My interest in “cute guys” is usually piqued in one of the following ways:
Scenario 1:
*Sees Wikipedia article and black and white photo about some inventor/scientist from the 19th century. Said inventor/scientist is usually wearing a three piece suit and top hat.*
Pike: Guhhh *adds to “must date when my time machine is invented” list*
Scenario 2:
Any hot guy in a waistcoat.
Pike: @_@
Scenario 3:
At work.
Pike: “OMG, I’m so tired of people coming and asking me stupid questions about the crickets. NO IT’S NOT ICE, IT’S A GEL WATER. GET IT RIGHT.”
Random Cute Guy With Australian Accent: “Hi, I’m a random cute guy with an Australian accent. I’m going to ask stupid questions about the crickets now.”
Pike: “Okay ^___^”
Scenario 4:
Pike: “Hmm, that guy is okay I guess. I mean, he’s kinda… OMG IS HE WEARING AN OMEGA SEAMASTER? I’M PRETTY SURE HE’S WEARING AN OMEGA SEAMASTER. HOLYSHIZ. COME OVER HERE SO I CAN DROOL ON YOUR WRIST AND WE CAN DISCUSS HOROLOGY LONG INTO THE NIGHT. … … … I mean uh, cute butt.”
So through a very long and convoluted series of events which I shall not recount here, it appears that I am moving again. This time I’m not just moving across town, though. I’m actually returning to my birthplace and moving to:
Specifically the whole island part in the middle of Puget Sound there.
What’s really funny is that I was actually born there so it’s a homecoming more than anything, but I moved away when I was like, 1, so I don’t remember anything. I do remember snatches of the Seattle area, where I lived for a few years after, but even those memories are sketchy. So instead my paranoid brain last night came up with a list of things that scare me about this impending move:
1.) Slugs. They don’t have those here in Podunk Montana. I was looking forward to never seeing one again, but…
2.) Trees. According to my allergist I am allergic to “All trees, all molds, all grasses, and all weeds”. Actually as I type this I have a kleenex stuck up my nose. My solution is clearly to move to the Evergreen State, apparently.
3.) Being at sea level, which freaks me out for some reason, possibly because I’m used to being a mile high and surrounded my mountains. Did I mention that deep water terrifies me?
4.) Traffic/highways etc. I love driving. I do not love billions of cars. Tailgaters scare the daylights out of me. “Rush Hour” here in Montana means I’ll be waiting an extra twenty seconds at the stop light and I might be a few minutes late. I don’t wanna think about how it will be when I’m like an hour from Seattle, especially since commutes and such seem to be likely.
5.) Nobody knowing how to drive in the snow, and me not knowing how to drive in anything BUT snow. Actually I have no idea if that’s true or not, it’s just my guess. When I took Driver’s Ed, there were raging snowstorms going on, the roads were a solid sheet of ice, and I was constantly swerving to avoid hitting deer. I am the master at that sort of thing, but unfortunately they don’t teach us rednecks how to survive in the city. I still don’t know how to parallel park.
But! I am making myself think of the positives, such as:
– More job opportunities
– SteamCon
– More school opportunities
– SteamCon
– Being closer to a ton of friends/family
– SteamCon
– Actually being close to a real city with real stuff
– SteamCon
…who me, one-track mind? *innocent*
Anyways this whole thing is apparently happening next month or something, so this will be exciting.
I went to the fair yesterday and went on a few rides. Here is my objective analysis:
Exhibit A: Tilt-a-Whirl Concept: You spin around in a circle basically at random (seriously, read the bit on chaos theory) while spinning around in an even bigger circle. Meanwhile gravity plasters you to the wall. It’s loads more fun than it sounds. Verdict: This is my all time favorite ride. I go on it every year and it never gets old. So obviously it was my first stop this time around, before it was on to bigger and better things! Grade: A+ !
Exhibit B: Star Trooper Concept: You fly around in the air, first forward, and then backward. Or the other way around, depending on which side of the seat you’re sitting on. You also go up and down and stuff. Verdict: Going forward is tons more fun than going backward. The Going Backward experience on this ride basically just consists of not being able to move, breathe, or talk, because you’re stuck to the seat. It was an okay ride I guess. Grade: B
Exhibit C: Pharaoh’s Fury Concept: Giant swinging ship that sticks you at a 90 degree angle at its zenith. Verdict: I had a bad feeling about this one and initially I refused to try it, but then I was talked into it with various arguments like “It doesn’t look that bad”.
