Well, that's even more than less than unhelpful.

Umm. You Made It.

Here it is. All of my diabolical thoughts laid before your eyes on the interwebs. Enjoy. Or don't enjoy. As long as you feel some sense of any emotion, then I've done what I came to do. Take over the world.

Latest

Restoration and Horse Shite

So, I’ve now been settling into the Thooft way of life for a couple of days now, which includes copious amounts of swimming, riding horses, falling off horses, gardening, eating, worshipping, community, coffee, late night movies, Doctor Who Marathons, going to market, and waking up at 7am. Because my body clock is still resetting from 4 am.

All in all, fantastic. I think right now I’m moving into a period of restoration and thriving. As of last weekend, I am officially down 15 pounds this summer (and 25 pounds total) since high school (when I put on tons of depression weight because of the move). I am now officially back to pre-depression weight. And loving every minute of it. It’s amazing the stages we go through in life, the weird twists and turns, the ups and downs, and the dragons in between.

I’m feeling restored spiritually, physically, and mentally. This morning I started The Supernatural Ways of Royalty, and let me tell you, it’s got some good stuff. It’s about getting out of the pauper mentality and embracing the inheritance we have as sons and daughters of the High King. Real good stuff.

Anyways, when I’m not running about madly or dashing off, I’m wiping horse shite off my shoes. Or bum. Depending on whether I can manage to stay on top of the horse. Love you guys.

Awkward Hugs with Lord Voldemort

Blimey, it’s been a while since I’ve updated this. (Seems like the way most bloggers start their posts–boring. So scratch that.)

OH MY GOD THERE’S A MONGOOSE BEATING UP A RABBIT WHILE JUMPING ON A POGOSTICK AND YODELING IN FRENCH BACKWARDS!

Much better. Well, the summer in Iowa is done (thank God)* and I’ll be heading back up to Minnesota in three days…three days…wow, now that I write it (type it–semantics)…it seems even closer. Time to pack! New this year, I won’t be heading back to the cities for school, instead I’m going to be heading even further into the northern expanse of Minnesota–Bemidji. Why?

Well, for the same reason any crazy student would change their completely feasible career major of English Literature for the completely less feasible career of Special Effects in the film industry. That’s right folks. I’m switching to art, with an emphasis in sculpture and digital design, in hopes of landing a job working with film conceptualization. Think Weta Workshop.

Which reminds me. Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman(both from a completely magnificent British series called Sherlock) in The Hobbit are going to be absolutely brilliant. Not to mention Richard Armitage. Oh, British actors. You warm my heart. (And a shout out to Michael Fassbender, my new discovered actor over the summer, who gave Magneto some real flesh and did some amazing evasive maneuvers in Centurion avoiding crazy Picts. )

So. Bemidji. Gonna live with really great friends, the Thoofts, and I’m convinced it’s going to be absolutely brilliant. I can’t stop using the word brilliant as a description (there’s a tiny David Tennant in my ear saying it over and over). Maybe I’ll default to Christopher Eccleston: it’s going to be FANTASTIC.

And somewhere in all of this I want to end up in Scotland. So you explain my life path. It’s an adventure.

Well, that’s what’s happening here.

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Doctor Who Calendar Candy

Cat and Jess got me this Dalek advent calendar last time they were in Scotland for me for Christmas. Cat warned me that the chocolates inside were rubbish. I love them. So apparently, I like really cheap chocolate. And now I’m coming to the point where I’m realizing that within two weeks I will be “across the pond” in Scotland. Where I can eat them. The Chocolate. Not Cat and Jess. In Scotland.

It’s been four VERY LONG years since I’ve been over there. And now, the way that God does the things he does–spontaneously, I’m headed back over. There really aren’t words to express how excited I am about this opportunity. Last time I was there, 2007, I lost my heart. Plain and simple. I can already tell that this is going to be life changing. For better or for worse. Right now–I’m tipping towards for better. It’s my chance to test the waters. And just be bloody brilliant.

My spring break is going to be crazy busy with homework and work (as I have to do all of the work that I’ll be missing when I’m over in Scotland) but it is so worth it! That’s right, folks. I’ve been confined to the city for Spring Break. Could be worse. But it definitely sucks not hanging with the family.

Also. I’ve now made it 29 days without soda. I know, I know. Crazy. Now it’s just convincing myself to wake up early enough to hit the gym. It’ll happen. Someday.

Oh. And I’m going to do something. Someday.

Raise your pints to Scotland.

Before He Was Professor X: He Had Hair.

Yup. He had hair. Just saw the trailer for “X-men: First Class”. So stoked for that. Yay, Erik and Charles rivalry. And mostly “yay James McAvoy”. The only man to ever make me fall awkwardly in love with a goat. Ultimate X-men was the comic series I grew up on and I’m really excited for the adaptation of their earlier lives. (Oh! And soon–the new spiderman series–is going to be directly based on Ultimate Spiderman! My super absolute favorite! Mark Bagley=best graphic novel artist. That is all! Woohoo!) So excited about those.

And about every other superhero  movie coming out this year (except for Green Lantern). Why Green Lantern? From what I’ve seen of the previews, I’m not so interested. Ryan Reynolds can’t be Deadpool and Hal Jordan at the same time. (Although, arguably yes he can–as they are separate Marvel and DC universes–but I simply refuse out of principal.) And then that raises questions about the fact that the Human Torch and Captain America are going to be played by the same actor. (Which doesn’t really bother me as it’s been longer–although, arguably he shouldn’t be allowed to as they are in the same Marvel universes–but enough with the technicalities!) I’m even more interested in Thor. And that’s saying something. (And mostly only for the Norse mythology). Well, also for the fact that IT’S ABOUT THOR. Right then. But most excited for: the third in Nolan’s trilogy featuring Tom Hardy as the bad guy “Bane”. Don’t recognize him? He was the lovely British man in Inception–the forger.

So lovely.

Needless to say, it’s going to be awesome.

Saw “The Social Network” this week. Wasn’t really impressed. After all of the buzz that I heard, I was totally expecting this to be way better. Yeah, it was well done. But really REALLY not interesting. But maybe someday I’ll be more interested in stories about people screwing over their friends for the new guy. Maybe. Hopefully not. Although–to some extent–I must admit that I found Eisenberg’s neuroticism hilarious. What else did I see this week? Zombieland.

That’s right. I thought “Zombieland” was better than “The Social Network”. That shows how much taste I have: zero. But come on. It was hilarious. And way less gory than I thought it was going to be. Just remember.

DOUBLE TAP.

For the Win.

Oh. And I have bronchitis.

My Bronchi Think That I Don’t Need Them Anymore.

SO. I’ve now made it nine days without soda. I know, so impressive. I got to visit the Lovetts this weekend! It was amazing, just living with them, just something so right about all of it. Got to hang out with Cat, Jess, Kayla, her future husband Justin, Aslan, his girlfriend (Sammie!), Kristian, Chris, his wonderful rocker wife (Jackie), and the fabulous Jairus and Sonny. Oh! And I got to see Jeremy and his wife Jackie. It was great. Oh. And a jumping spider from Albuquerque. That Jess decided would be a great idea to let loose in the basement. In the words of Jairus: “ish”. Says me, the one terrified of spiders. Not bugs. Not snakes. Just spiders. Who knows what that little sucker was up to. Jess wasn’t so worried. I was. Luckily, I didn’t have a run in with him; although, there was a bit of cobweb on my blanket, which means that one was lurking near.

Besides that: everything was perfect. I cried. I do that every time I visit them, and the reason is this: they actually believe in spiritual warfare. Everywhere else I go, people (even christains–and I would argue–mostly christians) like to joke about it and act like it isn’t a real thing that we have to deal with. Which is completely frustrating. You can’t read the bible without picking it up. As C.S. Lewis once put it “You don’t have a Soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.” I get freakin terrified when I think about the fact that there is a spiritual battle being waged over my soul, and at the same time it is COMPLETELY IRRATIONAL to be afraid as my soul has already been won by the good side. It’s just dealing with the fact that there is evil and there is good. So often in my life I shove spiritual warfare on the back of the bookshelf behind everything else because I want to forget that it actually happens. I’m afraid of it. And then I go to a place where spiritual warfare is acknowledged and it’s like a slap in the face every time–realizing once again that spiritual warfare is all too real.

And yet. I go back. Again. And again. And again. And you know why? I’d rather not live in ignorance.

There. There I find real love. I find real grace. And I find a real acknowledgement of who God really is. These people are living out faith. Every day. Every hour. There is something so right in all of it. And so I keep going back. And I hope to never stop.

Cat and Jess. When you meet this people, your life is altered, whether you want it to be or not.

Well. That’s that. Gosh I love them.

Also, on a side note. I think I’m developing bronchitis. Got the lovely phlegmy cough coming on. Hence the “my bronchi think that I don’t need them anymore”. Well. That’s all.

Soda Barricuda

I’ve made it. 3 days. Without soda. Unremarkable and yet totally remarkable at the same time. Because I love soda. If I could have an affair with a soft drink it would have to be coca-cola; however, as I can not, and there is no use pining away as nothing will ever come of the relationship, I have decided to kick ‘im to the curb (as my grandma says).

So. Yeah. 3 days=milestone achievement. Besides. I’m gonna need to get off my soda fix before I hit the Thoofts up. They just have NATURAL things.

I should write more, but as of right now, I have a bunch of homework to finish, and I must wish my dear friend and room mate Chelsea Hernandez a fond farewell partay tonight as she heads off to Turkey tomorrow for three months. She’s so mexican. And awesome. That is all. When you’re white (and really German) Mexicans mean alot to you. Or really any other ethnicity, really. Unless they’re Jews. Just kidding. But seriously. I’m gonna eat so much guacamole.

And now a parting gift to make you laugh:

If You’re Already Mostly Dead, It Won’t Be Nearly As Painful.

Remember that time I decided to be healthy? Bullocks. It means that I have to wake up at approximately 6:53 AM–I realize this is a very exact number–but I need at least seven minutes in the morning to stumble around my room blindly while I get dressed before heading to the workout room, mind you, I did bump into a few things, but considerably less things than I thought I would. So. It’s now 7 AM. Go into the hallway, fill up my waterbottle, and make the trek to the workout room. Biked 7.67 miles on resistance (not fun–but as I’m a barely functioning human at 7 in the morning it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as when I go at night) and then I walked for a little over a mile on the treadmill. And now….I have way too much time to kill.

Well, by “way too much” I mean about an hour. Waiting for my roommate to get out of the shower…so I can shower. I know, I know, duh. And then I still don’t even have to be to class until 9:55 AM. So yeah. I guess I could crack out Ye Olde Histoire right now. Might do that.

Or go on hulu.

………………………

Sodas this week: 0

Lost episodes this week: 0

Pages of King Arthur Research Paper written: 1

Work-outs: 1

Transfigurations: 2

…………………..

Also. Finished up season one of Lost yesterday (watched an astounding four episodes AND did my homework). So, as a tribute to season one, and the beginning of season two, I will now insert propaganda.

Stargate, Ovens, and Very Small Rocks

It’s sitting right there. On my desk. Staring at me. It never stops. Usually, it blends into the background of the clutter. And, mind you, when I say “usually” I mean “never”.  What is it? The first season of Stargate SG1. That’s right folks. It just sits there, all the while silently entreating me to watch more episodes. Mind you, the last time I watched any was late September/early October. Why? Some good friends lent it to me. And I watched the first disk.

