Promiscuous Women and Some Harry Potter Insight

*****WARNING:***** 

This blog post is going to contain a lot of Harry Potter nerdiness. But it's already April 12th and I haven't written that much about Harry and that shows a LOT of restraint. So bear with me.

Lately Harry Potter (HP) has been the word around the house. There was a day many months ago when not a day would go by and before we had some sort of HP discussion. Even though the HP noise has died down, there's still the odd debate on which house is the coolest (the correct answer being Ravenclaw, even though it has the "snobby" stereotype--Rowling is completely biased!) and Maddy (my sister, if there are any of you reading who are not in the know) has recently broke out the Philosopher's Stone and is re-reading. 

After she finished of the first book we watched the movie and then she started on the second. That was on Friday. By the next day Maddy had finished the Chamber of Secrets and we got the treat of watching the movie together last night, all four of us sisters. 

Now living a house that knows Harry Potter backwards and forwards can be quite frustrating at times. We got Harry Potter Scene It a few years back for Christmas and we couldn't play with anyone else because we were so insufferably knowledgeable and competitive. We'd scream out answers before the question was finished and it was just aggravating. Buckets of fun, but still.

So when we popped in the second movie and all sat down on the couch, it's only natural that there would be some commentary that might irritate some viewers. But we thoroughly enjoyed criticizing and commentating the movie. 

Here are some of our notes of last night:

• Gilderoy Lockhart is a boob.
• You know in the dueling club when it flashes to the faces of the onlookers? There's this shot of Seamus Finnigan where he's totally thinking, "Yes! We're finally gonna see some ass whopping at Hogwarts!"
• Lockhart will sacrifice his right buttock so that the students can be schooled on the art of dueling. (see above note on Lockhart)
• Conversation between Lockhart and Dumbledore requesting permission for the club:

Dumbledore: Oh hello, Gilderoy. What's happening on the flip flop?

Lockhart: I was wondering if I could start a little dueling club with the students. You know, teach 'em how to fight off crumple horned snorcacks and such. I think I'm more than qualified for the job.

Dumbledore: *preoccupied* Sure whatever you say, my friend.

Lockhart: *leaves* (in corridor) YES! Oh man, this is going to be SO cool!

• Hogwarts makes your eyebrows go insane. (examples of people who's eyebrows are being possessed by evil forces: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Draco Malfoy, Seamus Finnigan, etc., etc.)

And now I will share with you a few theories that have never before been released to the public:

Bellatrix Lestrange is the mistress of Voldy. Face it, she's totally promiscuous in a weird, gothic sort of fashion. She's a total sadist which makes her appealing to Voldemort. That devotion she has to him, is totally more than loyal servant. You know I'm right. Rachel agrees with my on this. 

Another question to ponder:

How does anyone know what Voldy's name is anymore? I mean, if the parents, who originally knew his name, didn't disclose the information to their children, how do the children know? They don't even write his name in books. Harry could be brave and start saying his name and the rest of the students of Hogwarts would be like: what gibberish is he going on about now?

One more note:

In Harry Potter 1 (and possibly 2) Hermione was insufferable. I know she's really intelligent and wanted to prove herself as a witch but she was the kind of know-it-all that would annoy me. She kind of outgrew that but she was really irritating.

Now I'm going to answer a few (relatively) short HP related questions... and that will be all.

House? My house is Ravenclaw, even though I don't necessarily agree with with the main idea "wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure". Because man's greatest treasure is something a lot cooler than wit. Not sure exactly what is. But I'm figuring it out. 

The house thing is, of course, part of a great debate. Because Harry is in Gryffindor it seems that that house is usually set above the rest. It always receives the most attention and ever since Harry came to Hogwarts has won the house cup. There's a stereotype for all the houses. Slytherins are just evil or ambitious; Hufflepuffs are loyal and good friends (or stupid--it even says in one of the sorting songs that Helga Hufflepuff says she'd take the rest that were leftover when everyone else chose their picks); and Ravenclaws are smart and snobby. What's the negative quality of your average Gryffindor, one has to ask.

Bogart? Not sure what I'm most afraid of. There's ants, but that seems kind of silly. And I'm not a huge fan of the dark, but I'm more scared of what's in the dark.... I'm have to think about this.
Harry or Ron? Both have their faults. I always thought Ron was a bit of a rude pig head wanker, especially with her behavior towards Hermione in book 3 and towards Harry in book 4. Harry has faults as well of course, but overall I think I choose... Cedric. I know he died but he'd be my choice.
Which Quiditch position? I fancy the position of Seeker, but I'm not entirely sure. Not the Keeper, or the Chasers (too much pressure), but then again the Seeker has a lot of pressure too. I guess a Beater then... :)
Pet? I would have a cat. Or rather whatever Crookskanks is. I don't remember the name... a kneazle! Yeah one of them.