Big mistake.
Now, before I start on this one, I need to clarify that I am not afraid of heights. I’m that person in most other rides who twists around in the seat to stare at the ground, usually much to the chagrin of my ride partner when this causes us to bounce all over the place. But this is different. This ride is gravity hating you. Do you know what it feels like when gravity hates you? It’s an interesting feeling that can best be described as feeling like you are about two seconds away from floating out of your chair and over the safety bar and plummeting to your death below, but the boat thing swings the other way riiiiight before you do. If you want to experience this feeling for yourself, my advice to you is: DON’T. I spent the bulk of this ride with my eyes shut, praying to every potential deity I could think of for the whole thing to end.
I should note, though, that the guy behind me was completely smashed and sounded like he was having the best minute and a half of his entire life, so Beer Goggles may make this ride slightly more bearable. Your mileage may vary.
Grade: F for FREAKING TERRIFYING AND I AM NEVER RIDING THIS THING AGAIN.
Exhibit D: Spider Concept: Tilt-a-Whirl, except in the air, basically. Verdict: This ride works by lulling you into a false sense of security and then pouncing upon the unsuspecting victim that you become. It starts out tame enough, it’s a nice spinning ride and you think “Oh this is actually kind of relaxing”… and then you hear It. “It” is a comforting noise that sounds something like creeeeeeeeeak CACHUNK CACHUNK CACHUNK creeeeeeeek, and by comforting I mean terrifying. This noise is accompanied by whiplash inducing spins and both of these things combined quickly send you into WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE territory. Then, just as quick as it arrived, it’s over, and you’re back to thinking this is a nice relaxing ride.
Just beware the CACHUNK CACHUNK CACHUNK.
Grade: Pretty good overall, even if the ride itself is in dire need of some WD-40. B+
I also went on the Ferris Wheel and the Carousel. The Ferris Wheel involves standing in line for 45 minutes to get to a ride that lasts about 5 (4 of which are spent loading and unloading the cars), and the Carousel involves me complaining that the stirrups are set to a rather inconvenient length, because I’m a nerd like that.
Sadly that was all I had time to experience. People were trying to talk me into the Zipper, but, um, no.
I would not ride this for any less than $10,000. Just so we’re all clear.
The great thing about liking Lady Gaga’s music is that regardless of peoples’ opinion on her I have an awesome excuse to listen to her. If the person I am talking to thinks she is brilliant, I can nod my head and agree, and if the person I am talking to thinks she is terrible and most awful thing ever to happen to the world, then I can remind them that my musical taste is absolutely horrible and that I’m that person who listened to Dragostea din Tei on repeat for about a month. Win/win situation!
Haha, ok, pocket watches. My taste has changed over time, perhaps like it would for a fine wine or something. I used to just want the pretty ones, now I want the vintage ones. My idea of beauty in a watch has shifted from physical beauty to the beauty of design and a mechanical device being able to run for over a hundred years. That said, if you can find one that is beautiful in both ways, please let me know. (So I can cry, because I obviously won’t be able to afford it.)
Blogging about cake inevitably turns into blogging about Portal. My sister’s birthday was a couple weeks back and she got a plushie companion cube. I was jealous.
Her cake also looked like the one from Portal. It was kind of a Win Birthday all around.
It doesn’t even taste like spaghetti. Which is possibly why I like it, because I was never the world’s biggest spaghetti fan.
Horrible musical taste, and horrible food taste. I’m on a roll!
@softthistle: “i want you to tell us just how AWESOME you are!”
This is hard, because I have terrible self esteem. Even when things happen that seem to imply that I might be a slightly interesting human being, I counter it with my brand of logic. When I was a little kid, I mean really little (like five or six) I went through this battery of tests and it got me into a school for “gifted kids”. I never quite understood why. I have a distinct memory of telling my parents a few years later that I had no idea why I was going to school with all these smart kids, because “all I can do is read.”
That same sense of uneasiness haunts me today. I’m probably an above average writer, but you know what, SO IS EVERYONE ELSE ON THE INTERNET, at least in my friends’ circle. That’s why they’re blogging. Since I am merely doing something that everyone else can do, it negates any sort of specialness and makes me a pretty average person. So, there you go.