I might have watched the first episode on the second disk, but by this time I was starting to get in over my head with musical practice and homework. It is now January 30th. I’m a bit behind. Something really has to grab my attention in order for me to watch it, and as I was already bogged down (and had plenty of reasons to watch other wonderful movies and television) Stargate SG1 went on the back burner.

Logically, I should make a resolution to start watching the rest of it. But I won’t. At least not yet. After all, I am working my way through all of Lost again. Lost is just so, eh, gripping. There’s something about it. Instead of gushing on and on about how much I love Lost (as I have already done so many times and will likely do in the future) I will just leave it at that: gripping. Stargate SG1….not so much. But hey, I’ve only seen around 5 episodes, so who am I to say it’s not…gripping?

The reason I just told you all of this: I’m starting to figure out that I put things on the back burner when I’m not wholly interested at the moment. Whether relationships, the Bible (definitely–I hate reading it–which is another problem in itself), or things I should be doing to get healthy. So. I’m going to try something new. Fostering the relationships that I do such a good job of placing behind other priorities. I’m going to try to pick up “ye olde histoire” (the Bible) in the off chance that I get interested. (Actually, I really do like from around 1 Samuel to 2 Kings [not alot I realize] but I really enjoy the adventure in them–the fall and rise of kings, the battles, the epic Homeric qualities.) And, the final resolution: getting healthy. I’m going to try to kick my soda habit (and my “eat pizza twice a day” habit–yikes!) and start biking more regularly. In MN, you ask? That’s what the fitness center is for.

So yeah, Stargate SG1 is going on the back burner. Everything else–is coming forward.

Ummm. Today.

So. Dollar tree. Everything’s one dollar. Crazy. I know.

I get stuff there sometimes. Today:

1. “Whales” crackers. Basically goldfish offbrand that is so much ridiculously better tasting than goldfish that goldfish should be the offbrand.

Endangered species are just that much more satisfying.

2. Alpine “spiced apple cider” packets. So delicious. Not nutritious. But when all you need to add is water, its perfect.

3/4. Two books. Worth 35 dollars, but combined cost 2 dollars. SWAG.

5. A 3 liter of grape soda. That’s right. 3 liters. It’s like a baby full of delicious carbonation.

6. Chow Mein “beef teriyaki flavor”. So WAY better than yakisoba or whatever-the-actual-japanese-name-brand-really-is. Delicious. And foreign. Cough.

And so ends the foray to Dollar Tree. Got to skype with the Huang twins today. Was a lot of fun. But what was just as fun was introducing my family to the idea of skype. With just a few hiccups in the road, we are now skyping. Like maniacs. Well, we’ve done it once. Grandma, if you’re reading this, you should download skype. Then we can talk into the wee hours of the morning.

Speaking of which, my grandma–AKA G-Dawg–is one of the most intense grandmas ever. She stays up even later than me! Needless to say, she rocks my socks. I’ll be in bed at 1:30 am and get a call from her asking how my day went. Absolutely brilliant.

Went to Perkins. Ordered a short stack and a side of french fries. No. I’m not pregnant. Just odd. I can’t help it. For some people its the stars, for others its freedom, and still others its the ocean floor. Not me. French fries are my calling. Or rather, should I say, chips. With some vinegar.

Mmmmm. Chips. So delicately crispy.

Ah! And I got the go ahead to go with the stormtrooper one-act from my professor, so that’s all tied away.

Yup. Just my life so far today.

And right now my roomate, Kari, is eating pancakes. Not just any pancakes. Blueberry pancakes. (This is important because the only thing she’s been talking about for the last 2 weeks is blueberry pancakes.) So. She’s eating pancakes. With bacon and eggs–that are all leftover from the Perkins run earlier today. Okay, so this little mexican chica, orders the “tremendous twelve”. It has 3 eggs, 4 pieces of bacon, breakfast potatoes, and comes with, I wanna say around 4 pancakes. Needless to say, she didn’t get much down at lunch. And thus my day has been reduced to watching her slowly consume this amount of food.

Also. Eh. Nevermind. I’ll tell you about it later.

WEEZY HURLING

So. I’m falling in love with Weezer all over again. Mind you, I ‘ve only done it once before, when their “Red Album” came out, but the second times the charm. It’s just that now that I have a job, and I can listen to my ipod for 3 hours of interrupted time, I’m finding myself coming back over and over again to Weezer. (Well, and Mumford and Sons, but that just goes without saying.) Last time I was home, I was able to rip the new Weezer album “Hurley” onto my mac.

Admittedly, I wasn’t too impressed the first time I heard it. Hold the phone, right? But then I really started listening. And the songs? They’re hilarious when they aren’t completely on. But here’s the thing. They’re almost always completely on. They do a good job of serving the truth hot on a plate. The track “Where’s My Sex?” seems like it would be a great national anthem for North Central students. Now I CANNOT STOP LISTENING. Just so good. I might even prefer it to the “Red Album” (and that’s big, considering I’m obsessed with the “Red Album”.)

And. The cover has Hurley on it. I mean, you just can’t go wrong with Hurley on the cover.

No One Can Resist the Smile of Hurley. It Yells "BUY ME!" in a Really Nice Hurley Way.

Speaking of which, I’ve starting watching Lost from the beginning again. I know, I know. Crazy sauce. But it happens. I happen to be one of the ten percent people who actually appreciated the series finale. So good. There’s just something so great about Lost–it gives me that feeling you get when something is just SO RIGHT–when your heart swells and you feel like it’s going to break outside of your chest. That same lyrical line in the music never fails to hit me exactly in the right spot–sad, but true. Besides the emotional impact of Lost, the show alone was just brilliant. And by brilliant, I mean that it had a lot of academic sub-text. Many of the characters were named after famous philosophers (ie John Locke and Desmond Hume), there were copious amounts of literature referenced, and tons of science mumbo-jumbo that I’m sure I still don’t understand.

The really sad part is that I firmly believe that another show like Lost will never again occur. At least not in the next fifteen years. You just don’t get originality like that anymore. Well, I have five more episodes to go and I’ll be done with season 1. (I started on Sunday–a pretty good feat considering there are 24 episodes in the first season and I’m a full-time college student with a steady job.)

So. Weezer. Hurley. Lost. Just plain good.

To Stormtrooper or Not to Stormtrooper, That is the Question.

Well, it’s been a bloody long time since I’ve updated this. Actually, I’m not sure how long it has been; however, I am fairly sure that it was at least before Christmas holiday which was WAY back in the middle of December, and I’m beginning to suspect, that it was even before Thanksgiving holiday when Into the Woods was going on. In other words–terrible blogging.

I’m a serial blogger. I blog to kill. Wait. That came out wrong.

It’s just that, when I’m consumed by other tasks, this goes on the back burner. Like a serial killer trying to appear normal. Okay, horrible metaphor aside, I’m just not great at following a routine. Unless of course I’m at work. Where I’m required to have a routine. (Hello, prospective future bosses!) That being said, I am now…drum roll please…gainfully employed! Woohooo!

Cue “Money, money, money…money!” Trump theme song. That’s probably copyrighted. And I might just possibly maybe definitely get sued for that one. Or at least fired.

Donald Trump does not approve.

Right, well then. What do I do, you might ask? My  least favorite thing–cleaning up after people, more specifically, taking out the trash at the university. Which is great fun when you’re in the dead of winter in MN. All complaining aside, it is actually great. No uniform. Get to wear the nose ring. No verbal communication. Get to have an ipod. Basically perfect.

Aside from the “surprise boxes” in the ladies’ room. I like to call them the “Hell No! boxes”. But that’s besides the point. Well, underneath it. Possibly above it or rather near. Not beside.

So, most of my time has been occupied by trying to juggle this new position and the copious amounts of homework sent my way. But I  do have a research paper on King Arthur that I should be working on very soon, so that should, at the very least, make things interesting.

Although, I might find it difficult trying to convince my professor that King Arthur was a very astute man in regards to the migration of coconuts. Get on with it!

Something else heading my way: I’m taking scriptwriting. We have to write a one act and short screenplay by the end of the semester. Hugely daunting tasks. Here’s the thing: I kind of sort of definitely want to do mine about a stormtrooper. A stormtrooper who is an artist (and/or dreams of participating in the intergalactic ballet) that must hide who he truly is in order to serve the empire. His dreams will never fully be realized, as he will die on the death star at the end of the one act because of Luke’s lovely aim. I’m thinking of making it less of a comedy and more of a focus on repressed people (by goodness, there are so many monty python references in this today!), more specifically, the lead stormtrooper who wants to be more than what he is. He wants to create; I’m also thinking of maybe having some internal conflict regarding whether or not he should be for the republic or for the empire. Just a few thoughts. Had to get that off my chest.

Couldn't resist. What with the Donald Trump reference above and all.

Right then. Go to bed, you sodding idiots. It’s 2:24 AM.

If Life Is A Highway–Screw Automobiles–I Want A Jet.

Right. Well, I had an idea. A really good one, in fact. But it just so happened to disappear. So gone. Long gone. Like Moses through the corn. (Insert Acknowledgement to The Black Keys Here.) My word count was just at 33. Right after the parentheses; however, now that I’ve stated that word count, my current word count is at 57.
Yeah, I’m not gonna spend the rest of this doing that. As mildly entertaining as that would be.

Bret's animated counterpart (Moses) is just as confused.

Well, it’s not like everything is set in stone anyways. What am I saying? I really don’t know. Just kind of typing whatever pops here. But trying really hard to leave out the really extraneaous information. Such as “Miguel and Tulio, Tulio and Miguel, mighty and powerful gods” which is from The Road to El Dorado but really has nothing to do with anything. But then that reminds me of the line in that movie “to err is human to forgive is divine” which reminds me of theatre literature class because I had it scrawled on the top right hand corner of the yellow handout. Someone said it first. George Bernard Shaw? Not sure. But that reminds me of Joan of Arc. (He wrote St. Joan.)
Which reminds me of a pageboy haircut (which for a second makes me think of a book in the public library in redwood falls that I read when I was in middle school about how to become a knight) but quickly changes to the fact that I had a real bad mushroom cut for the majority of my little-ness years. Basically until fourth grade-ish, I’m going to say. Which makes me think of that other time in my life when I totally looked like the tough guy from the breakfast club. Yeesh.
Family pictures taken of said haircut. I should say my family plus the guy from the breakfast club. I was practically his stunt double. Had I been alive when that film was created.

And this is what your face looks like right now.

Right. Sometimes….nevermind.

Those Russians And Their Potatoes For Making Vodka.

Well, right about now is the time when I should be studying for my British Literature final that takes place in t-minus six hours. But the public school system has failed me–they’ve allowed me to b.s. every document and test since the invention of the wheel. They’ve encouraged me to procrastinate and then use my eidetic memory to scan things for a couple of seconds and then remember them. They’ve rewarded me with good grades for slacking off. Eh.

This wouldn’t be such a problem if I wasn’t in love with Beowulf. Which was the first text we read for this class. Which left all other texts in its wake. Which left me unmotivated. Shakes fist at Beowulf for being so awesome. Because who really cares about Pope, Dryden, Herbert, Marvell, or Gray? Tyndale? (Okay, he gave us the bible, but I mean, who the hell does he think he is?!) Beowulf, and Sir Thomas Mallory’s Le Morte D’Artur have left a burning trail in their wakes.

