Dead Oxen & Potential Interventions

Almost a year ago now I talked about my diet pepsi addiction using The Oregon Trail to illustrate my issues. For today’s purposes let’s continue this metaphor.

I have an announcement. I tried to ford the river and my oxen all died.

What does that mean in pepsiholicism?

Rivers are those moments of temptation. You either cross successfully (and don’t give in and drink pepsi), or you flail around a lot and drown (but not literally, it’s not like you’re choking to death on pepsi, just you are in fact drinking it again). Sometimes a passenger in the wagon dies (you take a sip) but you still make it across (you don’t get back in the pepsi habit). When all the oxen die, that generally means the wagon is going down too. So are all the passengers (people traveling to Oregon don’t know how to swim, btw). You lost the game, and you need to start back over in Independence.

So basically what I’m saying here, as my friend Kevin puts it, is that I need to turn in my chip.

Not that I had a chip, which is a shame all in itself. Should I successfully get off pepsi again I want chips, or badges, or something. Somebody get on that.  

I’m not overly upset at myself. Every so often you come up to a river that you can’t ford. Sometimes you really should have just sucked it up and taken the ferry. Not that I have any idea what the ferry would be in this metaphor. I’m just saying.

For those that don’t know already, my cat died last month. That was my river. I came home and found a dead cat, and I’ll be the first to say I did not react in the best manner. In the course of events I ended up over at my friend’s house, where there just happened to be a 2 liter of pepsi in the fridge. I had a few glasses there to calm down (I entered the river), I took the 2 liter home with me (the oxen floundered), and once it was gone since I still wasn’t particularly happy about the situation I went ahead and bought myself more (oxen died, supplies were lost, passengers drowned).

I had plenty of opportunities to not fall off the pepsi wagon. I could have had a few glasses but left the bottle there. I could have finished the bottle but not bought more. I could have bought more for that week but then stopped once it was gone. Or, I COULD HAVE MADE IT SO THE 2 LITER WAS NEVER AT MY FRIEND’S HOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE.

If anything about my relapse annoys me, it’s that. The presence of the 2 liter was entirely my fault in the first place. What happened is that the weekend right before everything went down a few friends gathered at Pietro’s to socialize and play games. We ran out for supplies. We had rum since we needed it for mojitos, we had beer because you always need beer, and we ended up getting some pop for one of the girls that didn’t particularly like mojitos or beer. We figured she could have rum & coke. As she grabbed the bottle of coke, I protested, because after all pepsi is so much better.

Did I drink any of it that night? No! I had no intention of drinking it. But such is my insanity that even though I wasn’t going to be drinking the beverage, I wanted it to be my beloved pepsi instead of coke.

And THAT’s why there was a 2 liter of pepsi in Pietro’s fridge. I believe this was the only time THIS ENTIRE YEAR there has been pepsi in that fridge, and it just so happened to be the same week I hit a river.

Le sigh.

Meanwhile I have not gone completely crazy about the pepsi thing (although that may depend on who you ask about it). I bought mini bottles of pepsi so I’m not drinking that much. I’m drinking regular pepsi instead of diet, because I can’t drink as much regular pepsi at one time without feeling sick. Every few days I try to have a day with no pepsi whatsoever (although I will admit I’m not in the best mood those days). I’m well aware I need to quit again, I’m just waiting until after our big work conference. Or maybe after my weird work transition thing ends in October. Or actually maybe it would best be a goal for the next year.

But do I really need to quit again? I mean who’s to say I do? Plenty of people all over the world drink pop. I know I’ve talked about being healthier this year and pepsi is not the healthiest thing in the world, but everything’s okay in moderation. One of my initial reasons for quitting was the effect on my teeth, but I’ve been brushing every time I finish drinking it. So why can’t I keep drinking it? Just because people think I’m “addicted.” Please.

I suspect I sound crazy again. My friend Jenn and I were discussing this yesterday and she told me I was crazy ranting. She also threatened an intervention. I said not yet. I can totally quit, just not yet.

Clearly a sign we should wait until next May

The good news is that Jenn is hundreds of miles away from me! Normally not good news, but in this case it means she can’t actually pepsintervention me (yes I made that all one word. Deal with it). Thank goodness. Because I think she was actually being serious about that idea, and I’m not ready to start back on the trail again.