@kerrsplat: “Tesla coil inside a Faraday cage turned into a pocketwatch! Go!”
You guys know me all too well. <3
I wonder if it would even work, though. Well, there's only one way to find out >.>
I had to google this. I guess the players are revolting or something? (…”revolting” as in the verb, not the adjective.) Well that’s just silly, becauZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
I’m pretty sure I need this in my life, post haste.
@Rilgon: “Ayamiss and how awesome of a wasp she is.”
Rilgon’s wasp is big, orange, huggable, and awesome. It’s also no longer tame-able in game. Apparently Blizzard doesn’t want you to tame something that shares a model with a raid boss. Which is really too bad, because I would like to tame the following creatures please: Shade of Aran, Curator, Nightbane, Void Reaver, XT-002, and Heigan the Unclean.
A Curator mount is fine too.
@scouris: “the current political situation in Cambodia”
I had to wikipedia this. Turns out they have a king, a prime minister, a parliament, political parties, et al. I couldn’t find anything particularly exciting here but maybe I was just looking in the wrong place.
Back in the day, though, they totally had cool wars and stuff.
@Slash2Rustee: “Thoughts and Reflections on Whats eating Gilbert Grape the movie.”
I actually had to watch this movie in tenth grade. I remember all of two things about it: Somehow it tied in with “Of Mice and Men”, and Leonardo diCaprio was in it.
…okay, just wikipedia’d it. Apparently Johnny Depp was in it too? Shows you how much I know about movies. *sobs*
@lufitoom: “Being naked and eating cheetos while playing WoW.”
Man, that would make such a mess! Orange dust would be everywhere. On your keyboard, on your mouse, on you… not sure I wanna try it.
@faeldray: “‘i want you to tell us just how AWESOME you are!’ – seconded!”
Bah, fine, you’re not going to let me get away without doing this, are you??
Okay, the three awesomest things about me:
1.) I taught myself to read and write before I was three years old.
2.) I got 5’s on the two AP English tests. I didn’t study and I was taking the tests the morning after spending the night in the hospital because I had a bad case of influenza or something. I also hadn’t eaten in probably 24 hours. It was great.
3.) I got a 104% on my Algebra II final. (All questions plus the two extra credit questions correct.)
…I really can’t think of anything else about me that is particularly awesome, sorry >.>
Also let it be known that this is probably the only time I will ever talk about supercool things that I did. *retreats back into humility hole*
I actually saw a really neat video clip this morning about a fashion designer in New York who is making his own nuclear fusion reactor at home in his spare time. He said his reasoning was trying to discover an efficient new energy source. I dunno, maybe it’s just me, but I think that’s an awesome idea. I’m one of those people that misses the days of anyone just up and inventing the Next Big Thing in their garage. The Wright Brothers did it, The Woz did it, but it doesn’t seem to happen very much anymore. Free energy devices? I’m all for it, and I wanna see it invented by some goggles-wearing geek somewhere.
@Nim_Ankh: “write about how awesome an idea [asking twitter for questions] is.”
I’m a pretty big fan of this idea myself. I’ll have to ask Twitter for blogspiration more frequently.
Things I cannot do: Blow bubbles with bubble gum. Every so often I get some bubble gum just so I can try it and see if I’ve stopped failing yet, but it’s all to no avail. I also can’t curl my tongue into a little roll. I heard somewhere that this was actually a genetic issue (which wouldn’t surprise me, since I am basically just a bundle of awkward recessive genes), but then I read something else refuting that, SO I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO BELIEVE ANYMORE.
(As an aside, I swear, 50% of what I learned in high school science classes has since been refuted. Remember back in the day when Biology was simple and you got to do things like play “Evolution: The Board Game”? Don’t get me started on my rant about the poor game design on this, by the way. Because you could only win if you evolved into a human by the end. So if you evolved into a dinosaur halfway through the game you were done, GAME OVER MAN. But at least you get to be a dinosaur, I guess.)
@Doug_Williams: “If you were a hot dog starving in the desert, would you eat yourself?”
See– and forgive me if I end up getting the facts wrong (though I don’t think it is particularly important)– I don’t think she was actually much of a teacher at all. If I recall correctly she was originally involved with theatre; an actress or something. I don’t know why she decided to teach elementary school. But she did.
She was very “different”. She was the definition of “artsy”. She played show tunes on the piano and she was married to a Jackson Pollock-esque abstract artist who was probably almost three times her age.