Did you know that Beowulf comprises ten percent of our existing texts regarding Old English/Anglo-Saxon Literature? And who is it written by? ANONYMOUS. Huh? Huh?

This is where I ran into trouble on my playwright paper for my other literature class. I had absolutely no interest in what the people did or who they were–I’m more interested in the words they wrote–the words they crafted out of thin air to create a profound, unnerving, and ultimately poignant, meaning.

Oh. And this is the part where I shake my fist at grammar. Shakes fist.

I’ve noticed over the last year or so that I have slowly been losing my capacity to remember spelling or use the right form of a word. I’ll use “rolls” instead of “roles” even though I know the distinct meaning of both words. I’ll use “know” instead of “no” and vice versa. Is this a problem? Yes. But I guess it isn’t concerning me as much as it could be. Why, do you ask?

Because the times that I used those homophones incorrectly–I was able to effectively communicate a thought that had been cooking in the brain for quite some time. I’m finding that I’m more concerned with the general idea then what the structure of the words illustrating the idea look like. I’m more concerned with getting it all out on to the paper before I lose it all. My fingertips need to work faster to catch up with my synapses. Some things must be sacrificed in the process. In this case: spelling and grammar.

I’m definitely working on it though. No use giving something up that I’ve been perfectly able to do in the past.

Oh yeah. And for those of you wondering. I did spend time on wikipedia looking up vodka. More specifically Russian Vodka. WHAT A BUNCH OF POTATO MONGERS. You’ve got to love a people who can drink themselves under the table through the use of potatoes. Shakes fist at Russia for being so…well…Russian. (Insert In Soviet Russia joke here).

So. Studying for that final. Eh.

SOONER OR VADER: “GUNGAN CONTROL” (Column IV)

SOONER OR VADER: “GUNGAN CONTROL” by MO HENKELMAN

Think of the most annoying character that you could NEVER possibly relate to.  It’s a he (we think?); it has long ears; is rather orange; and has a ridiculous accent. No, he’s not your ginger neighbor. He is, in fact, a Gungan.

What does a highly weaponized piece of equipment have to do with gingers? Absolutely nothing. But this isn’t really about gingers.  Or weapons. This is about Gungans.

That’s right. Gungans. Highly aquatic amphibians (duh) that are surprisingly intelligent enough to deal with an intricate eco system while living in the waters of Naboo.  But as Qui Gon Jinn is quick to point out to Jar Jar Binks, “the ability to speak does not make you intelligent.”

First of all, and this just needs to be thrown out there–“Jar Jar Binks”–I mean, really? George Lucas–you couldn’t delve a little deeper to create a character with some depth? Who do you think you are? The director of some huge enterprise and hit so big that you will never have to do a movie again because of the franchise you created?! Okay, Lucas, I’ll give you this one. As long as you promise to re-edit some action sequences where the stormtroopers actually successfully hit a target.

On a scale of one to padawan braids, Jar Jar Binks would be a definite negative four.  I could rail on him for at least a couple more pages, but as the universe has already accepted his inadequacy as a character as general knowledge and fact, I will cease to expound and “get on with it” as I can hear John Cleese screaming in my right ear.

Nevertheless, our fellow Gungan Jar Jar Binks serves to illustrate one very important point: that the ability to speak does not make one intelligent. How about working on the ability to think? Maybe a few of us should stop exercising our freedom of speech and instead focus on our freedom of thought.

Oh. And on a side note: when Obi Wan Kenobi says, “why do I get the feeling we’ve just picked up another pathetic life form?” you should definitely listen to him. Or end up creating a Sith lord.

Bloody Good.

I’ve been thinking that I should probably have a compiled list of my favorite actors somewhere. So this might as well be it. (Also–apologies for the very small number of posts recently. I’ve been crazy busy with the Musical [Into the Woods]). And here’s the list (the male list–I might get to a female list someday.) But let’s face it. I’d rather look at men than women. Okay. Top 20.

1. Lliam Neeson

2. Gerard Butler

3. Ralph Fiennes

4. Clive Owen

5. Robert Downey Jr

6. Viggo Mortensen

7. Jude Law

8. Johnny Depp

9. Liev Schrieber

10. Christian Bale

11. Michael Caine

12. Hugh Jackman

13. Andy Serkis

14. David Tennant

15. Ian McKellan

16. Dominic Monaghan

17. Billy Boyd

18. Brendan Gleeson

19. Cary Elwes

20. James Roday

And there you have it folks.

Five Iron Frenzy plus MXPX plus Joy Electric equals Nostalgia.

So, the other day, I had this urge to look up Joy Electric’s “Monosynth” on youtube. Just to check if it still existed somewhere in the world. Or at least the known world, which unfortunately equates to youtube. Not that I don’t appreciate youtube. If youtube didn’t exist I would never have discovered Wheezy Waiter or Julian Smith.

Monosynth. Joy Electric. For sure.

I type it in. “Monosynth by Joy Electric”. And within seconds, for my viewing pleasure, Joy Electric is singing in his really weird music video. And then I decided to hit up all of the old Tooth and Nail Records favorites like Five Iron Frenzy and MXPX. It was great.

Also. I’ve decided that this blog is going to be about silly, awkward, humorous things that happen in my life. Which is how this started, but as of late, it has kind of become my venting post for my frustrations with life. (Mostly NCU and its newspaper.)

So, on to bigger and brighter things. If you want to laugh today, look up “Julian Smith Malk” and “Julian Smith Hot Koolaid” on youtube. And if you want to smile super huge because of ridiculous Christian music videos of the nineties, look up “monosynth Joy Electric”. You will not regret it. Or you will. But at least it will only be approximately 10 minutes of your life wasted. But it sure hasn’t wasted my time yet.

Julian Smith. Seriously, this guy never fails to make me laugh.

More Rules For Existence.

6) Start a fire. With your teeth. Or matches. Whichever you prefer.

6b) If you decide to go with the teeth idea, please be aware that your dental insurance may be affected by above exercise.

23) Attempt to blow up parliament with said fire.

23b) Remember remember the fifth of November.

23c) Buy a Guy Fawkes mask.

1) Try flying. At least once. Shoot for maybe a five foot drop. For the risky and those who don’t care about whether they kiss pavement or not, I’d suggest the Empire State Building. Disclaimer: I take no responsibility for your death, if it should occur, so don’t tell your families about this blog.

46) Develop an addiction and/or obsession. For example, I am obsessed with my addiction of buying dvds. And boots. Hence, the large collection of dvds that contains lots of people wearing boots.

46b) The day will come when you have to decide between a pair of really spiffy boots and Robin Hood with Russel Crowe. Go for the boots.

46c) You can purchase Robin Hood some other day. Or ask for it for Christmas.

80) Do not name your female feline “Lenny”. Apparently gender confusion is just as prevalent in the cat family as in the nuclear family.

23450987) Subscribe to some garbage magazine at least once in your life. Mine is Entertainment. So worth it.

53) Make it a point to relate to mythical characters. Or at least Frodo.

54) If you don’t know who Frodo is then you should watch The Lord of the Rings directed by Peter Jackson.

54b) Which is also composed by Howard Shore. Buy the soundtracks to these movies. You will not regret this purchase. (Yes there are three films in The Lord of the Rings.)

54c) If you managed to miss the pop cultural phenomenon that was The Lord of the Rings at the dawn of the New Millennium then start chasing that train. It left the station nine years ago.

5) Forget about social constraints.

But You’re Part of This World!

“You are in the world but not of the world.”

I feel like so many christians misconstrue this statement. And I’m one of them. But then it hit me straight in the face as I was lying in bed. How many of you have seen The Two Towers? There is an extremely poignant scene that takes place between the Ents and the Hobbits, Merry and Pippin.

The Ents hold an Entmoot, or meeting, to decide what to do about the forces of both Isenguard (Saruman) and Mordor (Sauron). They spend not only hours, but countless days and weeks deciding what to do about it. They argue and argue and waver and waver and finally reach a conclusion: that they will do nothing. That they will compleletely separate themselves from the present situation. Exactly what Christians do. We think that by avoiding R-rated films, violence, cussing, and all other “heretical ideals” that we are protected from them. This is ignorance. Just because you pretend something doesn’t exist doesn’t mean that it won’t affect the world.

When Merry hears the Ents verdict to ignore the battles ravaging and raging throughout Middle-earth he does the most unlikely thing a hobbit would do. This small breed stands up to a huge Ent–a keeper of the forest and keeper of lore. He exclaims emphatically: “BUT YOU’RE PART OF THIS WORLD!”

TREEBEARD: The Ents cannot hold back this war. We must weather such things as we have always done.

MERRY: How can that be your decision?

TREEBEARD: This is not our war.

MERRY: But your part of this world! Aren’t you? You must help. Please. You must do something.

TREEBEARD: You are young and brave, master Merry. But your part in this tale is over. Go back to your home.

PIPPIN: Maybe Treebeard’s right. We don’t belong here, Merry. It’s too big for us. What can we do in the end? We’ve got the Shire. Maybe we should go home.

MERRY: The fires of Isengard will spread. And the woods of Tuckborough and Buckland will burn. And… and all that was once green and good in this world will be gone. There won’t be a Shire, Pippin.

Whether we pretend that violence, abuse, war, death, and pain doesn’t happen or we make ourselves aware of it–these things will still happen. SO instead of distancing ourselves from everything that makes the church what it should be–reaching out to the broken, understanding them–instead of being what the Church as an organization is now–a condemning, hush hush society run by tax collectors–we should step up. And stop pretending that in our perfect little Christian bubble no harm will come to us. More harm will come to us by extracting ourselves. But even worse–more harm will come to the world we should be reaching out to from our own ineptitude and ignorance.

The truth hurts.

Nuns And Guns Are Vewy Vewy Bad.

So. I did a review on The Town for newspaper. As you already know. First, I’d like to cite the fact that all though North Central prohibits on-campus viewing of R-rated movies, they do not prohibit off-campus viewings of R-rated movies. So, basically, what we’ve got here–is a hypocrite (NCU) buying its own con.

My rejection letter:

“Mo-

I asked you to let me know ASAP when you decided what book/movie review you were doing before you wrote the story so I could approve it.  We can’t print your review because it’s a rated R movie review.  Our school does not support watching them, and it’s against school policy to watch them on campus. This particular movie itself has 141 F words in it.  It would be extremely inappropriate to print this article.
SO, with that said- is there any way you can write another review within the next 36 hours? If so, that would be great so we can put that in, and it won’t count against your word count for this issue and against your grade.  Let me know ASAP when you get this and the alternative review you decide to do.

— ———
Opinion Editor”

**************************

Maybe if I wrote about daffodils and fuzzy feelings they would be more happy. And even less aware of the world that they live in.

😀

“The Town” or rather “Nuns with Guns”.

I had to write a film review for the college newspaper. Note the fact that I’m writing for a private Christian school, and as such, censorship is one of their things. Also. Apparently R-rated movies are evil. Which kind of puts me in a crisis situation since some of my favorite movies are rated R. Such as “In Bruges”and “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang”. Finished with the disclaimer.

NUNS WITH GUNS by MO HENKELMAN

Yes, The Town is rated R. Before you all cross yourselves, avert your eyes, and organize a mass newspaper article burning–listen up. That’s right. With your ears. Or in this case–your eyes.