5 Ways I Definitely Don't Want to Die

There’s this thing about death that bugs me. Beyond the whole you/someone/something is dead issue. It’s that you generally have no control over it. There are obvious exceptions, like sticking your head in the oven (which is cheating/losing the game of life), or sticking someone else in an oven (which isn’t polite), but overall it just sort of happens. I think I can accept that. The thing is there are particular ways that I’d really prefer not to die, thank you very much, and I worry that they will end up being my end. So I thought as a precaution, I’d make a list of the 5 ways I least want to die. I see this as a way to throw my preferences out into the universe so when my time comes, someone somewhere has it under consideration.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #5 – Slow Zombie Gnawing

Ok so I grant that zombies are technically not an issue. Right now. Reading cracked.com might give you a different view. I’m not saying I’m really worried about this happening. Just so we’re all clear.

Are you sure you don't want to try vegetarianism??

In most cases one of the scary things about zombie attack is that you have to not die and at the same time not get infected, because that’s basically a death sentence. I’m totally okay with that concept. I mean I don’t particularly want to turn into a zombie, but just a little nibble and getting infected is acceptable.

What I don’t want is to be in a situation where the zombies really get a chance to gnaw. It’s basically tantamount to being torn apart. Sooooooooo not fun.

Technically Michelle Rodriquez didn’t get slowly eaten by the mob, but it looks like a possibility, and that’s scary enough.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #4 – Insides on the Outside

You know my fear of zombie nibbling is probably actually a subset of this. But basically, I want my internal organs to stay inside my body. Injuries to those organs resulting in death are okay as long as THEY STAY INSIDE MY BODY.

You can't go wrong with Indiana Jones

I’m not big on losing body parts. Break things, they fix. Chop off a finger or pull out an eye though and I squirm (for the record, Hostel traumatized me). This gets even worse when we start talking about things that I don’t normally see. I know I have guts. I don’t need to see them dangling out my torso. Oh my god and what if they like drag in the ground and now there’s all sort of dirt and leaves and dust on my organs. I am not comfortable with this conversation.

I had a tough choice on this movie example, but I think we have to go with a classic. Please sir, don’t rip out my heart. No literally, don’t you even freaking try to rip out my heart. We will no longer be friends.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #3 – Helpless

In any of the situations listed so far, sure I might end up dying, but I’d damn well try to live first. I’d fight those zombies to the bitter end. I’d shove those intestines (and the leaves and dirt and whatever else they picked up from the ground… seriously why do we keep having this conversation) back in and try to stitch myself up. I’d make an effort.

So what terrifies me is the idea that I see death coming and can’t do anything about it.

I'd like to switch seats now.

Case in point? Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid. One of the characters is bitten by a spider (also not ideal), paralyzed, and then chomped by an anaconda. So he’s sitting there paralyzed, he can see the anaconda in the background, and he has no way to move or communicate to the others that he is about to die. Super dislike. I mean yeah I might end up in a snake belly regardless, but for the sake of my dignity I want at least a chance to escape.

Don’t believe in giant snakes? Ok fine, let’s go with another example. There’s always Saw 3. Poor Allison Kerry has to stick her hand in acid otherwise her ribs get torn apart. Even though she completes the “challenge,” she realizes the key to her safety doesn’t work. She thought she had a chance to save herself, and instead she’s powerless. Oh how I sympathized with her for those few terrible seconds before she dies from rib ripping. No bueno.

Last of the Mohicans = not a kid's movie (but I watched it)

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #2 – Trial By Fire

DO NOT LIGHT ME ON FIRE. IT LOOKS INCREDIBLY PAINFUL.

That is all.

Way I Definitely Don’t Want to Die #1 – Jaws of Death

Those that know me knew this was coming. It’s not like it’s a surprise to anyone. I am absolutely, completely, bat-shit crazy, terrified of sharks. It’s not just fear at this point. It’s a phobia. What’s the difference? Well fear is being presented with something and being afraid (so swimming, bumping into a shark, and being like AHH!). A phobia is being so terrified of something you actively avoid it at all costs even when it’s ridiculous (so not closing your eyes in the bathtub on the off chance a shark appears).

