And the fact that someone got paid to make this while I am waiting tables makes me want to weep.

An important note: While I own both a Wii and an XBox 360 (as well as the computer on which I’m typing this), the majority of the time I spend gaming is on iOS—specifically on my iPhone. Thus, these occasional posts may be less than interesting to you if you’re not an iOS user.

Without further adieu, I give you Edge (developed by Mobigame).

Aside from having a fun 80s-esque look to it (seriously, I’m a huge sucker for slick aesthetics), Edge is both fun and maddeningly frustrating. I finished the game a few years ago, pre-Game Center, and have since lost all my scores. I downloaded it again tonight, and can report that it is most definitely re-playable.

$2.99 on the App Store.

Just think about it. How cool is it that just doing something magically makes you into something? Maybe most people become runners, once they start running. Or they become musicians once they pick up an instrument. The point is, these states of being are completely dependent on activity. And that’s both good and bad news. The bad news is that if you’re not doing it, you’re sunk. You stop feeling like you are that thing. “I am not a runner,” you say. “I am not running. I have not run in weeks.” “I am not a writer,” I say. “I have not written jack in longer than I care to recall.” But the good news is, it’s relatively easy to turn it all around. It really is. I really don’t want to bring Nike into this picture, kids, but I will if I have to. It is a requirement that we do a particular activity in order to earn those magic transformative labels—I mean, you can tell anyone you are whatever the fuck you want to be, but you’ll also know, deep down, that putting “reading” on your resume under “interests” is complete bullshit unless you’ve lifted a tome or two in the last week.

I’m not saying all of this to make anyone (least of all myself) feel bad about their indiscretions when it comes to labeling ourselves. By all means, you are a creative, you are a reader, writer, runner. It is completely within your power to be these things.

So. Get off the little slobby sofa that you constantly recline on in your brain (you know the one I’m talking about—it’s burnt orange, sagging, and one arm has been clawed to death by the resident cat) and do some calisthenics. Then slap back on that beauty queen sash (gardener, rocket scientist, chef) and feel good about settling in with another local microbrew and three episodes of your current sci-fi tv show obsession.

Yokelly we are dealing with a sick cat. The vet says it is probably kidney disease, which is common in older cats. This requires repeated bouts of subcutaneous hydration to flush out the system, which you can pay the vet to do or do yourself. Step one is to stab the cat with the functional equivalent of an upholstery needle. Step two is to start the fluid flowing so as to convert the cat’s back and sides into a water bed—pockets of water form bulges under the skin. Step three is to stand out of the way when the cat vaults out of the administrator’s lap on feeling the fluid entering under its skin. The actual stabbing appears to be a case of “this hurts me more than it hurts you,” but apparently it is unpleasant to have water flowing in under your skin. Because you’re not trying for intravenous, an amateur can do it. The best I’ve been able to do so far in half a dozen stabbings is 150 ml. This ayem she escaped with about 35 ml inside and another 5 on the coffee table. As the YouTube video says, if the cat pulls away from the needle, massage the spot to close the hole and stick the needle in again. This experience, coupled with stuffing our flimsy camping tent into its long stuff sack—which always reminds me of barn scenes in All Creatures Great and Small—has convinced me that I did not miss a calling in veterinary medicine.

So there you have it.

For more gems like the one above, check out my dad’s blog.

Every two weeks, I buy a 12oz package of silken tofu in the minuscule natural foods section at my local Fred Meyer. (Seriously, the percent of the store from which I actually buy edible goods is probably about 1% of the building’s floorspace. Three aisles and one freezer of natural / organic / vegan / non-dairy / gluten-free / cruelty-free goodies. But I digress.)

The silken tofu has a very specific purpose: to make the best re-creation of Yumm! Sauce that I can muster. If you’re among the uninitiated, Yumm! Sauce is the staple of Café Yumm!, which is a fantastic eatery based out of Eugene, Oregon (and is spreading like wildfire—yay!). In any case, Yumm! Sauce is used to make Yumm! Bowls (I know the exclamation points are a little repetitive, bear with me), which are an amazing mixture of rice, beans, cheese, tomatoes, black olives, avocado, cilantro, salsa, sour cream, and Yumm! Sauce. When I was living in Eugene we’d eat there once a week-ish, and there would always be a liter of this stuff in the fridge so we could make our own bowls (and slather it all over baked potatoes).

Cut to the part of this sob story where I moved away from Eugene and landed in Fairbanks, Alaska. There is no Yumm! Sauce for sale in a several-thousand-mile radius. So I’ve been using this pretty reasonable recipe I found for “Yummy Sauce.” In any case, it calls for soy beans (the non-edamame kind), which I’ve been unable to locate in Fairbanks. And that’s where the silken tofu comes in.