As you can see, I really like talking (or writing) about Harry Potter. Hopefully it wasn't too boring for you. You might notice that this has been my longest post so far (I'm pretty sure). What does that say about me?

Conditions Should Not Apply to Free-ness

I feel like inventing a new word today. The reason for this is that people seem to be misunderstanding the concept of the word "free". To me, when something is advertised as free, it should mean that it is given to you, if you ask for it, with no other complications. I took the liberty of looking up 'free' on dictionary.com and went through countless (and exhausting)

entries until I found this:

    

Main Entry:	free
Part of Speech:	adjective
Definition:	Costing nothing; without charge.

 See where it says "costing nothing"? Yeah, that's my definition of free. Note: this does not relate to the other free (liberated, unrestrained personally/politically--this is just the "costing nothing" free). The idea of buy one get one free and other sales techniques with all their "some exceptions apply" and "see in store for details" is just befuddling and misleading.

It's like if you got a letter that said:

Come in to our store and get a FREE apple, after you buy another apple of equal or greater value. This promotion only applies to the bruised apples that no one wants to buy anyway. See in store for more details.

And they use that tiny font that strains your eyes to read, just so when you come into the store you'll feel obligated to buy the stupid, bruised apple just because you already come all the way to get it.

Advertisers are relentless and low. When did we get to this? Conning people into buying your bruised apples? How did we get to this level?

Back to my invented word. I'm thinking 'eerf' because it is 'free' backwards. Here Is my dictionary.com entry for eerf:

Main Entry:	eerf
Part of Speech:	adjective
Definition:	Item that will be given to you for no charge if you submit to conditions stated in minuscule print at the very bottom. (other stipulations apply, please see in store for details--what store you may ask: sorry but that's not in our contract to disclose)

Does this seem fitting? 

Another list perhaps? Is anyone getting tired of the lists yet? If so, too bad. Was that a bit immature? Yes, we've descended to that level.

**This is where I was going to write my list about my OCD tendencies, but then I had another idea which you will soon be reading below and it turned out to be quite the idea and so I decided I will save this list for another post. Something to look forward to.

A few days ago I was asked if it bothered or embarrassed me when my mom talking to other people about my blog. Let me rephrase: ...when my mom raved to other people about my blog. My answer at the time was no, but I'm wondering to myself if perhaps it has changed. It doesn't embarrass me, so to speak, the whole point of writing a blog is so people will read it. It's like a plea for attention (not a very good one...). But it's also kind of personal. What I'm writing down is what's in my brain. Most blogs are very public (being on the Internet, of course, and thus accessible to anyone with an Internet connection), but there's also something private about them. It's weird knowing that not only are random strangers caring enough to read what I'm thinking but also, the people I know. Who I spend time with and know me. It's hard to write a blog when you don't want to be giving too many details (so people who already know you aren't bored of you) and giving enough (so people who don't know you can follow along). I don't' even know how I feel about strangers reading this blog. Maybe I'm being a bit self absorbed to think that anyone actually has any interest.

So maybe I am a little weird about it. You have to admit, as another point, that hearing other people brag about you can sometimes feel awkward. Maybe it's a self esteem issue and I should just accept it, but you have to admit, it still feels strange to have people talking about something that you wrote. Another thing is that once you've told people about your blog, you know that someone might actually be reading it and that in itself is scary. It adds a sort of pressure to entertain.

I was looking on the mj Ning, where other BEDA people can post their blogs in one common place, and I noticed that today there has been a theme of topics. A lot of people are writing about how they are tapped out of blog topics. It seems like today is the day that most people are having trouble with, and I admit, I felt the same way when I woke up. What am I going to write about? Ahhh! But I persevered and came up with this lengthy post on blogging awkwardness and fake freeness (or eerf). Go Alex!

We're 1/3 (and a day) through April and thus BEDA. Oh, and I'm turning 15 in 29 days. Another yay.

One more thing. Last thing I promise. You can even look ahead and see... I will be adding some pictures to a previous blog post where I listed some things on my wall. I'm going to take some pictures so you can see what I mean by random memorabilia that has no other place in the world. Check that out. The post is called What's In A Label For A Noun so you can find it in the archive over there <--- if you so desire.