Amazingly enough I will go in the ocean, but every time I’m convinced I may die. I generally stay in the “safe” zone. I only feel moderately better about this, because there is no true safe zone. Except maybe when the water doesn’t reach my ankles. Don’t believe me? Did you know shark attacks have occurred in only 3 feet of water? Yeah, true story.

I don't how fake the shark looks, I AM AFRAID

It’s interesting that many people are afraid of sharks specifically because of movies like Jaws. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a terrifying movie. I still haven’t technically watched all of it because I normally freak out and either close my eyes or change the channel. But I’m a bit odd in that I’ve just always been afraid of sharks. Because I was already ridiculous about it, my parents refused to let me watch shark movies when I was a kid.

Whenever I’m in water – pool water, ocean water, lake water, doesn’t really matter – I just have this instinctive feeling that something is coming up from below to eat me. I can’t stop it. No amount of facts in the world can prevent this fear. Deep down in my core I am convinced I will die from shark attack, and I dread it more than anything.

In fact, I would probably rather die from any of these other scenarios than be attacked by a shark, even if I survived the shark attack. Because I am convinced that mentally I would completely shut down. The moment I am in the water with a shark will be the moment I lose the last remnants of my sanity. Even if by some miracle I could process it mentally, I think I’d just have a heart attack and die from pure terror.

Just so you know, were a “friend” to ever arrange a “harmless” prank involving sharks…. That would be the definitive end of our friendship. I would never speak their name again. They would receive the “you're dead to me” look.  Every single Mario Party game, millions of cans of pepsi, and even presents of kittens or puppies would not come even close to earning forgiveness.  

In theory, I probably won't die in any of these methods. Well, one can hope anyways. 

Happier than Dracula Volunteering at a Blood Drive

Because I'm obsessed with TVD.

My mother and I are both easily amused. We love the movie Zoolander, like all the awesome new toys for kids, and are prone to having laughing fits in public places (typically department stores for my mother, and really just about anywhere for me). I’ve always considered this a positive trait. When things aren’t great, it helps to be easily amused. Sure, awesome spring rolls, mini gummy bears, and my favorite commercial may only provide momentary happiness, but you take what you can get.

Yesterday I was just describing my favorite commercial to a friend. It’s the Geico commercial with the blood drive. And aptly enough, it reminded me that today is World Blood Donor Day, which I decided I want to talk about.

I have very complicated emotions around donating blood. I think it’s a great thing to do. While I appreciate when everyone bands together and donates after some sort of disaster leaves the banks a little low, I am mildly annoyed that more people don’t donate more often. My friend Erin talked last year about being a good citizen. Well at some point I’m going to take that a step further to just being a good person, and I think donating blood and other such things is tied to that.

Now, having just said that, I must confess I haven’t donated blood in YEARS.

I used to donate fairly regularly. I actually had two separate donor cards as I donated both at home and in a different area when I was at college. I was never as awesome as my friend Kevin and asked to donate extra amounts at once, but that’s probably to be expected as I’m tinier and certainly not the healthiest person in the world.

Donating blood for me is very similar to how some people feel about the gym. I hated the experience, but I liked feeling good about it afterwards. Oh, and how I hated the experience. It’s not just the whole “there’s-a-freaking-needle-in-your-arm-thing” (although I don’t like needles, and sometimes they wouldn’t cover it so I’d be sitting there staring at this needle poking out of my arm… ick). It took FOREVER and a half. Seriously. I’m not even talking about the lines. Sometimes I’d go with other people. We’d all be in the same place in line. We’d all make it onto the cots around the same time. They’d finish, and get to go have a snack. I’d have to sit there and watch until finally 10-20 minutes later I was done. This is not even an exaggeration. My blood apparently refused to fill the bag at a normal rate.

Luckily it’s hardly ever the same workers, so they didn’t realize the problem was me. They kept checking the bag, and the line, convinced something was broken. I just sat there and looked innocent.