I’ve taken a rather circuitous route to simply say that the recipe calls for 1/4 cup of the stuff, leaving me with a ton of silken tofu that would go bad by the time I was ready to make my next batch of Yumm! Sauce. So despite having bought the tofu for healthy purposes, this is what’s been happening: I’ve been making vegan brownies. Oh. My. God.

The problem with vegan desserts is that they don’t seem so decadent. (And if you’ve ever had the vegan chocolate mousse cake with raspberry topping at Sweet Life in Eugene, you know just how decadent they can be.) I mean, my recipe replaces all animal products with tofu and margarine. As a result I end up inhaling the entire batch within two or three days. I mean, they’re vegan, which by definition means “this is good for you, you dirty hippie!”

In any case, it’s a good thing that I’m participating in that activity I mentioned in my last post. A very very good thing.

P.S. Dear anyone from Café Yumm! If you’re reading this, the moment I move back to a place where I can buy honest-to-God Yumm! Sauce I will stop making my own, cross my heart and hope to die. Mine is just not quite the same. Hugs and kisses, Me

All my life, I’ve been skinny-fat. That is to say, I’ve never had weight issues to speak of, but moreover, I’ve never been an athlete. Even back in elementary school when I played rec soccer, I was never particularly sporty, much less good at the game. (At the time, I had a soft spot for playing defense. I was convinced I was good at defense, in fact, because I kept getting put in there. The clarity that “adulthood” brings…) Point being, I dreaded gym and the mile run and in high school I completed my physical education requirement via correspondence. I was a nerd, flabby and skinny. And that was fine with me.

That part about being skinny-fat, earlier? That was a lie. In the last few years, I clung to that illusion as my body went from skinny-fat to fat-fat. This is temporary, I would think. I’m just dealing with a lot of stress right now. Just wait until X happens. When X rolls around, I’ll lose all this weight like THAT! I would snap my fingers, mentally, with a flourish. And then I’d order another brownie sundae online from that café around the corner that does delivery. Because X wasn’t slated to happen for a few more days, as far as I was concerned.

Sometimes, reality brings us things. For me, it came in the form of a cross-country move, a breakup, and chronic unemployment. Granted, none of these things were exactly inflicted upon me—instead, they were all choices I’d made, to some degree or another. I was determined that my move and breakup bring about a fresh start—a New Me, the sort of thing that the Disillusioned envision around December 30th of every year. (Never mind that when January 1 rolls around, we’re all too hungover to begin to contemplate hauling our sorry asses to the gym.) I wish I could say that I turned over a new leaf on that bright morning of Tuesday, February 16th, 2010. Instead, I climbed into bed and stayed there for much of the day—nursing an emotional hangover, if you will.

Point is, I did not become a new person on February 16th. I am still living at home, single, and unemployed. But, I am 20 pounds lighter, and still trending downwards.  Now for that part about me being an impostor. On February 17th, 2010, I climbed aboard my parents’ NordicTrack treadmill, iPhone in hand, Couch to 5K app at the ready. Ten weeks later, I completed the program and could run a 5K in the requisite 30 minutes. Now I’m working on the Bridge to 10K program with the help of this handy app. I’ve battled lactic acid and blisters and I’ve had to start over once due to injury, but I’m still plugging away.

I felt like a faux-runner for a long time. I was just some fat-fat-skinny-fat trying to wheeze her way through 30 minutes of being coached by a disembodied electronic voice. And now (oh Lord, here comes the smarm factor—it’s unavoidable) I’m a plain-old runner.

And to prove my point, I’m going to go get on the treadmill and log another 4-5 miles, completing Week 1, Day 3 of the B210K program.

Follow my running progress on Daily Mile—better yet, join and add me as a friend!

The truth is that keeping a log of every bit of media I consume is a huge honking task. For instance, off the top of my head: today I listened to The Moth podcast, the Tranquility Du Jour podcast, the Savage Love pocast, and the iProcrastinate podcast. I also watched way too many episodes of a certain popular television show which ran for 10 seasons and went off the air in 2004. Furthermore, I caught an interview with Merlin Mann, and watched a few video podcasts of an interview with Jesse Thorn. I also caught up with my RSS feeds. And that’s just what I can remember at the moment.

Maybe it makes more sense for me to do a media consumption log once a week or once a month. It keeps me tuned in to what I’m listening to/watching/reading, but it takes quite a bit of time to track. So, that’s the plan.

I just spent eight minutes on hold waiting to update my address for my health insurance, because the first person I called was unable to do so. At the end of the eight minutes, I was sent to voicemail. This is reminiscent of last year, when I called about my Permanent Fund Dividend, and was disconnected twice after being on hold for ten minutes each. Seriously, why couldn’t I have left a message when I first called? This is a symptom of UI designers not using what they’ve created themselves—granted, a phone menu system being used by the State of Alaska probably didn’t involve a UI designer to begin with.