Arguably, it isn’t one of Ben Affleck’s best attempts at acting, but it comes pretty close to his best film as a director. Whatever slack Ben Affleck doesn’t bring to the table in acting is made up by Jeremy Renner’s near perfect portrayal of a trigger-happy, heist-friendly, psychotic anti-hero willing to kill for his friends. Renner’s portrayal causes a crisis of morality in the audience–should they support him or simply be sickened by this broken man? At times, the audience is championing this man and at others the audience is in awe of a brute that can be so merciless and violent.

Which defines Charlestown–the city with the most criminals, robbers, and murderers per capita. If you haven’t gathered yet, “the town” is “Charlestown”. The plot of the movie revolves around a group of professional bank robbers, and in particular, one man in this group–who falls for one of his former victims. Isn’t that always the case? It turns out that the woman they took hostage (and who Affleck’s character coincidentally fell in love with) may be the key to ending this band of thieves’ reign. Which Renner doesn’t really take a liking to. Most of the tension in this film is between Affleck and Renner (as Renner wants to eliminate all threats to their brotherhood). Also, we have Hamm (as the inspector attempting to pin the robbers) adding even more tension to the overall film as he begins to tighten the noose, so to speak, as he closes in on the “brothers”. The central themes of this film are revenge, love, and loyalty. How far will one man go to redeem himself? Far enough. On a scale of one to crazy bank heists, I’d give this an eight.

**********

Also. I’ve had to re-write my PG article four times. Never again will I do a lifestyle piece. Apparently I have way too much opinion. And you’re not supposed to use adjectives in a lifestyle piece. My editor can give up on life now.

I Hate Poetry. But I’d Read Robert Southwell Any Day.

The Burning Babe

As I in hoary winter’s night stood shivering in the snow,

Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow;

And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,

A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear;

Who, scorched with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed

As though his floods should quench his flames which with his tears were fred.

“Alas,” quoth he, “but newly born in fiery heats I fry,

Yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but I!

My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns,

Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns;

The fuel justice layeth on, and mercy blows the coals,

The metal in this furnace wrought are men’s defiled souls,

For which, as now on fire I am to work them to their good,

So will I melt into a bath to wash them in my blood.”

With this he vanished out of sight and swiftly shrunk away,

And straight I called unto mind that it was Christmas day.

SOONER OR VADER. My first go at Nerd Pop Culture Column.

SOONER OR VADER (Column One) by Mo Henkelman

If you were freezing to death on a really cold planet then I wouldn’t hesitate to shove you inside a Tauntaun. What? That’s right. I would totally cut that thing open and stick you inside there with all of its unquestionable innards. Because friends don’t let friends freeze to death especially if there is a perfectly healthy Tauntaun standing right next to them.

Animal rights activist, you say? I say, in this galaxy, a long time ago, that same animal rights activist would have appreciated my ingenuity in using all available materials. Besides. If they were freezing to death, I’m pretty sure that they would be the first ones in line to cut open their beloved Tauntauns.

Confused yet? It’s all right. For the ten percent of nerds who just got really excited about the mention of a Tauntaun, the other ninety percent just drooled on their lapels. For those of you who are currently wiping said spit off of your shirt, I’m here to give you a break. Here’s the super condensed version:

Luke Skywalker is a Jedi (a bad-ass that peacefully saves the galaxy through diplomatic reasoning and the use of lightsabers–we know–it’s ironic.) Han Solo is a hunk. They are in a galaxy far, far away and a long time ago; they also happen to be on a planet that is frozen–Hoth. Luke goes off on a scout mission (because they are hiding their Rebel base from the Empire–led by a really bad politician/dictator known simply as “Darth Sidious”) and he gets stuck in an ice storm. And attacked by a Yeti. I know. I know. Sasquatch in space. It happens. Han Solo manages to find him after much searching; however, Luke is not in very good condition at this point. He is nearly frozen to death. So Han does what any good friend would do. He cuts open his Tauntaun (which is a goat looking creature that stands on its hind legs and is used for transportation on Hoth) and shoves Luke into all of the Tauntaun’s lovely innards. Nice blue intestines. Anyways, this basically saves Luke’s life (although he does seem to have a pretty bad case of hypothermia).

And here we come to the point of the story. Sometimes, even if your friend thinks that you don’t have his back, you need to be the one to cut open that animal and shove him inside when he is in over his head. To put it straight–you need be willing to do something that the rest of the human race would view as ludicrous and utterly ridiculous in order to protect your friend. Don’t cave when they come before you with an awkward question or an issue. Be ready to deal with the mess that comes with being a friend. Be prepared to get down and dirty and leave with your hands a bit messy. As Christians, we seem to have an immediate conflict list that we stick to when presented with heavy issues.

1. Condemn the person. Completely forget about the whole “speck in his eye, log in mine” verse.

2. Pray for the person. (Usually thirty seconds will suffice).

3. Pretend the person never brought it up.

Yes, prayer is good. But maybe you should stop worrying about how messy it is to keep things separate. Be willing to sit down and battle with them. Be ready to walk away with some dirt on your knees. Or Tauntaun unmentionables on your hands. Life happens. People freeze. Will you be the one to sacrifice your Tauntaun for the good of that person?

It’s All Fun And Games At PG Until You’re Transported Into A Galaxy Far Far Away (A Long Time Ago)

PG was really good tonight. The backgrounds of the slides were very inspirational. They made it through the whole thing without a hitch until approximately 11:57pm at which point the song by Phil Wickham “Always Forever” began. Don’t get me wrong. I love the song. But the background is what killed me. I had to leave because I was laughing out loud. You heard it here first.

Okay. So picture a desert vista. It is twilight. Not the book series. You see a moon. And a sun. Except that the picture isn’t the clearest so it looks like there are two suns. Now think of another place. A planet. That is covered in sand. With two suns. Imagine a young man staring at the two setting suns while majestic music plays in the background. Still not sure where you are?

You, my friend, are in Tattooine.

"You are the hand that catches my fall/ You are the friend that answers my call/ You are the grace that covers my sin/ You're everything--the beginning and end." Just doesn't work so well when you're too busy thinking about the fact that Luke Skywalker is the most whiny Jedi in the galaxy.

And you find yourself thinking “when did I find transport to even get to Tattooine?” Just remember. You heard it here first, folks.

INTENSE CAPTURE THE FLAG:MINNEAPOLIS:THE SCULPTURE GARDENS

Because when I'm not blogging, reading, doing crazy stuff with my friends, watching movies, and using the internet, I am definitely one of those kinds of people who poke out from behind trees.

So last night, for lifecore, we met at 10pm to play an intense game of capture the flag in the Sculpture Gardens. For those of you who don’t know, I attend school up in Minneapolis, MN, where there also happens to be a thriving art world. Lucky me. I know. You are insanely jealous. But anyways. The Sculpture Gardens simply by themselves are brilliantly awesome. Granted, the first time I went was in the middle of the winter and climbing on said sculptures was a bit difficult with the icy surface. I know, I know–defacement of art?! Not really. I’d say more an acute interest and appreciation in art. Anyways. Last night. When it was dark (obviously) I had a hay day climbing all over the sculptures as a lookout. And I popped out from trees quite a lot. But mostly I just enjoyed climbing on the sculptures and using my “spidey sense” to locate people. It’s amazing how much more your sense of hearing spikes when you have limited eyesight. The majority of the people I caught last night stemmed from me hearing a twig crack, or a shuffle, or someone breathing. So yah. Maybe I will move to England and become a modern day Robin Hood. Who knows. But first I’d have to do something to piss off the Sheriff of Sherwood. Probably not too hard.

Apparently You’re Not Supposed to Have Voice When Writing for “The Northerner”.

Even though that is the thing that is stressed most in writing. Voice. I’m sorry–but who the hell wants to read something that is just information? Certainly not me. I had to write a piece on PG. So, logically, I threw in some voice. What makes Mo “Mo”. And every bit of that was deleted. I wouldn’t even want to read my own article now–how can I expect the general populace of NCU to pick it up?

BEFORE THE VOICE WAS REMOVED:

“RATED PG FOR ADVISORY REASONS” by Mo Henkelman

“It’s worth it. God doesn’t disappoint.” This was Stephen Krist’s closing statement in his interview regarding Praise Gathering and quite frankly, it couldn’t be a more succinct way to describe this meeting. Here are the logistics: Praise Gathering meets every Wednesday at approximately ten pm and is a student led worship service that can sometimes extend past 12:30 am. For the purpose of not losing my fingers while typing this, Praise Gathering from now on shall be referred to as PG. It’s okay. Everyone refers to it as PG anyways–now you can feel like you’re on the inside. Drum roll please–the reason you should skip out on that Applebee’s appetizer (you’ve been thinking about all week) next Wednesday to spend time rocking out for God comes straight from the mouth of John Horstmann (one of the worship directors in charge of PG):” While I think it is important for NCU students to hang out with kids after their youth groups, it’s also so important for us as leaders to spend time in God’s presence without having the label of “leader,” “pastor,” or to only have 20 minutes to worship in a Chapel. Not that any of those things are bad, but there is definitely a necessity, at least for me, to spend extended time in God’s presence in a corporate setting where the entire student population can love on each other.” From personal experience, PG has always been another way to really dig in with God–I’d have to agree with Horstmann–I need more than a twenty minute span of time to really process and let it all go. It’s an extended opportunity for the student to really let it all loose and not have to be concerned about what time it is or who is going to speak next. (Well, besides the every once and a while notion of  “Man, I procrastinated for my New Testament History and Literature exam that happens tomorrow morning, I need to duck out”. I find that if you duck out early, you’re more likely to miss something even bigger than your exam. Besides. You shouldn’t be procrastinating. This coming from the writer typing this the night before it is due even though I had ample time earlier in the week.) The really awesome thing about PG this year is the fact that its theme is “New Creation”. Already this year, we’re starting to see an influx of more of the arts, as painting is taking place on the stage during worship. It’s not just about the music anymore, folks. As Horstmann says, “At PG this year we’re going to try and create a unique experience every week while maintaining a healthy worship climate. We plan on using unique themes for most of the weeks whether it is paintings, new lights, and even more–we’ve got quite a surprise planned for PG United coming here soon.” If nothing else–show up for the surprise. As the band The Black Keys so aptly put it, “Sick for days, so many ways/I’m aching now, aching now/ It’s times like these, I need relief/ Please show me how, oh, show me how/ To get right”. I guarantee it. One visit to PG and you’ll be aching for more.

AFTER ALL TRACE OF VOICE WAS REMOVED:

“RATED PG FOR ADVISORY REASONS” by Mo Henkelman

“It’s worth it. God doesn’t disappoint.”

This was Stephen Krist’s closing statement in his interview regarding Praise Gathering and frankly, it couldn’t be a more succinct description.

Here are the logistics: Praise Gathering (PG) meets every Wednesday at approximately ten pm  and is a student led worship service that sometimes extends past 12:30 am.

Drum roll please–the reason you should skip out on that Applebee’s appetizer (you’ve been thinking about all week) next Wednesday to spend time rocking out for God came straight from John Horstmann,  (one of the worship directors in charge of PG):

“While I think it is important for NCU students to hang out with kids after their youth groups, it’s also so important for us as leaders to spend time in God’s presence without having the label of ‘leader,’ ‘pastor,’ or to only have 20 minutes to worship in chapel. Not that any of those things are bad, but there is definitely a necessity, at least for me, to spend extended time in God’s presence in a corporate setting where the entire student population can love on each other.”

From personal experience, PG has always been another way to really dig in with God. I’d have to agree with Horstmann; I need more than a twenty minute span of time to really process and let it all go.  It’s an extended opportunity for the student to really let it all loose and not have to be concerned about what time it is or who is going to speak next.