I prepped for days in order to give blood. Since sometimes I had some trouble passing the anemia test, before a blood drive I’d chow down on vitamins and extra meat. I’d drink fluids out the wazoo. I made sure I had clothing that either exposed my arms or was easy to move out of the way.

Then during college I ran into my first serious issue. I was giving blood and it was actually going pretty quickly. It looked like I might even be done near normal person time. I was sitting there pretty thrilled with myself, when all of a sudden I realized I was about to pass out. I was hot, my vision was blackening, and there was a loud buzzing in my ears. I tried to alert the person and I suppose I was successful, but I couldn’t tell you what I said because everything seemed to slow and my words were incomprehensible.

A bit later, I woke up. Sure enough I had passed out. Not afterwards, mind you. Not walking over to the snack station. Nope, lying there in the midst of giving blood I had passed out. Even better, apparently I hadn’t woken up right away. No, apparently several minutes and quite a lot of cold water was involved before they could get me conscious. My person was totally freaked out. They basically told me they couldn’t use my blood to donate but instead would use it for testing purposes, because something had to be wrong with me.

It’s unclear what exactly the first issue was. After this experience I felt horrible for a few days. I almost passed out again every time I had to go to one of my classes on the 4^th floor. I slept like mad. I didn’t really feel like myself again until about a month later, and eventually the decision was I had some sort of virus.

So a few months later I tried giving blood again.

Now since we had decided I was sick for the last fiasco, I was mildly nervous but not too bad. My blood was going slow as usual which seemed like a good sign. Then wouldn’t you know it, I started getting dizzy, losing vision, and became crazy hot. Luckily this time my person was able to spin me around and start holding cold cloths to my face before I actually passed out. It was a close thing. And again, this was during the donation process, not afterwards. This time there was a new fun problem as well. As I started to feel better, they realized no new blood was going into the bag. Apparently my blood clotted in the tube or something and they couldn’t get anymore out.

I decided to give it one more attempt when I was back home. Granted I didn’t actually pass out, but it took somewhere between a half hour and forty minutes before they gave up on getting a full bag of blood out of me, and I could barely walk for the rest of the day.

Sooooo…… I’m kinda nervous to try again.

It’s been years since these experiences, and we all know I’m much healthier now! I’m eating somewhat better, and I jazzercise more than a sane person probably should. Considering I’m 0+ (for those not in the know, people with 0- are more awesome than me, but I out-awesome everyone else) I feel like it’s my duty to try again. But to be safe I probably shouldn’t drive myself there, and being me, I don’t really want to ask someone else to drive me either.

You can see why I have unresolved issues over this. I want to donate, but I don’t want to be half-dead because of it. I want to encourage people to donate since it’s World Blood Donor Day, but that seems hypocritical. Maybe I’ll celebrate by just watching my favorite commercial again. Every time it finally reveals the vampire volunteer I just cackle. Ahh… good times.

Game of Thrones - One Family's Obsession

What kind of neek would I be if I didn’t talk about Game of Thrones at some point? I have to say I’m pleasantly surprised at how popular it’s become. I don’t want to pull an “I liked it before it was cool” move, but I totally did. Well, at least before the show was cool. There are many others who liked the books before me, as I didn’t jump in until 2009.

Really, I owe it all to my friend Fitzwilliam. He had the first book in the series, A Game of Thrones, but he didn’t particularly like it. Being a clever and insightful friend he realized it was probably something more along my lines, as he noted when he gave it to me “Hey you want this book? It has incest and dragons.” Score (although one should note that neither of those reasons are why Fitzwilliam disliked the book, he didn’t care for the constant politics, which I also enjoy).

Seriously we're obsessed, this is my brother's wall.

Eventually my family got involved and now it’s our new Harry Potter -  with everyone reading and discussing and threatening each other if they reveal important plot points.

Initially, this wasn’t so much an issue with the television series. Sure, the first season I didn’t watch on a regular basis as I didn’t have HBO at the time. Instead every few weeks I’d go to my friend Chloe’s house and we’d have a lovely day lounging around, catching up on episodes, and eating a lot (so basically all our favorite things). My parents and brother were both watching more often than me, but as the first season stayed very close to the books they couldn’t truly spoil anything.