Oh, and just for the record: The shmaltzy soprano sax song from last year’s State of Alaska bureaucratic phone calls—complete with “your call is important to us”— is still alive and kicking. Does anyone really like Kenny G?

It dawned on me today that the story of Noah’s Ark is pretty terrifying. Think about it—as the story goes, God basically sentenced every living thing on the planet to death by drowning or starvation (except for, of course, two of every species). We only think about the people and animals who were saved from the flood, and not about the billions of living things that died. It’s honestly a pretty adult story, when you imagine the multitude of death. And yet I had several versions of the Noah’s Ark story in picturebook form as a kid.

I’ve always been aware that The Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson stories are pretty rough—in the former, there’s a little girl with a green ribbon around her neck whose head falls off when she unties it; and in the latter the Little Mermaid kills herself. I knew the “real” versions of these stories even when I was little. They were dark, sure, but I knew that up front.

Perhaps that’s why the “real” Noah’s Ark story is so much more disturbing to me—it masquerades as a cute story about animals and forgiveness.

I think Noah’s Ark would make a great disaster movie* (which, of course, would be rated PG-13 or R by the MPAA), à la 10.5 or The Day After Tomorrow or Flood.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUWlmED6m5s]

This post was inspired by listening to RadioLab’s April 7th podcast, In Silence.

*Upon further research, it appears that two live-action films have been made about Noah’s Ark, one in 1928, and the other in 1999. You can watch the latter in its entirety on YouTube.

It’s the strangest rivalry. On one hand, I’m thinking “I’m so much cooler. I saw that yesterday. And I didn’t feel the need to share it.” And on the other hand, I’m all “I SAW THAT FIRST. I SAW IT FIRST I SAW IT FIRST YOU ARE NOT COOLER THAN I AM JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE SHARING THAT BECAUSE I SAW IT FIRST EVEN THOUGH NO ONE KNOWS I SAW IT FIRST DAMMIT I SAW IT FIRST.”

I think this is related to “liking that band before no one had heard of them and they hadn’t sold out.” (Example: I heard Band X this summer on All Songs Considered, and got their album. Cut to Winter Break, someone tweets about Band X and how awesome they are and how everyone should be listening to them. Cut to two weeks later and someone replies to said tweet with “I KNOW I LOVE THEM TOO OMG. And then said band starts showing up as background music in homemade videos and I cover my face in frustration.)

So what’s at the root of all of this? I think I might just still have hints of stuck up “hipster elitism” in me, despite having shed that persona ages ago (BECAUSE NEWSFLASH! I have never been a hipster or a punk or particularly indie I just like the music and it took a while for me to realize this).

So yes, just to be clear (EXAMPLES!): we’ve seen it, your mom’s seen it, the Wall Street Journal has seen it, and now we can let it die already, okay?

(Let’s just chalk this up to my bitch side because I know how stupid I am about this subject and get on with things.)

“So,” said I to myself, “why not keep a log of all the media I (intentionally) ingest each day?” That way, when I hit my umpteenth podcast, I can look back and say “Yeah, the one about crocodiles and rainbows in the 1940s was pretty good, but I liked the one with Sophia Loren better.”

With that in mind, today’s media consumption is as follows, as best as I can recall (with notes):

• The Dick Van Dyke Show – S1E24 “The Twizzle,” and S1E25 “One Angry Man.”
  • I learned that “The Twizzle” was the cast’s least favorite episode of the season via IMDB, and I can see why—it was my least favorite before I even looked it up.
• Belle & Sebastian – “If You’re Feeling Sinister” (1996).
  • This is my favorite album from one of my favorite groups. Also, major points for nostalgia.
• The Sound of Young America – “The Ten-Cent Plague” (5/2/08), “Kirby: King of Comics” (5/8/08), “Mike Birbiglia” (5/16/08), and “Nellie McKay” (5/20/08).
  • “The Ten-Cent Plague” and “Kirby: King of Comics” both discussed crime and romance comics that were popular circa WWII—genres that no longer really exist.
  • Mike Birbiglia is a comic, and author of the show “Sleepwalk with Me,” which I really want to see when I’m in New York this May.
  • Nellie McKay is a quirky, fun musician, who keeps popping up in my podcasts and blogs (and last year in my city)—and I might just have to sit down and listen to some of her music on my own, one of these days.
• “Internet Power!” Vol. 1 (1995).
  • This is seriously just too funny and nostalgic and best of all, relevant to my thesis. Hooray.
• Scrubs, S8E5 “My ABCs,” and S8E6 “My Cookie Pants.”
  • Also nostalgic. The show ends this year, I believe.
• “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart – Wednesday, January 28, 2008″

Today’s total: 11 “units” (is there a better word for this?) of media consumed

And on top of that, I taught my mom how to use Skype this morning, all while eating breakfast. How’s that for productivity?