The Art of Bowling

**How I yearn for some Peeps right now. Maybe it's just that it's Easter or maybe a human body needs a certain amount of sugar covered, artificially coloured, artificially everything, marshmallows to survive.** 

Today I have many ripe ideas to write about. It's increasingly odd how one day the tree of ideas can seem so barren and then the next it's ripe for the pickin'.

I have this weird arrangement in my brain about bowling balls. You know how at bowling allies they have those little mini lanes that shoot the balls back up? Then they come into the line up and smack each other. Whenever I'm bowling I feel like I need to separate them and soften the blows. 

When it comes to choosing one to roll down the lane, I always pick the one at the back, because I figure the one that just came out of the mini lane, just had a turn. 

That's probably another inanimate object I could have ranted for. They take so much abuse those bowling balls. The bowling pins, as well. 

In case you haven't guessed (or you were there with me last night :), I went bowling. My Pathfinder unit went with the six Rangers and we were divided into "teams" who were given a Ranger for a leader.

Now as some people might remember from last night I was debating to anyone who would listen (can one person debate? I only had one side, though) that it wasn't cool that the Rangers had been assigned as our team leaders. What qualifications do they have to lead our teams? Are they super bowlers? (I will answer that: no, the are just regular bowlers) We, the Pathfinders, are just as good bowlers as them. And since when has age had anything to do with anything? In our society it has everything to do with everything, but just because the Rangers are older, doesn't mean they should be our "leaders". What happened to democracy? I appreciate that it's supposed to be a bridging event and we wanted the Rangers to be separated so we could "bond" or whatever, but could they not just have been an addition to our team, as opposed to giving them this "leader" title and therefore some sort of superiority?

Anyway, in case you were wondering, my team had the highest collective score (who am I kidding, I wasn't even wondering, but there it is anyway).

Going with my theme of lists to fill up space here is how we bowled one of our games...

Fun Bowling

1. Bowl normally

2. Bowl with your opposite hand (I got a half strike at this turn, because I hit them all down at once on my second turn) 

3. Bowl holding hands with someone

4. Bowl normally

5. Bowl with two hands

6. Bowl backwards between your legs

7. Bowl sitting crossed legged on the floor (not the ceiling or anything it must be the floor)

8. Bowl lying down on your tummy (where does the word 'tummy' come from? stomach, tommy?)

9. Bowl standing on one foot

10. Bowl normally

My favourite was the lying down one. The thing about Fun Bowling is that you don't get the highest score, and it's kind of difficult (even with that left handed half strike of mine-woot woot) but it's really fun to watch. If I saw a group of people doing that in a bowling alley (holding hands, lying down, turning around and bowling through their legs) I would probably think they were all being hazed or something. 

I was thinking about whether bowling can be considered a sport. I was leaning towards the negative, because it's more of a social activity if you think about it. For the two[ish] hours we were there, what percent of that was actually spent bowling? It's mostly about cheering people on (us Hopping Bunnies were especially big on the cheering; and yes we named ourselves that) and talking.

Then afterwards there was MORE socializing when we went out and ate food. It was really just a big night of hanging out. My cheesecake was okay. Nothing to really write about but here I am anyway.

That is about all I have to say one bowling. Another thing that intrigues me (that I do not have the time or patience to write about) would be the history of bowling. How did it start? Who played? Fred Flinstone? (is it Flintstone?) 

(I just had another topic idea that I will share with you, tomorrow) Until then...

Alluring Acronyms

A shortish book review of The Book Thief:

Well I just finished reading The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak and I have to say it was pretty spellbinding. Any book about a young girl living in Nazi Germany is going to be pretty gripping, but this book had another twist. It was narrated by Death. The style of the book was a little hard to comprehend in the beginning but eventually the reader catches on to the flow as it wraps itself around, Liesel, a ten-year-old, German girl. The characters, especially Liesel and her best friend Rudy, were compelling and delightfully rounded.

Death, as a narrator gave the book a theme of chance. Liesel's foster father escaped Death twice by pure chance and the book really showed how much death can just be at random, unintentional and unforeseen.

By the end of the book Liesel was fourteen and she had seen many things. The childish spin on the book gave the reader a new perspective on World War II. Her parents hiding a Jew in their basement gave the story the unspoken theme of an extremely difficult situation and how people cope with doing what they think is right, while the whole world is frowning against them. (run on theme  :)

I would definitely suggest this book to others; it's definitely worth reading. ( I seem to like the word definitely when writing reviews)

I award Five Stars. (that's right, I capitalized)

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

Now that that's out of the way, I have to come up with an actual topic. Hmm, haw.... okay well while I am procrastinating actually coming up with something I'll make a list! 

