homework quickly so I can write. I remember not wasting time online or with friends because I wanted to write, write, write. And now that same story is sitting like a lump on my hard drive, waiting for me to again glance on it with favor.

If writing is really one of the things I want to do with my life, I really need to learn to push through seeming writer's block and just bally well write something.

?

What do you do when you have no one to talk to and nothing to say?

Bob Says Stuff

I like my job.

I know who Tangerine is.

There are people who like me.

I have a cute baby sister.

I have a cute, and somewhat odd, little sister.

I have a rather clean room.

I'm still occasionally scared of people.

I'm going to go read other people's blogs now.

I Love Google, But...

I now do most of my searching on Goodsearch. Why do I do such a thing? Because these people donate money to the charity of my choice for every non-image, non-video, non-word definition search I do.

No, really, it's a good thing. A cool thing. My charity (The Office of Letters and Light, the non-profit that does NaNoWriMo and Script Frenzy) has earned over a thousand dollars so far.

So! Everyone! You don't have to completely abandon Google, but please find it in your heart to use Goodsearch every now and again. And if you don't have a charity in mind, do The Office of Letters and Light.

The Event Staff Lament

To those of you who were waiting for the post titled “The Event From Hell,” it looks like I lied. ‘Cause there’s nothing like a week and a half to lesson the outrage and annoyance of being confronted with several folks who seem to be forgetting in the good sense God gave them.

And, if I had stuck to that title, I would have been leaving out another lovely event, namely, Women’s Conference.

The joy and wonder of these events has left me with a new installment of Things I Have Been Wanting to Say.

“I’m surprised at how well-behaved your children are, considering the example you’re giving them.”

“Forgive me. I’m a lowly lay-worker. Notice the lack of a power-boosting radio.”

“Yeah, well, some people are jerks.”

“I can only be in so many places at once.”

“You know, ma’am, going from pity-inducing tears to indignant, snotty rage in the blink of an eye makes you seem rather insincere.”

“It’s amazing how you can spend all day being uplifted and edified and then act rude and condescending to everyone.”

“Well, maybe you do know the rules better than I do. After all, I only work here.”

“Could you break the rules any more blatantly?”

“These kids are great, ‘cause they’re at the age where they don’t yet think they know everything and will therefore follow directions. The parents are another story. I say next year, we broadcast from the Marriot, and the parents can watch in designated stake centers around the area.”

There were a few things I actually did say to people though.

“Well, I can’t have dinner until you leave.” (Replying to “It’s hard to eat dinner standing up.”)

“No matter how long you’ve been waiting, these seats are reserved.” (Replying to a rather indignant “I’ve been waiting for two hours!”)

“I get the feeling I’m trying to stop the sun from rising.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t really go kick people out of seats.”

And, my favorite, though no one else seemed to enjoy it.

“Hope of America? Flippin’ Hope of America? Oh, I’ll say these kids are the Hope of America. Looking at most of their parents, all we can do is hope.”

Later, in the staff room, we shared stories. One woman, rated on a scale from one to ten, one being mild-mannered and ten being Nasty McNasty-Pants, was given a twenty-five. A woman went into labor during the Women’s Conference concert, and we jokingly blamed it on the staff member who had insisted she obey the rules. Several people, after only Hope of America, almost wanted to quit; after Women’s Conference, they were pretty sure. I muttered that we should get a $20 bonus for Hope America. Oh, what lovely and wonderful events.