Not surprisingly, her class was not your typical third grade class. When other kids were doing the Pledge of Allegiance at the beginning of their class day, we were singing songs from the “Annie” musical and reciting poems by Robert Frost. She spent hours a day reading us the works of Roald Dahl. “Storytime” after lunch was only supposed to consist of one chapter but she was so good at doing the voices that we would beg her to read three or four of them at a time, and of course she couldn’t resist.
Let’s see, what else did we do in that class? We wrote haiku. We painted still life paintings. We did creative exercises that involved closing our eyes and imagining that we were mouse-sized elephants that lived in burrows.
One day we sat in a circle and went around and one by one every single kid talked about their religious beliefs or lack there-of, and what we did on a typical Sunday. There was no prejudice, there was no bigotry, no debate, just pure and simple curiosity, understanding, and acceptance. And we were a pretty eclectic and multicultural bunch. To this day I have never seen religion talked about so civilly as it was that day in a classroom full of third graders.
We performed a play of “Where the Wild Things Are”. It was pretty art nouveau. We monsters wore paper sacks over our heads that had been painted by the teacher’s husband so we looked like walking Picasso paintings. We had a jazz number in the middle of the story and lots of crazy abstract props.
Of course this was all too good to last– if I understand correctly we were her first and only third grade class. I don’t know the details, and I was what, 8 years old back then? …so I wasn’t even paying attention, but I caught a whiff of rumor that there was some contention between our teacher and the school board and some of the parents. They said she was too weird, too “out there”; we spent too much time daydreaming and doing art and not enough time doing actual third grade coursework, or something. So she disappeared the next year. I never saw her again. I heard a rumor that she went to teach high school, but I don’t know.
I had a lot of really good teachers growing up, but I find myself wondering about my third grade teacher more than any of them. I wonder what happened to her and what she’s doing now. Wherever she is, I hope she never stopped reading stories or letting kids pretend that they were mouse-sized elephants.
Since I have a lot of crap going on in my life right now, I decided it would be a good time to cheer myself up by visiting a place in my hometown called the “American Computer Museum”. Somehow I’d never actually gone there before, which is sort of shocking when you consider the types of things I saw there:
Old phones!
Old switchboard!
There is no way this thing isn’t a Tricorder.
Replica of the Antikythera mechanism; this looked so much cooler in real life than it does in the picture.
This is a calculator.
And so is this, and I want both of them so I can figure out how they work.
Arithmometer, aka mechanical calculator. Did I mention that I want this also?
Actual letter written by Ada Lovelace, I may have possibly fangirled over this for about ten minutes. (Directly underneath was a first edition copy of Charles Babbage’s autobiography, complete with technical drawings of the difference engine– cue similar fangirling.)
I decided that the time was right to present the most ridiculous picture of me ever taken. This, my friends, is the Pike-o-graph. Eh? Eh?
This watch went to the moon. I now find myself endlessly curious about the effects of low gravity on the movement. *mental note to look into this later*
This thing was full of blinking lights and made clickety-clackety noises if you got close to it. I have decided that I must have one. (You know, like I decided with basically everything else in this museum.)
A room full of computers, including at least a couple Commodore 64s. <3 The big red cabinet in the corner is Computer Space, the first commercially sold video game.
ENIAC…
UNIVAC…
8 megabytes of storage on this baby! Never mind the fact that it’s like twice as big as me. Seriously, you can see my reflection.
There was so much stuff here; it was fantastic. Also I bought a book called “The Victorian Internet”. With a title like that, you just can’t go wrong.
Normally I don’t post on weekends, but this is too awesome to not share.
Two of my friends who I have known forever got married today, because I’m old so that’s what all my friends are doing these days, so of course I went to the wedding and, afterward, the reception. It was the best of those receptions, one of those Super Geeky Types, which meant that the dance music consisted of stuff like the DotA song and Dragostea din Tei, which were promptly met with cheers upon being heard.
Now I don’t know exactly how and when this particular request got started, but at some point our little group of friends was standing around and someone wanted to know if the Safety Dance was on the playlist. Cue sheer panic from the bride and groom… “No, we forgot the Safety Dance”… followed by disappointment from the requestee…
And then, because my friends know me very well, all eyes were on me.
“Pike,” they said, because yes, people call me Pike in real life. “Pike… do you have the Safety Dance?”