9 Ways to Procrastinate

1. Make lists

2. Organize your underwear drawer

3. Rearrange your furniture

4. Check your email

5. Clean out your inbox, delete unnecessary emails

6. Make sure all the clocks in your house show the exact same time

7. Clean out your gerbils cage

8. Read blogs

9. Write blogs

Befriend your Inner Procrastinator. They are always there for you. (props go to: http://maureenjohnson.ning.com/profiles/blogs/25-ways-to-get-to-know-your)

Here we are again. Back at the beginning. **taps fingers on keyboard**

It's strange that I'm sitting here waiting for an idea to be cranked out of my fingertips. I'm usually opposed to forced creativity. Forced short stories, poetry, forced art. It just isn't right. If you feel like painting, pick up a paintbrush. If you have an idea for a story, write it down. But the method where you sit down at a desk and someone says 'here's a topic, get inspired', just doesn't work. 

Then there's time limits and deadlines. I was in this essay writing class and the instructor put a gold jug/vase in front of us and said to write poetry about it (in a essay class, you ask?), which totally defeats the purpose of poetry. A poet is supposed to feel something about something and then write about it. It doesn't work so well the other way around. At least not for me. Maybe some people can do the whole, here's an idea, write a story, but I simply can't. 

Technically, I can. I mean, I have in the past. But I believe my best work always comes from spontaneity (where's your spontaneity, Bill??!).

Okay maybe now I'll do some forced acronymming. How about APRIL?

All Pears Really Irate Learners. (doesn't really work...) 

Any Perilous Risk-takers In Lululemon? (a bit better) 

Always Pickle Right In Lemon-juice (yes I hypenated)

Apparently Pens Really Irritate Ligers (lion+tiger, in case you didn't know)

Well on the note of ligers I think I will leave you. .:dftbA:. (don't forget to be awesome/don't forget to blog [in] April) --btw I hope you watched the Anglerfish song, see below. **Genius! Genius!!!**

Inanimate Ranting

So I'm trying something new today. Ranting. Well the ranting parts not new, I've done that a few times on this blog but today I will be taking a new perspective on things. 

(got this idea on the mj Ning)

The Book's Rant

Why do you disrespect me so. I feel so used. ALL THE TIME. I mean first I sit on a shelf. At the bookstore, library or sometimes I don't even get a shelf I get a claustriphobic box before being shipped off to some random Amazon customer in Milwaukee. And from the shelf you pick me up, read my back, manhandle me and then decide I'm not good enough for you and replace me on the shelf or, lucky me, I get to go home with you.

You people do not understand the word respect. I am giving you a service and you dog-ear my pages, spill coffee on me, and leave me lying wide open on whatever surface (no matter how dirty) is available. God forbid it be your bathing day or I get the wonderous pleasure of taking a trip into your bathtub. Sometimes I get dropped. But I'll tell you it is not good for my nerves to be held above water by an unpredictably unreliable pair of hands.

All I want is some appreciation. A little consideration and courtesy. I am letting you read me, the least you can do is take care of me. The most you can do is buy me a latte.

Confessions of An Alarm Clock

I don't understand why you take out your frustration on me? You're the one who set the damn alarm for so early in the morning. Did I tell you to get up at that un-Godly hour? No, the answer is no. It was your stupid decision and yet I am the first thing you reach your hand over to whack bright and early. All I want is some love. I do make sure you wake up on time every single day you ask the least you could do is treat me with tenderness. I know I make annoying buzzing noises but it's only because I was never taught anything else. It's the only way to wake people up that I know. Do you smack you little sister across the face when she wakes you up at 6am on Christmas morning? Don't answer that, but if the answer is not no, please think about enrolling in some anger management courses. 

The Story of A Coat Rack

I am a coat rack. This is my story. One day while sitting in a box, on a shelf, in IKEA, someone came along and picked me up. It was a couple who were arguing about whether they should go ask for assisstance, or just take me off the shelf themselves. They woman did not want the man to hurt himself. **Note: I am not THAT heavy.** But he slid me off the shelf easily enough and transferred me to their rolling flatbed thing. I rolled around with them for a while and a few more items were placed on with me and then we headed to the checkout. I was paid for, $39.99. We left the only home I had ever really known and I was set in a vehicle before being unloaded at what I assumed to be our final destination. I sat in the entrance hall for a week. Apparently by purchasers were either very lazy, or very busy. Eventually the woman took me out of my box and started to assemble my pieces. I stood for the first time. Then the neglect started. 