The really awesome thing about PG this year is its theme, “New Creation”. Already this year, we’re starting to see an influx of more of the arts, as painting is taking place on the stage during worship. It’s not just about the music anymore, folks. As Horstmann says, “At PG this year we’re going to try and create a unique experience every week while maintaining a healthy worship climate. We plan on using unique themes for most of the weeks whether it is paintings, new lights, and even more. We’ve got quite a surprise planned for PG United coming here soon.” If nothing else, show up for the surprise.

********

BLECH. Luckily, I’ll be writing a column now. Entitled “Sooner or Vader”. Where I shall take large liberties with nerd pop culture and HAVE A VOICE.

Yes. Take A Double-take. It’s Okay. Nazi Prison Camp Does Happen Here.

Those who shall remain unnamed but whose names coincidentally rhyme with Boriah and Galeb. Shout out to G-Dawg. She created this.

This is what happens when you go to grandma’s house. Or the Henkelman house for that matter. Henkelmans are a different breed–separate from society–and for a good reason unexposed to the masses. Because if we were exposed to the masses all hell would possibly break loose. As kids, we were not kept from being creative. Do what you do.

We don’t play hide-and-seek. We play Nazi Prison Camp.

Okay. So it did originate with the Thoofts and the Henkelmans. But still.

We play Nazi Prison Camp. Rules of Play:

1) You pick one person to be the German. (In a normal home life that would be the person “it” during a game of hide and seek.)

2) You pick one person to hide the Jews and have papers present when said German shows up at your door. (In a normal setting this would be the one who tries to throw off the person who is “it”.)

3) Everyone else who is left are the Jews, respectively. (This is the part where you hide. And hope to God that you aren’t discovered by the German.)

3b) If you (a Jew) are discovered by the German then you are sent to the nasty basement (concentration camp) until all of the other Jews are found.

3c) If you (the person hiding the Jew) fail to provide papers for yourself you will also be sent to the nasty basement until all of the other Jews are found.

4) The basement is nasty. You don’t want to go there.

5) The German must stomp around in heavy boots saying things like “Yavul” and “where are your papers?!” Also, it helps if they are in some way armed. Brooms work sufficiently as a shotgun.

5b) Also, the German should be someone who can be menacing but who won’t make you want to wet yourself. UNLESS YOU’RE REALLY IN THE MOOD FOR HISTORICAL RE-ENACTMENT.

6) The game ends when the German has located all Jews. Start Over. (After killing the Jews of course.)

Okay. Not so politically correct. Not really at all. But you know what–I’d rather play Nazi Prison Camp than sit around staring blankly at parents who ignore your presence and siblings who hate each other. Also, this is a good game for those who are competitive. Whenever our family sits down to play a board game someone inevitably ends up leaving the table, game, or crying, ultimately prematurely ending the game. Sometimes you have to be creative to keep everybody engaged.

Actually. I don’t know why I’m defending my family. We don’t really need a defense. We’re just that awesome.

Because it’s more than slightly awkward to have “Han about to kiss Leia” as the header of your blog. If all else fails, go with Jack Sparrow. Nobody ever has anything to say about him. No really. They don’t.

So. If you haven’t noticed yet, those of you who somewhat follow these random musings, I can’t really stick with one “blog theme background thingy”. I went for the grunge look, which worked quite well, but then I didn’t have a header. So I switched to a nice dark theme (a slight variation on the grunge theme but with a header). And then I figured out “customizable header” or in other words “complete license to arbitrarily insert pictures that may or may not accurately represent your blog and will infringe on all copyright rights”. (Does copyright rights seem redundant to you?)

Anyways, after going through dozens of images (including but not limited to Doctor Who, Lost, Me–which led to some concerns about my identity but then I thought “well I guess my identity is on facebook for the whole world to see so I don’t know what the big deal is anyways”–to pictures of knights, more Doctor Who, and then Star Wars. Of course, the only Star Wars picture I had on my mac that was compatible with the “header upload thingy” was a picture of Han going in to kiss Leia. And I felt like maybe that would be a bit awkward. I mean, everytime someone wants to see a post, they gotta look at this big ol’ picture of Han and Leia getting it on, you know what I mean? I feel like that would be a bit strange, if not awkward, and possibly just bogus.

You so would have felt awkward about this. I know I did.

So I settled on Jack Sparrow. Because no one ever has anything bad to say about Jack, excluding Barbosa of course. And it kind of syncs up with the Jack Sparrow quote I have on the main blog page anyway: “Well that’s even more than less than unhelpful”. Although, admittedly, the Sparrow picture that I selected does seem like it would support his more common phrase of “why is the rum always gone?”

So. Those are my thoughts. Also, intramural football is a lot of fun. Who knew one could get such joy from getting muddy and down and dirty early in the morning? Oh, that’s right. Me. I just forgot about how fun soccer was for the six years I played. Football was fun. Usually I rip on football. Because it just isn’t as tough as Rugby. Which is true. But technically, since we weren’t playing with pads, I would kind of compare intramural football to rugby. Oh, and I got to run into people without getting in trouble. Although, now I am really sore. Like super crazy sore. But so worth it. Man, I love mud and battle wounds!

And now I am going to try to sleep. Until some other random thought passes through my head and I have to get back on the internet to check wikipedia. That’s the problem about asking questions. You have to look for the answers. Which gets pretty annoying when you’re trying to fall asleep but all that you can think about is what the main ingredient for borscht is. (It’s beets if you didn’t know. Now I know.) Also, borscht is a very fun word to spell, type, and say. Just do it.

My Future. Perhaps.

FH candidates

So. This is pretty much ridiculous. But a lot of fun.

I’ve Got A Lovely Bunch Of Coconuts.

There they are a standing in a row. Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head……and this is where any further knowledge of the song ends. Do you want to know why? Because The Lion King was my favorite movie when I was younger than the young that I am currently. I can’t really say when I was a kid because in the grand scheme of things I’m really just what one would call a toddler. Irrelevant information points. Disney points.

There are two possibilities: either he has invisible coconuts, or he's totally lying about the presence of a bunch of coconuts.

Anyways. So The Lion King was my favorite movie. In a scene, Zazu sings the above limerick “I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts”. Of course, he doesn’t finish said limerick as Scar is interrupted by his hyenas (who p.s. represent the characters of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern because The Lion King is really just an animated version of Hamlet set in the Serengetti with a happy ending [more points for irrelevant information, although arguably it is slightly relevant as the blog is called “rozencrantzandguildenstern”, so scratch the points for the second instance of irrelevant information, although now that I’ve scratched the points for the second irrelevant information total I can now add points of irrelevant information since it was completely irrelevant for me to even point out that said second irrelevant points were deemed null. What a run on]) and Zazu is unable to finish his song. And so as a kid, which I still am (redunancy: see above), I just dismissed the song as having no further lyrics. BUT I WAS WRONG. There are more lyrics.

I just didn’t think to ask out about it. Or check for that matter. And then, years later, I see a link for the song. I click on said song. And hear all of the lyrics. That’s right. All of them. Thank-you Youtube. And then I have one of those epiphany things, and aren’t those inconvenient, especially when you don’t feel like having one? It’s like I wake up and I’m thinking, “Damn, this is a horrible day for an epiphany–I just wanted to eat crispy rice cereal for breakfast and continue on my merry way for the rest of day and crawl back into bed later. But no, I just had to have an epiphany today!” And so I had an epiphany. Epiphanies sometimes ruin things. Like favorite childhood films. (Even though I’m still not an adult….irrelevant points 4 and redundancy points 3). Here’s the main gist of said epiphany:

“If you take things at face value, if you stop questioning things, how will you know what is true? Trust is important. But arguably, sometimes questioning is even more important. Question the big things in your life. I’m sure you’ll find an answer. Don’t become a 1984-ite as I like to call them. Think. Question. Make connections. Test the world. Because if you do–you’ll find that gravity isn’t even real.”

See. I even found a picture of Isaac Newton proving that gravity isn't real.

Excuse Me While I Shank Thee With Thine Spork.

Random thoughts. But who am I kidding? These are always random thoughts….

It’s cold and overcast. Perfect. No really. Perfectamundo. It should be like this all the time. Even got to break out my thermal long-sleeve shirt. Shakes fist at Minnesota for being ridiculously awesome.

Had a hamburger for lunch. From the deli. It was tasty, surprisingly. Had some cheetos. I used to hate cheetos. All that orange cheesy powdery stuff was not really the direction I was heading in. And then, one fateful day in January, I went out on a limb at the deli and got some. They were delicious. I’m really only saying this because today I went out on a limb and got a hamburger. It was nice and hot. Was gonna get soup. But no wild rice. Just minestrone. Gross. Or chicken noodle. Eh. So I went for the cheetos. And a hamburger.

Sporks not only remind me of Ryan Canaday and Jairus Houdek, but also remind me of the comic strip “Get Fuzzy”. I love Bucky. So great. And poor Satchel. Not that I really feel bad for him. Also, Cat used to have a huge spork at the Calf-fiend Cafe. Which is also an awesome place. Want good food and a great atmosphere? Go there. They are also selling it, so you should probably buy it right now. No. Now. There. Now I’ve gotten my spiel for them in. Buy it. NOW.

Where the Red Fern Grows. Should not be required for a fifth grader. What fifth grader, in their right mind, wants to read about a boy and his best friend–his dog–who dies tragically at the end. It’s bad enough that they made us read that “Secret of Nimh” book, which also happens to be a cartoon.

Speaking of creepy children’s cartoons, if you ever want to rake your eyes out after watching one, and be afraid of bunnies, watch the animated version of “Watership Down”. You will cry. You will scream. You will see lots of cartoon blood, rabies foaming, and nazi bunnies. Turns out that a book structured as social commentary doesn’t work so well for the kiddies.

If you can believe it, there is an even creepier foaming, bloody, evil rabbit picture that wouldn't upload. Just google image "watership down". You'll have nightmares. Or at least your kids will. After seeing it. Yeah for PG-13 cartoons.

Reading Beowulf again, this time the version translated by Seamus “something-or-other” (pretty sure his last name starts with an H but oh well. He’s a famous Irish poet. Get over it.) Just as good as the first time, if not better, man I love the epic poem format. The Odyssey. The Iliad. Beowulf. And the best part, is my professor had a recording of what the first sixteen lines would have sounded like in the now archaic language. It was awesome.

Eh. Don’t want to write. Kinda miffed. Because I have to work at dominos tonight. So. Yah. There you go.

And now I will insert a random photo. Because that is what I do.

Something from Lost. Because I miss Lost. And this is funny. 4 8 15 16 23 42 EXECUTE.

Sometimes I Get In Debates About Mosques. And Masks.

I don’t even want to talk about it. But we’ll just say that there were about sixteen against one. And I was the one. And let’s just say that said mosque didn’t worry me. And it apparently worried them. And now that class is dropped. And I have an awesome History of the English Language class instead. Etymology here I come.

My face when getting attacked by Ring-wraiths and Uruk-hai in newspaper. Also known as my fellow private school students. Shakes fist at private school students. Notes irony.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Playing Questions.The Origin of a Blog.