This blog is here for stuff I want to expound upon.

My tumblr is for stuff online I find and love.

My ideabook is for stuff in real life I find and love and write down.

My process book is for stuff I’m actively working on.

The End

Having made two bureaucratic calls today and spending over half and hour on hold so far, I would like to make the following observations:

• The State of Alaska PFD office’s hold music is perhaps the very worst I have ever heard. It is a single schmaltzy soprano sax number, which repeats indefinitely until you are a) helped, or b) automatically disconnected after waiting for 10 minutes. (As you might guess, the latter happened to me today.)
• The IRS’s hold music is slightly less bad, but still fairly horrendous. I am listening to Tchaikovsky’s “The Nutcracker Suite,” and it is nowhere near Christmas. (As I am typing this, the music has just changed to “Bah, bum bah, bum bah bum bah ba baaaa!” which I am having a hell of a time placing. Update: It is Mozart’s “Eine kleine Nachtmusik” (thanks, SongTapper). Oh, and now we’re back to “The Nutcracker!” Sweet Jesus. And a recorded message keeps breaking in every 30 seconds to reassure me that their representatives are helping other people, and I should keep holding (currently at 22 minutes on this call).

That is all.

Ever since learning of the Typo Eradication Advancement League‘s spot of legal trouble (yesterday, I guess—how time flies), I’ve been mulling over the situation.

I don’t think that correcting the grammar in any sign, government property or otherwise, is worthy of a year’s probation, a $3,035 fine, and a year-long ban from all national parks.

I hate to tell the government to lighten up, but that’s how I feel about the matter. As far as I’m aware, the “repairs” being made to the sign which was “defaced” will restore it to its prior, incorrect punctuation (and the egregious [or archaic, depending on whom you ask] spelling of “emense” [sic] will surely remain). I am fairly certain that it would take very little effort to correct the sign in a manner which would match its original appearance—it is not the sign’s grammar which makes it historic.

Let me state that I do believe that TEAL went a little too far on this one, and I think Jeff would agree. A quote from 5/24/08 on the TEAL blog clarifies:

Could I get in trouble if I fixed the mistake on my own? If you’re smart about it, you’ll be okay. Again, having a buddy along is helpful, for running interference or keeping watch while you work. Make it look as pretty/consistent as you can. You should only really correct something without asking if there’s no one around to ask or you can predict that the response would be tepid. I would recommend staying away from state- or federal-owned property, though… trust me on this one. (Emphasis added.)

I am not suggesting that anyone ought to be able to doodle all over government signage, but that Jeff + Ben should have received a (metaphorical) slap on the wrist for such a small offense. They were not acting with any malice, but instead with the overall intent to enlighten the American population and promote proper grammar and spelling. 

Just as excellence begets excellence, errors beget further errors. Reinforcing incorrect language patterns is of no use to anyone. 

Writing a letter to the management about the errors would have been the best line of action, I think—though I doubt anyone would have bothered to listen.

I sincerely hope that TEAL will return to its faithful supporters, when legally allowed to. The world is sorely in need of a good editor. I’ll be waiting.

I also have to say how much I love my journal from Chameleon Books. It’s refillable, so I forsee having it for a long time to come. And the color I have (aqua green with orange accents) is fantastic.

I’ll post re: my favorite pens in the future, when I’m not procrastinating (slightly).

I have been consuming way too much media, lately. It’s just so hot, I don’t really want to move. (I mean, it’s 82 degrees F and 1:33PM. Seriously? We have an expected high today of 99.) And I got a little tired of the Olympics after about day 4.

This is my first academic break with hulu available to me. It’s deadly, let me tell you. It’s remarkable how much content it has available that’s not crap. I mean, the complete Arrested Development? They had me from the start.

This summer, I have watched the following shows:

• The Riches (hulu)
• Mad Men (Netflix)
• Dexter (Netflix instant)
• The Daily Show (TV+hulu)
• The Mary Tyler Moore Show (hulu)
• I Dream of Jeannie (hulu)
• Lipstick Jungle (hulu)

I am going to defend Mary Tyler Moore and Jeannie by saying that they’re valuable cultural knowledge, and as for Lipstick Jungle, well, I had a weak moment. The show honestly kind of blows.

I’ve read some this summer, too. I’ll validate myself by writing about it.

I am a writer who likes thinking in the planning space. I like ideas. Call me a creative strategist.

I am enamored of my iPhone (first generation, 8 GB).

I spend far too much time on my sofa with my MacBook.

You can find me on (in no particular order)

• facebook
• twitter
• youtube
• livejournal
• delicious
• last.fm
• flickr
• wordie.org
• tumblr
• pandora
• my website

I also use NetNewsWire from NewsGator to keep up with my RSS feeds.

I will put links to myself in this post, to make it useful.