The second season was a bit more of an issue. The second book was longer than the first, but not as long as the third. So it didn’t break down as easily into the television episodes. They had to start making some drastic changes to the material. Not changes on the level of say, True Blood, but enough that I wasn’t always sure what exactly would happen next.

The biggest challenge was when the family first started reading the books. SOOO much can happen in a single book that when my mother would say she was halfway through A Feast For Crows I couldn’t always remember what happened exactly when. This meant that when the family was happily discussing events I generally stayed quiet.

Then the tables turned. I have this thing with reading. I want to read books. I’m still not sold on reading electronic copies. I do it sometimes, but not often. I also don’t like hardbacks. They’re expensive, and they’re giant. I don’t have enough room on my bookcase as it is. So when A Dance of Dragons came out, my entire family what with their lack of book snobbery downloaded and read it while I impatiently waited for the paperback release. Then for months they tried to talk about it without giving anything away. My mother isn’t particularly good at that (a trait I inherited) so eventually I just gave in and read it on my iPad.

Because by this point, a large portion of the conversation in my family revolves around Game of Thrones. We discuss our favorite characters. My mom, for instance, has a huge crush on Jon Snow. We talk about the characters we don’t like. For months one of my brother’s chief joys was to describe Tywin Lannister to his friends. He calls him the ultimate troll dad.

My family both does and does not identify with the characters from Game of Thrones. Like I said, my brother now calls Tywin Lannister the ultimate troll dad. For many years we thought our father was the ultimate troll dad. In fact my brother even created a comic depicting how our dad got a bit confused on the definition of “trolling” after we kept saying he was “trolling” all the time.

Based on real events!

Now if you’ve ever watched Game of Thrones, or read the books, you probably know that Tywin Lannister is a cruel person, and a horrible father. Don’t be confused and think my daddy is anything like that. Tywin Lannister trolls as a way of controlling those around him, and doesn’t care who he hurts. My father trolls in a more good natured way that doesn’t hurt anyone. He’s probably got much more Ned Stark in him, but with a more realistic way of viewing people.

As for me? My brother has called me a Lannister (which I’m a little insulted by). My dad thinks I’m a Sand Snake (which you haven’t seen on the show yet, give it time, and more seasons). My mother thinks I’m a Targaryen. Probably the best of the lot, considering how much I love Daenerys.

We talk about Game of Thrones so much because we care about the characters. It’s a big deal when they kill someone off. And the problem is based on the newest episode, I’m starting to question if they’re going to kill off more characters in the series that are still alive in the books. You can’t do that to me! I thought they were safe!

When These Snakes Get Jiggy... People DIE

“You can't let the animals die... just the women.”

-Billy, Seven Psychopaths

I considered calling this a For The Few post since there are going to be spoilers for Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid. Of course then I realized that anyone that would care about spoilers has probably already watched the movie. In fact, I think I need to start this post by justifying why exactly I was watching Anacondas in the first place.

It was a typical afternoon at my apartment. I was done with work for the day, and had about an hour or two until jazzercise. This is a very hard time of day for me. I don’t want to get involved in anything too exciting, because it makes it harder for me to stop what I’m doing and go to jazzercise. I don’t want to eat anything, because I’ve finally learned that it’s a bad idea to snack on things like icecream, cookie dough, and frozen pepperoni right before working out. So my solution during this time frame is to read a bit while watching tv. That way I’m not totally invested in either activity. I was browsing the listings trying to find something I’d watched before, but nothing really jumped out. That is, until I saw Anacondas was about to start.

Ta da! Perfect solution. I’ve watched Anaconda before and figured Anacondas would be similarly cheesy and not too distracting. And indeed, at first I was barely paying attention. Scientists, sexual tension, giant snakes, blah blah blah. And then there was Kong. Kong is the pet monkey that lives on the boat, and he is adorable! Near the beginning of the movie it looks like he gets eaten. I was horribly offended. You can’t kill off the animals! But luckily shortly thereafter it’s revealed that he’s still alive. Well now I was intrigued, I had to make sure Kong really survived to the end. Unfortunately it was now time to jazzercise, so I ended up recording the movie when it played overnight to watch some other day.