A hat, coat and purse were thrown onto my arms and then she left. That first night was the hardest. I was all alone, and it felt like a long time because light came and my new family stumbled down the stairs. On the way out the door, the couple payed no attention to me other than to grab their things from me and turn away. Out the door they went, and I started to wonder if this would be the rest of my life. 

Eventually I made a friend. One day, months after my arrival, they came back with a slender box that they opened to find some sort of reflective substance. They hung it on the wall opposite me and from that day on I could always see my friend on the other side of the mirror, always there for me. From then on I was a happy coatrack and I didn't mind being used to much. The end.

I know, I know.  I just wrote the sad story of a coatrack. Embrace it. 

A Song About An Anglerfish (it will change your life)

The Great Dish Dilemma

From yesterdays exploration of names I decided that today I was going to write about words. So I'm going to try and come up with some lists of interest, which may or may not work out... Without further ado.

Words That Have Different Meanings In Other Languages

• Japanese: 'mansion' means 'apartment' (very environmentally conscious of them)
• German: 'hell' means 'light'; (that Germans sure have an interesting perspective on life :)
• Malay: 'cat' means 'paint' (alluring translation. does that mean it would acceptable to have a pet can of paint, or is that stretching it?)
• English: 'pants' mean 'underwear'; 'fit' means 'hot' -not the opposite of cold, the other hot- (I might write more about awesome English translations in a future post)
• Swedish: 'fart' means 'speed'; 'slug' means 'smart'; 'gift' means poison OR unmarried (is this some sort of sick stereotype of single people? Note to self: don't go to Sweden unmarried)

Another Wikipeida page excerpt:

A word is a unit of language that represents a concept which can be expressively communicated with meaning. A word consists of one or more morphemes which are linked more or less tightly together, and has a phonetic value.

Some word quotes:

• “The right word may be effective, but no word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause.” - Mark Twain
  
• “When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain” - William Shakespeare
  
• “Words should be used as tools of communication and not as a substitute for action” -??
  
• “I do not agree with a word that you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it” -Voltaire
  

And then the Internet service wanted me to pay for more... from my research there seems to be a common thought that words mean little when compared to the action that follows. Or doesn't follow. Apparently words are not a substitute for action, only a placeholder.

Oh my beloved placeholders. Interesting, fine, whatever, I don't care. Holding the place of your real feelings before they have a chance to burst out of you at random intervals whether at the newspaper carrier who dared to cut across your beautiful lawn or you good friend whose last remark was the breaking point of a carefully planned facade.

There I go again, off on my anger management rants. Read Just Listen by Sarah Dessen to fully understand.

Sometimes it'll wash over you in this weird wavelike sensation, the power of words. Where did they come from? How did they start? How do we learn? It's so fascinating. Or boring. It's fascinating to me but it's just now occurring to me that this may be a dull blog entry for you readers. I'm going to go grab my journal and see if there's anything in there relating to this topic that I can copy....

Okay this does not relate to words but I liked reading it so hopefully you will to. This is an excerpt from my Wreck This Journal which may some day be part of an autobiography. Consider that you are reading a preview for an amazing book:

You know that dish smell? The one you can never get off your hands when you finish washing dishes. I've taken to wearing rubber gloves but then you still get that rubber  glove smell on your hands. I'm not sure which I dislike most. When dishes start to pile up it gets harder and harder to keep up. You can either wash the dishes that have been there for two weeks and are growing mold, therefore smell excruciatingly bad or you can wash the freshly dirty dishes therefore saving them from becoming their horrifying friends in two weeks. But then your old dishes just get worse, intensifying your problem. You rarely have the time or patience to wash ALL the dishes or there would be no dishes in the first place. What are you to do? (question for comments: what would you do? wash the fresh or the smelly old)

This charming page is illustrated with a lovely picture of a stick person (me) standing beside a sink with rubber gloves on with my hands up in the air. Dishes are stacked up and a there is a frenzied look on my face. It's quite the dilemma.

There you have it. A look into the future (when it's inevitably published as a novel) and the past, when I wrote it about a year ago.

I'm sorry to say that other than these flashes of the past my journal is getting very little traffic these days. Other than to write down ideas to blog about (which in case you haven't guess are a bit dry at the moment) I have no time to write in it. This blog is simply sucking up all my creative writing juices. I'll try to make it up to my dear friend at the end of April when I'll be so used to writing every day it will be quite the transition to pick up a pen instead of my laptop. 

End blog. .:dftbA:. (note: I acknoweledge and embrace the typos in here for they are as much a part of me as my gorgeous belly button. typos for the win!)