Guildenstern: Whose serve?
Rosencrantz: Err…
Guildenstern: Hesitation! Love… one.
Rosencrantz: Whose go?
Guildenstern: Why?
Rosencrantz: Why not?
Guildenstern: What for?
Rosencrantz: Foul! No synonyms! One… all.
Guildenstern: What in God’s name is going on?
Rosencrantz: Foul! No rhetoric! Two… one.
Guildenstern: What does it all add up to?
Rosencrantz: Can’t you guess?
Guildenstern: Were you addressing me?
Rosencrantz: Is there anyone else?
Guildenstern: Who?
Rosencrantz: How would I know?
Guildenstern: Why do you ask?
Rosencrantz: Are you serious?
Guildenstern: Was that rhetoric?
Rosencrantz: No.
Guildenstern: Statement! Two all. Game point.

Rosencrantz: What’s the matter with you today?

Guildenstern: When?
Rosencrantz: What?
Guildenstern: Are you deaf?
Rosencrantz: Am I dead?
Guildenstern: Yes or no?
Rosencrantz: Is there a choice?
Guildenstern: Is there a God?
Rosencrantz: Foul! No non sequiturs! Three… two, one game all.
Guildenstern: What’s your name?
Rosencrantz: What’s yours?
Guildenstern: You first.
Rosencrantz: Statement! One… love.
Guildenstern: What’s your name when you’re at home?
Rosencrantz: What’s yours?
Guildenstern: When I’m at home?
Rosencrantz: Is it different at home?
Guildenstern: What home?
Rosencrantz: Haven’t you got one?
Guildenstern: Why do you ask?
Rosencrantz: What are you driving at?
Guildenstern: What’s your name?
Rosencrantz: Repetition! Two… love. Match point.
Guildenstern: Who do you think you are?
Rosencrantz: Rhetoric! Game and match!

Good ol' Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

What Facebook Has Created. This Monster.

What follows here is a smattering of my life according to me over the last two years. As recorded by said social-networking site. Maybe this is the reason people should keep journals. Keep in mind that content amount has been edited for posterities sake:

Mo Henkelman I had a dream last night that I was on a level of Death Mario-Kart set in Canada. Result: blew up Canada and killed Dr.Phil. Yes. That did actually happen.

Mo Henkelman just put expired throat spray in my mouth..8 yrs expired…expired in ’01…not healthy…hehee..my throat is swelling up….hehehehe.

Mo Henkelman this is re-TARDIS.

Mo Henkelman Because only I would say “bloody hell” as I am inducted into the National Honor Society.

Mo Henkelman choreography:just another thing to add to my unending list of things that I strongly dislike.

Mo Henkelman and always the predictable ultimatum at the end of the email.

Mo Henkelman Just filled out an application for the Dharma Initiative and fully expects a returning interview.

Mo Henkelman has an uncontrollable urge to make loud noises whenever a running vacuum is in the vicinity.

Mo Henkelman So, Wesley, from The Princess Bride, is pretty much the only man in all of history to be able to pull off just a mustache without looking creepy.

Mo Henkelman is currently running to Dagobah. She is unable to message you or respond until she has learned proper jedi training under Master Yoda. Please leave your name, species, and republic/seperatist views at the sound of the lightsaber. Bzzzzsszzzzzzzt.

Mo Henkelman Bloody Hell. Piss. And Donuts.

Mo Henkelman You are about to get a demerit, my friend.

Mo Henkelman “Now unlike some Star Wars purists, I consider the prequels to be Star Wars movies.

Mo Henkelman if I had a horse I would name it Caligula. And refer to it as a consul of Rome.

Mo Henkelman and yet again this horrible event repeats itself inevitably…my jeans just died. They ripped. An Ode To My Skinny Black Jeans That Were Once Black, but Through Subsequent Use Have Turned Grey, and Are Now Ripped With Various Holes–I Shall Remember You Always. That would be a great song. But I have not the heart to compose a song, as my favorite jeans have just…(sob)…died. (Insert dramatic head dropping here.)

Mo Henkelman was just thinking that a guy has to be seriously bad-ass in order to pull off wearing jewelry. Aragorn was so bad-ass.

Mo Henkelman “Why do I get the feeling we’ve just picked up another useless life form?” Kenobi asked on behalf of mankind. He was so right that I wanted to hug him, to throw myself against his haughty crossed arms with a sobbing “You tried, young, hot Obi Wan-Kenobi. You tried.

Mo Henkelman I do actually have conversations in my mind acknowledging any mind-readers in the room. Usually goes along the lines of “Oof. Should have thought more before I thought that. Not that I really could have thought about not thinking it without thinking it…well. Hello, whoever is reading my mind in this room right now. Let me apologize upfront. (insert that’s what she said joke here) Oof. Should have thought more ab..”

Mo Henkelman So. From about fifth grade to seventh grade I looked like the guy from The Breakfast Club. Just saying.

Mo Henkelman making noise is in fact my specialty.

Mo Henkelman is it bad that when I was little I thought that Plato was “Play-doh”? Because I specifically remember watching a National Geographic special concerning “Atlantis” when I was younger. And all I could think was ‘that’s cool that his name is play-doh. I wish my name was play-doh.’

Mo Henkelman because only in the United Kingdom can you say a phrase with the attached word “love” at the end without sounding creepy.

Mo Henkelman this is the part where you let go of old friends. This is also the part when you begin to insert random sci-fi references into your conversations throughout the day. Wait. I already do that.

Mo Henkelman found time in her day to say that the rain “had abetted a bit”. So proud right now that that phrase actually came out of my mouth.

Mo Henkelman Depth perception: apparently it’s there for a reason.

Mo Henkelman sometimes I contemplate putting certain statuses up. And then I think what possible negative reactions might be. And then I laugh out loud (by myself) at the absurdity of the whole situation. And that reminds me of all of the times I share a private joke with myself. And then I laugh more. And then I feel silly for laughing over the fact that I laugh when I make private jokes with myself.

Mo Henkelman So. Earlier today I told Sophia Huang that Roflcopter means: Rolling On Floor Laughing Completely Overwhelmed Peeing and Turning Erroneously Red. It so does not mean that.

Mo Henkelman “Cause I don’t care too much for money–money can’t buy me love (can’t buy me love, can’t buy me love)” unless you’re a gigolo or a prostitute. But it probably isn’t love so…you know what…never mind. I think it is time to go to bed. Before I start making more horrendously ridiculous connections between obscure objects.

Mo Henkelman is heading into a slightly vampiric stage in her life, what with the sleeping during the day and working at night. I even sparkle in the sunlight, because I still haven’t swum yet this summer. Which is preposterous, seeing how I am biologically part fish.

Mo Henkelman Five things that you can always depend on Mo to do: 1. Sneeze LOUDLY. 2. Forget to zip her fly. 3. Laugh Uproariously. 4. Spill the coffee. 5. Erupt into an accent.

Mo Henkelman what is that gross taste in my mouth? Oh, that’s right, Sunny-D.

Mo Henkelman so the depth perception is a wee bit off. Note to self: count the stairs in your head so that you don’t accidentally miss one. Or two. And fall flat on your face. On the kitchen floor. You’ll thank me later.

Mo Henkelman I think my future children (if they magically appear like the Tooth Fairy) will have cross-cultural complexes from me speaking in different accents all of the time. I shall build an army worthy of MO-dor!

Mo Henkelman Do I like Michael Phelps as a person or simply as a fellow American who won lots of gold medals? This is the question I asked myself when deciding whether or not I liked him. Facebook is really kind of definitely maybe a little awkward on the inside.

Mo Henkelman on a scale of one to padawan braids I’d say it’s about a 7.

Mo Henkelman MPPHYS101: Course Description: What floats? Very small rocks and ducks. If only.

Mo Henkelman walked by the trash compactor at work tonight. Man does its reek ever permeate the room quickly. Got me to thinking about Star Wars. I wouldn’t want to smell an intergalactic space trash compactor. Or be stuck in one. Especially without R2-D2 as backup. Just saying.

Mo Henkelman Why do people smoke? To get a high from the nicotine right? If you were intelligent, you would skip the whole rotten teeth, ruined lungs, and inability to breath that comes from SMOKING. Start on the Nicotine gum. Bypass the smoking. Come on people, be smarter about your vices. If you’re going to do something stupid, at least do it with some thought. Nicotene gum equals smarter way to get high then smoking.

Mo Henkelman feels kind of bad for Ralph Fiennes. As I presume many midwesterners refer to him as “Ralph” rather than “Rafe”. Sorry man.

Mo Henkelman you’d think that I was a veteran of a foreign war, what with how much salt I use on my food. Pulls salt shaker out of handbag.

Mo Henkelman And this is the part where I get really excited about my platelets.

Mo Henkelman So. I may have started referring to the Bible as “ye olde histoire”. It just works for me.

Mo Henkelman needs to find a copy of Quest for Camelot real fast to fulfill her once every three months fix.

Mo Henkelman “LOST is like a Haiku. Haikus are easy. But sometimes it doesn’t make sense. Refrigerator.”

Oof.

Cary Grant does not approve.

And Now For Something Completely Different.

SWAG. Stuff We All Get. Or so Michael Scott says. This is something that has always stuck with me ever since watching that fateful convention episode when Michael Scott gets really up close and personal with the camera crew to say “SWAG.” Imagine my immediate surprise when days later I am viewing lots of old Monty Python sketches and one pops up completely about swag!

Right. Well I was going to continue this with a picture from that sketch, but instead found an even better picture of John Cleese from the episode “The Germans” from the short-lived but lovely show Fawlty Towers.

"Don't mention the war. I think I may have mentioned it once or twice, but I'm pretty sure I got away with it." Ahh, John Cleese. Hits the spot almost every time.

Well. That’s that then.

Nostalgia Breeds Discontent.

I can’t help it. Just feeling really nostalgic about Doctor Who. I mean, I get so excited about the old stuff, and I mean yeah, I’m excited for the new stuff, but it just doesn’t have that same pull that the older new series had. (Paradox?) I’m sure the Tardis is killing itself right now just thinking about it. I can’t help it! I love watching “big ears” Christopher Eccleston run around with (best companion ever Rose) Billie Piper and “hilariously charming Jack” John Barrowman. And I get even more excited when Tennant and Piper are madly dashing about. The easy chemistry that they had. Right then. Here’s where I admit it. I’m all for the Rose-Doctor relationship. Major shipper here.

Yes. I do cry every time I watch the episode "Doomsday". Get over it. Just look at them. So perfect.

And I don’t care if that isn’t how the old Doctor Who was. This is the new Doctor Who. And I’ve figured out that’s how I’ll handle this new series with the eleventh doctor and Amy Pond. It’s brilliant, don’t get me wrong, but it isn’t my Doctor Who. My Doctor Who doesn’t have ridiculous looking Daleks.

These things were made to be stuck up runny noses.

My Daleks could kick ass. And here we are. I’ll separate Doctor Who into three separate eras: The Original, My Doctor Who, and New Doctor Who. I’ll stay painfully attached to the “my doctor who” era, the revival of the original series. You can have your silly kid’s toy Daleks and bumbling bow-tie-wearing Time Lord.

Nostalgia. Breeds. Discontent. Or. Just. Makes. You. Really. Happy. About. Your. Doctor. Who.

PS. Current Companion Running:
1) Rose Tyler–>Rose Tyler rocks.
1.5) Jack Harkness
2) Amelia Pond
3) Donna Noble
400) Martha Jones–>Martha Jones sucks.

About me update. “Who the heck is this and why did they spell Rosencrantz wrong”. Feeling a bit empowered, yeah.