Look how cute he is! (the monkey)

The good news is that Kong lives. I was concerned. The filmmakers clearly didn’t understand my obsessive need to make sure he’s alive, so there would be shots of the characters walking around the jungle or going over waterfalls and they’d show all the people so you knew who was still alive, but sometimes neglected to show Kong.

You may have noticed the tie to the starting quote, which by the way is from the movie Seven Psychopaths (which is awesome if you have my type of dark, twisted humor). I giggled when they said that in the movie, but it’s so true. Kill off the male and female characters in horrible ways and people may be shocked, but whatevs. Kill a puppy or kitten, and I will start sobbing hysterically. I don’t want to even talk about movies like I Am Legend.

Of course this is also true for children. And I’ve decided the similarity here is helplessness. A baby can’t save itself. A toddler can’t always waddle to safety. Depending on the circumstances, an animal can’t always save itself either. The kids and animals of the world need someone to help them.

What I find interesting about horror movies is the way female characters are treated. And some of that is tied to the idea of helplessness. Just recently I was reading a novel about survivors of the Titantic disaster, and it was talking about how women were protesting the fact that far more men died because they gave their places in the lifeboats to women. Chivalry is all well and good, but as I’ve actually discussed before I don’t want somebody to die to save me. 

I also don’t think that just because somebody is a female we should assume she’s helpless. I mean yes, if there’s a spider attacking me I’m going to scream and run away and not be particularly useful. But giant snakes? Totally cool with that. Or zombies? Well assuming they’re slow and I have a gun or a machete or something useful I can deal with that too.

You can get into a whole debate over how horror movies treat female characters. There is the fact that they are prone to killing them off (at least the slutty ones). Also, that they tend to just run around screaming instead of doing anything productive.

But luckily this is not true of every horror movie! Anacondas has some nice diversity in helplessness. Some of the characters that start out shrill and useless (Gail, I’m looking at you) end up a bit more BAMF by the end.

Which is why I discovered that when I actually sat down and watched Anacondas all the way through, I quite enjoyed it! Is it a good movie? Well, no. But it was fun for me to watch. Since I’m not overly afraid of snakes I could watch it without getting scared (unlike Eight Legged Freaks which was also playing this week, ick). If I happened upon it in a $5 movie bin I’d totally buy it. So while I felt I had to start this post by justifying why I watched Anacondas, I’m finishing it with some of the awesomeness of the movie!

• The whole premise is that there are some flowers in Borneo that can make you live a really, really, really long time. Right.
• Female cattiness is at its best in Gail. I’m still not entirely sure why she survives the movie.
• “I had this friend, who had this friend who shot documentaries, and he and his whole crew went down to the Amazon, and they were all eaten by snakes, and that’s a true story.”
• I actually really like Sam. She’s pretty spunky, and she has a great Neville Longbottom moment. Even when she starts getting a little hysterical by the end – it’s cool. It’s been a bad few days, everyone’s got a breaking point.
• Oh and let’s not forget to talk about our main Alpha male character, Bill. Could they make him any more macho? He wrestles a crocodile/alligator at one point for Pete’s sake! And the voice? This came out before Batman Begins otherwise I’d suspect him of trying to copy Christian Bale. Nonetheless, I enjoy him. He makes me giggle.
• The dialogue and delivery is hysterical. After Bill assures them they’re not going to run into any other anacondas, and then they do, he takes a deep dramatic breath and says “unless…. it’s mating season.” The true fear of people all over the world, anaconda mating season! In fact I’ve just created the new movie tagline – “when these snakes get jiggy with it, people DIE.”

A Reader's Rant

There are many things in life that irritate me – airport delays, people that tell me what to do, people that tell me what not to do, people that wear peach lotion – just to name a few. If you’re noticing the pattern (typically it involves people and their actions), yeah I’ve noticed that too. I have very low tolerance for stupid mistakes that could easily be corrected. This is why I go absolutely BONKERS over the fact that almost all written articles these days contain typos.

Seriously, it’s getting to be ridiculous. Especially considering that technology will now even catch some of our errors, and the rest could be caught with a quick edit.

I'm allowed to laugh, I'm an English Major

For the most part it’s not even grammatical errors, or if it is, it’s one that looks like it was just overlooked, not that the author lacks a basic understanding of grammar. Despite assumptions from friends, I’m really not that much of a grammar nazi. Some grammar and writing conventions are outdated or restrict the sentence flow. Especially the rule about ending with a preposition.

I had a teacher in high school that actually started trying to follow this rule, and would reword his sentences to make sure they didn’t end with a preposition. We thought it was funny, because half the time the sentence ends up weird.

Personally, I prefer writing to flow the same way a person talks. I still think there are different levels of writing, just like there are different levels of talking. I don’t use the exact same phrases with friends as I do with clients. But I don’t completely change my style of talking either.

If it sounds like I’m being hypocritical, complaining about writing errors and then excusing ungrammatical writing, I understand. Actually I have a few areas where I totally admit my hypocrisy, but this is not one of them. You see, what annoys me with writing errors are the stupid mistakes that could have been fixed if somebody had just checked for them. It’s not even the writing I’m mad at, it’s the laziness of not having someone proofread.

I’m talking about obvious errors here. I’m not even too hung up on things like “to” instead of “too.” Those sort of things are actually easy to overlook if you’re rushing (although why someone is rushing through instead of taking the time to properly look over their work is a good question).

When you write, you get in a certain mind frame. It’s quite simple to misread your writing so that you don’t catch errors. In fanfiction, most writers have what they call a “beta.” It’s basically an editor. Somebody to read through your work and check for those types of errors before you post.

Now sometimes a writer will post a new story, or a new chapter, without their beta checking through it. Some writers never use a beta (which actually includes me, I’ve never had a beta for my fanfiction). Typically they will include an acknowledgement or apology for any errors that do come up.

But that’s fanfiction, it’s not published, it’s just people screwing around for fun.

I’m more concerned with accredited media. I check Yahoo and MSN articles fairly often. It is becoming ridiculous how often I find simple errors in the articles. Seriously isn’t somebody getting paid for this writing? How can they push out news stories without doing a simple check of the article??

Again, I’m not even talking about little things like whether or not the Oxford comma is being used (although while we’re on the subject – if you do not support usage of the Oxford comma we should no longer be friends. Just saying). This is an example from earlier this week on yahoo. 

Somehow a random stream of words ended up in the middle of an article. Twice. Was this supposed to be a link? HOW DID THEY MISS THIS!?

Granted, with an online article I suppose they figure they can always edit it later. You have no idea how furious I get when this happens in printed materials.

Last month I borrowed a book from my friend Kevin called Armor. It was pretty fabulous. I think of it as a nice mix of Starship Troopers, the book, and Starship Troopers, the movie. But the typos. OMG. Every time I talked to Kevin about it (he actually hasn’t read it yet) that’s all I could talk about. There was a bajillion of them! All over the place! Like huge, glaringly obvious errors. More than once it actually duplicated an entire section of text further down the page, in the middle of a different paragraph. You can just guess how disconcerting that made the reading experience.

I’m currently in the middle of an excellent zombie book. It may be my new favorite zombie book ever (although actually I don’t have a current favorite zombie book, as I get halfway through reading them and then freak the heck out of myself and have to stop). It’s brilliant, as it explores the world 20 years after the zombie outbreak, and how it’s changed the way the news is reported and accessed. It’s called Feed by the way if you want to check it out. But even in this book I have caught more than once random question marks appearing in the middle of a sentence.

So if my sentence is supposed to be “people are sucking hardcore and not catching these stupid mistakes” it instead becomes “people are sucking hardcore and not? Catching these stupid mistakes.” These are not questions, just sentences, and the question mark doesn’t even appear in a logical place.

Now with fanfiction, an author can choose whether or not to use a beta. With published material, I always assumed that before investing good money in publishing a story, someone at some point would invest in a proofreader. Am I wrong? Are we sacrificing edits in order to deliver results faster?

I give you free reign to laugh at me now when my posts have little typos. It’s happened before, and I try to fix them whenever I can. I do check through my own writing at least once before putting it up, but I can’t catch everything. It would behoove me to have someone else check through as well, but this is just a blog for me to play around. I promise if at any point in life I’m going to have something published for real, it will be read over so many times that at least the informal proofreaders (me, plus friends and family I guilt trip) will have sections memorized.