So. Everything we do boils down to the expectations of others, right? Correct. So what if we all just let ourselves loose? Let go of other’s approval. Forged ahead and became the people we wanted to be? That’s what I’m setting out to do. I’ll wear the things I want to wear because that’s who I am. I’ll listen to what I want to without looking over my shoulder to see who is watching. In fact, I’ll choose to not just ignore but forget this innate desire of looking over one’s shoulder searching for approval. It’s time to move onwards and upwards. Jump in. Join me. Or don’t. Because whether I approve of you joining or not doesn’t matter. And whether you approve or not doesn’t either. Be the person you were born to be. I think it’s about time I became me.

The author is in a very strange and late manner (or not so very strange manner) coming to the realization that if her thoughts were recorded it could perhaps inflict damage to the known world. These sarcastic and cynical tidbits might even start World War III. And so I say–bloody good. Let’s do what I do best. Try to take over the world. Well…not really. Just really good at snarky comments, reading, and watching film. So future careers include: bag lady, wise cracker in the corner (note the pun), or film critic. What it will probably boil down to: all of the above.

Oh yeah. Rosencrantz is spelled wrong because the domain name was already taken. Get over it. I already did. ROZENCRANTZ. Anyways, it’s much more exotic looking this way.

This is Robert Pattinson. With a cigarette. Well gathered.

Oh. And for those of you who don’t know. This is Mo. Signing off.

Yes. I am that person who texted you on your honeymoon. Bollocks.

Right. Well, I have now become that person. Although, technically, Amy and Dawn are also that person with me. So it’s not so lonely. Well, it all came about because my older brother, Keenan, got married to this amazing person, Michelle, on Sunday. And then they didn’t go on their honeymoon on Monday. In fact, I went out for supper with them on Monday night. And so I’m thinking, uh, when are you going on your honeymoon? They had said earlier in the week that they would be getting back next Monday, which isn’t a problem. But I’m thinking, why haven’t you left yet? So. Anyways. Tuesday rolls around. And I decide not to text them. Just in case. Who wants to be the person who texts someone on their honeymoon, right?

Well. All was going well. And then Wednesday rolled around. Bum bum bum. Cue incidental dramatic music. Headed off to Psycho Suzie’s with Dawn and Amy. Which was, by the way, one of the most brilliant experiences ever. So much fun! So much pizza and cheese curds! Mmmmmm. So we’ve come to the end of our feasting (and I’ve been carded and so we are escorted off the premises by 9:30). [Don’t worry mum, it’s a family establishment, people under 21 just can’t be there after 9. Although the waitress was nice and let us stay till we finished our food.]

We are in the car. Lost in downtown Minneapolis. And you know what? It doesn’t bother me a bit. Because it’s absolutely lovely being with these two people. (I love you Amy and Dawn!) So. We’re putting around for a bit. And then they ask me if Keenan and Michelle are on their honeymoon. And I give them the whole speel about how I don’t want to be the one who texts them on their honeymoon. And then Amy makes the comment that she should text them “are you having sex right now.” And then quickly follows with “I don’t have the guts to do that.” So, quicker before I can even think, thought processes are often belated with me, I whip out my cell phone and begin to construct a message, “Dawn and Amy want 2 know if ur having sex right now…or in other words r u guys on ur honeymoon?” And before I can stop myself, the send button has been pushed.

Yes. I am that person who texted you on your honeymoon. Bollocks.

Although, technically, it was all three of us. Dawn, Amy, and I. Well, mostly me. But at least their names were in the message.

The rest of the night went great. Amy and Dawn eventually found Miller Hall. I invited them up, showed them my HUGE room. My posters. My bedspread. Borrowed a couple of comics and the first season of Doctor Who to them. Sang them a song. Chatted a bit about life. Showed them the door. And sat back content. Played a little more on guitar.

At which point, Deanna (my fricken awesome roomate [we make sweet music together]) burst through the door after being at a concert with two other lovely ladies. We hung out, joked around, got some hot cocoa, which was more than less than unpleasant in our dorm with no air conditioning, but hey it is hot cocoa! Made them watch Doctor Who. Enjoyed Tennant’s Scottish accent in surround sound. Which by the way, only makes the werewolf more awesome and powerful. Got me to reminiscing about the Doctor and Rose. Again.

Hit the lights. Surfed the net. Woke up to a post on facebook about not having a recent dosage of Rozencrantz and Guildenstern. And now here it is.

When Put In the Bass Section In Choir Watch Out For Huge Stone Trolls. You Will Be Laying Siege To A Castle.

This is one my dreams. Be aware that this is usually how I always dream. They are very vivid, fanciful, and make no sense whatsoever. Are you sitting comfortably? Good. Let us begin:

It was choir. But it wasn’t at the same time. We had just done auditions. I ended up in the bass section with all of the guys. And some other little guy took my place in the girls section. We were singing a Lord of the Rings piece “evil ring thingy”. But then they made us wear these weird robe things and towels over our heads with an eye slit…which i later figured out was for the mouth. As I couldn’t breathe. And then they decided to do a full on capture the flag war with the sopranos/altos against the bass/tenors, but of course it was my dream, so it turned into an epic fantasy capture the flag game. Like in that movie Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief. But I was with the Basses because that’s where I ended up as before. Well, in this fantasy world, they all suddenly became huge merciless stone trolls and we were trying to make a siege on the good characters side/ castle. I was a mouse but at the same time it was a completely separate story. Anyways, one of the trolls started the siege early and because he tripped before reaching the wall, the other trolls tore him apart. They then proceeded to tell me that if I failed I would be likewise torn apart and devoured. I schemed and decided that I could infiltrate the castle because of my size and because I used to be one of them (the sopranos/altos)…as I was leaving to break into the castle one of the trolls thought I was trying to escape and grabbed me to start ripping me apart–but AHAH–I had my green dragon’s egg which I broke over his head and it exploded, causing him to reel back, let me go, and at the same time made a huge explosion on the west side of the gate of the castle. Lots of green flames. By this time, I was able to somehow make it into the castle. I’m not sure how, but I did make it. I got to the highest room in the highest keep and I could see the battle happening below. I was sneaky and got to the prize/treasure/flag thing that only had one guard that was facing away from me. I lifted it up off the pedestal and then the guard turned and faced me. It was one of those little knit characters that you make out of that grid wax and cross hatching or whatever. Anyways, it was really little (although I was a mouse I was more like Reepicheep) and it said in its small voice “Oh, I’m so glad it was you who retrieved it!” And then I nodded politely, and dashed off. Into a hole in the wall that was kind of “The Borrowers” style, if you know what I mean. It was basically a mouse’s interpretation of a home using stolen objects from humans and putting them in the walls. I raced up to my old room in this wall (I used to live there? hello weird subconscious) By this time, I was narrating for myself within the dream. “I retrieved a locket my mother once had, something from my brother (can’t remember that one)” and just as I was dashing off to get something else….A HUGE SPIDER WOKE ME UP AS IT CRAWLED ACROSS MY ARM. I CAN’T BELIEVE I WAS COGNAZENT ENOUGH TO PUT MY FINGER DOWN ON IT AND PUSH. AND TRAP IT BEFORE IT COULD GO FURTHER. UUUUGGGGH. HEEBIE JEEBIES.

I hate those things. Who knows how my dream would have went. Although I am pretty excited that I was able to pull myself out of the dream from a barely there sensation on my arm. There is now one more dead spider in the world. And now that you’ve all seen how I dream at least I have an excuse.

And now I need to go find my totem to make sure that I’m not still dreaming. Shakes fist at INCEPTION.

Why Matt Smith Is Brilliant But At The Same Time Will Never Replace David Tennant.

David Tennant is. That's right. Just is. No questions asked.

David Tennant leaving Doctor Who. Every generation/people group who watches the british serial ‘Doctor Who’ gets what they call “their doctor”. For some it may be Baker, Pertwee, for others it may be Troughten or Eccleston. For me, my doctor has and always will be Tennant. He’s just so brilliant. Some might argue that he’s too radical, too much of a departure from the other doctors. But isn’t that the point of Doctor Who? Isn’t that the point of the regeneration cycle? To bring something new and refreshing and different to what has already been done. Yes, Tennant’s doctor was dashing, flawed, and hyper. But that’s why I loved him. He wasn’t a crotchety old man set in his ways. He was ready to be wrong.

Matt Smith is hilarious. He’s sort of a cross between a bumbling old man and spry young man. After all, bow ties are cool. He’s really funny–he has this off kilter sort of humor–and great comedic timing. He seems to be more befuddled then bemused as David Tennant was. David Tennant was silly–no, he was obnoxious. But here is what Tennant had going for him–his righteous anger. Tennant was the epitome of savior like hero. He would have meshed into any Greek tragedy easily. Smith has the inability to make the viewer believe it. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Smith’s interpretation, but he is no where near the level of authority Tennant’s character had. Tennant was the Oncoming Storm. Smith is the guy in the bowtie.

This Helmet Is Not Good For Running–I Should Have Borrowed Charlton Heston’s Scarf From Soylent Green!

So. Here I am watching Psych. Again. All of the 80’s references=never gets old. So good. And then they referenced Soylent Green. And I was so happy on the inside.

The first. And only time. And hopefully last time that I watched Soylent Green. Was at the Lovett household. Yes, that home away from home, that perfect solace of magnificent soul-filling haven. Anyways. I’d always heard the line “Soylent Green is people!” and so when we were flipping through the channels on a Sunday afternoon and Soylent Green popped up, I jumped on the opportunity to watch it. All 97 minutes of it. Realistically, it felt like three hours of Charlton Heston running and sweating. Profusely. All of the time spent for that iconic line…all that non build-up…hurt. In the last three minutes of the film Charlton Heston shouts “SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE!” and then you feel good. I mean. Then the movie is worth it. And you ask yourself, how could an hour and a half of Charlton Heston be redeemed by one line? It just does. That’s the reason it’s iconic.

Icons are iconic for a reason. And I am way distracted now. So. Hopefully I can continue this thread on icons later.

In parting: “I’m calling my bloody constant.”–Desmond Hume. Maybe you should call yours.

I’m A Little Nervous To Run Into Dwight On His Connecting Flight To Mordor…

Taken from The Office episode “Dwight’s Speech”. It is a speech that Dwight has to give at a Paper Selling Conference, as he is the Number One Salesman of the year, and it is completely unorthodox and hilarious because Jim gives him tips (based on dictators like Mussolini etc):

“BLOOD ALONE MOVES THE WHEELS OF HISTORY! [pause] Have you ever asked yourselves in an hour of meditation – which everyone finds during the day – how long we have been striving for greatness? [bangs fist] Not only the years we’ve been at war the war of work but from the moment as a child, when we realize the world could be conquered. It has been a lifetime struggle [bang’s fists again] a never-ending fight, I say to you [bangs again] and you will understand that it is a privilege to fight. WE ARE WARRIORS! [applause] Salesmen of north-eastern Pennsylvania, I ask you once more rise and be worthy of this historical hour. [even bigger applause as Dwight gives a horrible sounding laugh] No revolution is worth anything unless it can defend itself. Some people will tell you salesman is a bad word. They’ll conjure up images of used car dealers, and door to door charlatans. This is our duty to change their perception. I say, salesmen and women of the world… unite. We must never acquiesce, for it is together… TOGETHER THAT WE PREVAIL. WE MUST NEVER CEDE CONTROL OF THE MOTHERLAND… Audience: …FOR IT IS TOGETHER THAT WE PREVAIL! [thunderous applause]”

If You’re Made of Metal, Are An Extraterrestrial, And Come From Cybertron Please Be My Best Friend. Postscript.