After all, my momma raised me that if you’re going to do something, you don’t do it quick, you do it right.

 

It’s Only Weird if it Doesn’t Work

It might just be me, but everywhere I looked the past two days had posts about the coming snow storm such as jokes about the “snowquester” and tips for making sure school was cancelled.

Actually this was fairly useful. I learned some new superstitions for ensuring snow days. I already knew the classic pajamas inside out and backwards. I’ve never heard of a “snow dance” but I’ve probably done it unintentionally. Apparently putting ice cubes in the toilet, spoons under beds (or pillows), and white crayons in the freezer also works. Who knew? Not that I really expect much snow in Texas, but it’s better to be prepared.

I take superstitions somewhat to very seriously. It depends on the particular superstition. One of my favorite commercials this year featured various football fans and their superstitions, with the ending line of “it’s only weird if it doesn’t work.” Loved it. So true too! We all know my beloved team, the Steelers, had a bleak season after I was traveling constantly and unable to wear my lucky clothes and watch the games.

Now general superstitions, like breaking mirrors, walking under ladders, and black cats don’t really concern me. In fact the only time I really think about them is when playing one of the best slot machines ever, Hexbreaker. I do, however, have my own superstitions.

You may be already familiar with the “rabbit, rabbit” belief. Basically you’re supposed to say “rabbit, rabbit” on the first day of the month. You have to say it right away, before you say ANYTHING else. Some areas have a variation where you need to say it three times, rather like Beetlejuice. It’s supposed to be good luck. If you manage to say “rabbit, rabbit” first thing on the first of the month, you’re supposed to have an awesome month.

For years as a child I tried this. The problem was I failed miserably at remembering to say it in the morning. Who thinks about things like rabbits when they’re being dragged out of bed and forced to get ready for school?! It wasn’t until high school when I actually started to remember occasionally. And guess what? Every single time I managed to rabbit properly, it was a BAD month. Not like a combination of bad things. More along the lines of some sort of major bad life event happened, such as wrecking cars, unexpected moves, or people dying.

Thus it became clear to me that in my case, “rabbit, rabbit” is actually unlucky.  I now avoid saying it when at all possible. That’s harder than you think, because I may have brainwashed myself enough that sometimes I try to say it in the morning before I fully wake up.

I’m also superstitious about birthdays. Well, just my birthday. I love birthdays for other people! But for me, I consider my birthday bad luck. It never works out well. I see myself rather like Penny in Happy Endings with a birthday curse. This particular belief is so bad that I no longer celebrate my birthday. Generally I won’t even acknowledge when it is. Friends have found many ways to “cheat” the system and I appreciate their efforts and enthusiasm.

My other big superstition, really the end-all-be-all of my crazy beliefs, is around the number three. I consider it super awful bad luck.

This isn’t exactly unique. Actually the character Novalee does the same thing, although with different numbers, in Where the Heart Is. Oddly enough in the book it’s the number seven. In the movie, it’s the number five. I guess they thought it was too weird to think the number seven unlucky.

The number three is my worst unlucky number, but I also distrust the number nine. After all, it’s the number three times three. I don’t particularly like the number six either, but I’ll accept that it’s not as devious.

How do I handle this superstition? I avoid third floors, the third pump at the gas station, and any dangerous events on the third of the month. I’m waaaaaay more cautious in September and March. I drive super carefully anytime my car mileage has an excessive amount of threes or nines.

Like Novalee, this superstition came about after several unlucky events involving the numbers three and nine. What’s worse, in college when I was talked into watching The Exorcism of Emily Rose I learned that 3:00 AM is the “devil’s hour.” Considering I wake up around 3:00 AM almost every single night I find this terrifying, and further proof of bad luck. Allegedly the most deaths also occur between 3-5 AM. PROOF I TELL YOU.

Now if someone woke me up at 3:00 AM on the first of March and made me say “rabbit, rabbit?” in all likelihood I'd probably survive (probably), so I suppose we can't take these things too seriously... unless it's related to football.