So,it occurred to me that the fact that I didn’t specify in my earlier post if said Cybertronian must be an Autobot or a Decepticon. Well, not really, it occurred a while back. But now I’m just going to say it. I wasn’t going to say it. I was just going to let it slide. But then I couldn’t.  I’m looking for an Autobot. Not a Decepticon. But if your still feeling miffed about the whole thing, I would gladly take you (Decepticon A) out for coffee to talk about your feelings.

Also. As I grew up watching Beast Wars, I always have the compulsion to say Maximals and Predacons. Maximals=Autobots. Predacons=Decepticons. Which is why some people look at me sort of blankly wondering what the heck a Predacon is as we are talking about Transformers. Woops. And now I’d like to issue my formal apology for any future, past, or present slip-ups in the area of discerning the difference between Predacons and Decepticons.

Also. Karen has brown hair.

Making Life Decisions at 3:27 AM. That’s Ovaltine For You.

So. As many of you already know, I am transferring to BSU in Bemidji, MN, in the year of our Lord 2011 during the season of autumn. Of course, when I registered for my fall classes at NCU last spring, I was kind of counting on being an English Literature major with a minor in Greek. Now I fully intend to be a History major with a possible minor in Monty Python. (They don’t offer Greek at BSU.) So, as one might imagine, the credits required for either major are just a bit slightly hugely gigantically abysmally different. And so here I am, at 3:30 in the morning, trying to figure out what to do with my courses at NCU this fall. First of all, I must have been very happy in my English class last spring (I’d chalk it up to the Lord of the Rings research paper) as I registered for three english classes in the fall. That’s right. And one of the them is senior level. Senior in college level. Oh, and Greek. And three English classes. How the heck am I going to write research papers for three different English classes at once, all the while juggling Greek, Psychology, and Public Speaking (which arguably PS does not really worry me a bit.) So, I’ve made the decision to cut Greek. Let’s face it people, where am I going to use Greek? BUT GREEK WOULD BE SO AWESOME WITH A HISTORY MAJOR! BUT BSU doesn’t offer it as a language (and I’m not even sure it would transfer) so that one semester of Greek would be a bit superflous in the long run. Also of the above three English classes I need to cut one out.

1. British Literature

  • Pros: It transfers. It’s British. It’s Literature. It’s British. Gary Dop.
  • Cons: What could be wrong with British Literature? Ridiculous to even consider.

2. History of the English Language

  • Pros: It has the word “history” in the title. It must be applicable. Carolyn Tennant. Etymology.
  • Cons: It might possibly maybe NOT transfer. I can’t figure it out.

3. Theatre Literature

  • Pros: Rozencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. I like theatre.
  • Cons: Not applicable. At this point. Well, I guess it is. BUT.

GAAAAH. I hate decisions. I was gonna get rid of Theater Literature and now I don’t know if I should get rid of History…no it’s history…British…no it’s BRITISH FOR PETE’S SAKE! Theatre Literature is out then. But what to replace it with?!

MPPYHS101: Course Description: What floats? Very small rocks and ducks.

If only.

PS/A COUPLE OF WEEKS LATER:

So. I cut Greek. And History of the English Language. I know I said I was going to cut Theatre Lit, but I decided to keep it. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead needs to be read.

PPS/ONE DAY AFTER THE COUPLE OF WEEKS LATER:

So. I did cut Greek. And I did cut History of the English Language. But then I had a ridiculous class with an unsavory professor where I had to deal with the whole mosque debate. So I cut that class. And replaced it with History of the English Language. Which happened at the same time as that class. Oh yeah, it’s etymology. And I’m totally loving it.

Did You Say Uruk-Hai or Uruk-Cry?

This image gets me every time. Thank you, very bored nerd out there somewhere.

Attack Of The Crones. Only Slightly More Threatening Than An Attack Of The Clones. But Not At All Like Vaseline.

Random fact: So, I now have purple-brown hair. It is fun.

What time I haven’t spent sleeping today after church (came straight off a night shift this morning) I have been spending watching Shark Week. You know, sharks never used to freak me out. Or bother me. But now, I’m kind of glad I’ve only had to swim in the ocean once.

I am a hypochondriac. When I am swimming in lakes the thought always passes through my mind that some random gator was released into said lake and that said gator is going to eat me. Side Note: if said gator does attack, I hope he finishes me off quickly, because otherwise I’ll have to spend the rest of my life worrying about clocks and whether or not said gator is licking his lips for the rest of me. *10 points for DR

And now the sharks are after me. But I won’t let that affect my amphibious nature. Some of us were born to swim.

Small Crack of the Window to My Soul: The reason I love swimming is because it’s the closest I’ll ever get to flying.

Hash-browns are tasty. I had some hash-browns for breakfast. I had some hash-browns for lunch. Oh, and a potato. Pretty sure if I had to live on any vegetable it would be potatoes. And corn. You can’t really have one without the other. Well, you can. But it won’t taste nearly as good.

And now, a closing remark from my good friend Shawn Spencer: “Wow… Dad. Tell me you’re wearing that shirt because someone has to spot you from space.”

PS. I just realized that the above title has absolutely no relation to what I wrote. Although, arguably, what I wrote doesn’t really relate together either. I blame that stupid Little Toaster guy. Or whatever his name is. You know, that cartoon one. Oh, The BRAVE LITTLE TOASTER?! Maybe. Hmmmmm. Wikipedia, here I come.

Okay. Just so I understand it: in your wildest fantasy, you are in Hell, and you are co-running a bed-and-breakfast with the Devil.

Because The Office is just priceless. An excerpt taken from “The Job (2007)”:

Dwight Schrute: I’m going to be your new boss!
[chuckles]
Dwight Schrute: It is my greatest dream come true. Welcome to the Hotel Hell. Check-in time is now, check-out time is never.
Jim Halpert: Does my room have cable?
Dwight Schrute: No. And the sheets are made of fire.
Jim Halpert: Can I change rooms?
Dwight Schrute: Sorry, we’re all booked up. Hell convention in town.
Jim Halpert: Can I have a late checkout?
Dwight Schrute: I’ll have to talk to the manager.
Jim Halpert: You’re not the manager? Even in your own fantasy?
Dwight Schrute: I’m the owner. The co-owner. With Satan!
Jim Halpert: Okay. Just so I understand it: in your wildest fantasy, you are in Hell, and you are co-running a bed-and-breakfast with the Devil.
Dwight Schrute: Yeah, but I haven’t told you my salary yet.
Jim Halpert: Go.
Dwight Schrute: Eighty *thousand* dollars a year.

Might I Lend A Machete To Your Intellectual Thicket?

More rules for life that probably definitely might not help you. In fact they might be even more than less than unhelpful:

1. Stop trying to be right all the time. If everyone was right, no one would be left. (Wince, chuckle.)

2. Try harder to be right. Don’t back off from the fight. Unless it might cause World War 3, but in that case, we’ve kind of all been waiting for it to start so we can get over with it–so you might as well. Look forward to the days when you can say “Blimey, it’s been a while since WWIII; we need another one!” (Also, if WWIII does commence then Dwight won’t have to worry about creating another plague.)

4. Skip numbers. Who says you have to follow a linear progression constantly? Shake things up a bit. Wear a sweater. When you’re hot.

6. Arbitrarily make references to things in the fictional world, or for that matter, things in the temporal world. If you know so much about it, other people probably haven’t studied up on it.

73. Do not allow your life to enter this cyclical pattern: Check your bank statements. Get a job. Lose your summer. Get money. Spend it all. Check your bank statements. Get a job. Lose your summer. Get Money. Spend it all. Check your bank statements…Sometimes it’s better to be a hobo. Or that thirty year old in your mum’s basement. (PS. If there is a thirty year old living in your basement who you don’t know, you should probably be reaching for your handset and be remembering the numerical sequence 911.)

42. The answer to life, the universe, and everything. Or so Douglas Adams says. I think the number is somewhere more around 4,815,162,342. Although I could be wrong.

9. Watch Lost. Or some other show that really makes you think. Makes you process things. Quotes that’ll jump out at you and stick with you. Twists that’ll have you reeling for days.

12. If you start a blog, expect to forget about it. I already forgot about this one. Lots of times.

34. Pick up a book. Please. And then you can come argue with me about whether the grass is green or red.

85. Excerpts are optional hand-crafted summaries of your content that can be used in your theme.

97. If you don’t return things to libraries or rental stores you will have to pay a fine. Or just make someone else rent something for you.

3. Have a fantastic life.

Holy Crap. No Literally. I Think I Almost Crapped Myself Thinking About This Quote Regarding Mindless Religious Tradition.

Read it once. Read it twice. Think about it. Read it again.

“I want to write songs that give your heart language in the porch lights of your own reckoning; dangerous songs that give you permission to wear your heart on your sleeve before Jesus, unencumbered by the grave cloths of mindless tradition.”–John Mark McMillan

Wait for it to sink in. Read it again. It will hit you over the head like a brick.

Holy crow.

And So The Safety Scissors And The Glitter Becomes A Reality. Also Bram Stoker.

Remember how I said that if I didn’t post for a while that it meant I was sitting at the back of the classroom with the safety scissors and glitter? Like Mickey Smith. Well that’s not exactly what was happening. Mostly me just working all night at Walmart and sleeping all day during the day. Ahah, redundancy is upon us! Well, and having Soph over for Doctor Who/Any Epic Film Mo Decides They Will Be Viewing That Day crunch time. And then more sleep. This being said, my summer hasn’t really been a summer at all. A bit vampiric in fact. Which reminds me of Dracula. Bram Stoker knew what he was doing when he wrote that. Man, I love that book. And I’ve only read it once!? I mean once?! Me, the re-reader of massive quantities of novels, who spends about just as much time re-reading old books as reading new novels. I don’t know–there’s just something about a good book–one that really hits home. Especially British Literature. They just have a way with words. It’s indescribable. They give me that feeling–where your heart swells and you don’t think you’ll be able to breath for the next five minutes and you don’t care–cause it’s such a great feeling. Anyways, I first read Dracula when we moved to Iowa during my sophomore year. Yah, I didn’t have a lot of human friends, but at least I had the next best thing: a living breathing novel full of characters I would grow to love and hate. Unfortunately, Dracula can’t even be read for a while, because I’m supposed to have eleven books read by the beginning of the semester. Which I haven’t started yet. Woops.

PS. Last week’s episode of Psych had the most hilarious dialogue between Shawn and Gus:

  • Gus: Wait. They were trying to have a baby, but they weren’t even married?
  • Shawn: Gus, get with the times–it’s 2008.
  • Gus: It’s 2010.
  • Shawn: Heh. Nice try. That would mean we’re at war with the machines.

Also. Movies of the week so far:

  1. Robin Hood: Men In Tights
  2. Blades of Glory
  3. Doctor Who: The Pandorica Opens
  4. Psych: Feet Don’t Kill Me Now
  5. Doctor Who: Blink
  6. Doctor Who: Human Nature
  7. Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen
  8. The Bourne Identity
  9. Away We Go
  10. Hairspray
  11. Doctor Who: The Time of Angels
  12. Doctor Who: The Hungry Earth
  13. Torchwood: The Small Worlds

Because when I’m not sleeping, working, or eating, I am definitely watching movies.