Of course I did. It was on a CD in my car.
“Pike. Only you can save the wedding reception.”
So I got the CD. We queued up the song. Then we all did the Safety Dance, complete with the “S” motions with our arms.
“You know,” says the guy next to me halfway during the dance, “This song always reminds me of that boss in WoW.”
Ayup, that’s my friends’ circle for you.
And that is the story of How Pike Saved the Wedding. /deep bow
A few years back I was going through a bit of a personal crisis where I felt like I had screwed up my entire life. I thought I was going to school in the wrong place and for the wrong major and I thought I had picked the wrong job and done a lot of wrong things and I just felt terrible. It wasn’t a particularly happy time in my life, and what’s worse is that this funk went on for weeks.
But you know what finally lifted me out of that phase?
Final Fantasy 6.
I replayed Final Fantasy 6 and so many characters in that game were dealing with the past and by the end pretty much all of them had learned some vital lesson and moved on. I identified with Cyan’s story in particular, and you would not believe the catharsis that was battling the monster that personified his personal demons. After that game something amazing happened. Suddenly I wasn’t feeling too bad about myself anymore. I mean, Locke and the gang had to deal with family members dying and a psychotic clown trying to take over the world. How impossible could my own problems be?
It wasn’t the first time video games had inspired me. I played Zelda: Ocarina of Time during a rough patch in my high school years when I was moving to a new school and I was scared as heck. But look, it’s Link, with the Triforce of Courage. It’s hard to articulate exactly how a pointy-eared kid in a green tunic who never talked became a personal hero to me at the time, but the fact is that he did.
Sometimes the “are video games art?” argument gets tossed around various forums and blogs. I’m probably not the best person to ask regarding the question, since I’m that girl who looks at a well-designed chair and declares it a piece of artwork.
I can say, though, that video games have uplifted me, inspired me, and touched my heart in a variety of ways, and I’m not afraid to admit it.
And, ya know, that sort of legacy is not too shabby for any type of entertainment.
The other day I bought a 12-pack of string cheese, my reasoning being that it would give me a couple weeks’ worth of snacks. Yeah, three days later I’m down to… one, I think? This isn’t counting the string cheese I buy with my lunch every day at work.
I don’t know, they’re just so stringable and munchable and have I mentioned that I love mozzarella? Mozzarella and provolone are my two cheese loves. (Oh wait, did I forget Colby Jack? Let’s throw that in there too.)
2. ALTOIDS
I dunno, I just go through about five of them a day. (Mints, not entire tins. Yeah, I’m not quite that addicted.) As an aside, does anyone else remember when these were The Big Cool Thing in middle school? Or was that just my school being weird?
There are apparently fruit-flavored Altoids, also, which makes me wonder if their slogan is “Curiously Fruity”. Mostly because I crack up just thinking about it.
3.)
P-P-P-POKER FACE
So I was late to the Lady Gaga party but fortunately this has been remedied. Now, a little thing about me: I tend to binge when it comes to music. I’m not one of those “Load up the whole playlist and hit shuffle” people… rather, I get into something (or, frequently, rediscover something) and listen to it until most peoples’ ears would bleed. A couple weeks ago it was U2… lately it’s Poker Face on repeat. Oh, and Sonic the Hedgehog fans: This cannot be unheard.
This completely pointless blog post has been brought to you by Clockwork Hare Inc.!
I was going to start out this post with something about how most girls go through the infamous “Horse Phase”, but then I realized that I’d just end up with dozens of “but I didn’t!” comments, so instead I’ll begin this post thus:
Yeah, I went through the Horse Phase. Mine was a little different from the other Horse-crazed girls I knew at school, though. While most of them dreamed of ribbons in the manes of Shetland ponies or wild mustangs or that sort of thing, I dreamed of
the thundering
hooves of
thoroughbred racehorses.
This obsession can be entirely blamed on this book, which my dad bought me for some unknown reason (since I had no real interest in horses at the time):
I read it when I was, oh, 12 or 13 years old, and was instantly intrigued by this world previously unknown to me: a world of racehorses– those brave, elegant, hotblooded creatures– and the people who loved them. I went on to read a bunch of the books in the series and then I started reading other books about racehorses and before long I was watching horse races on TV. I’ll never forget my first Kentucky Derby: an underdog horse named Grindstone who triumphed over a bunch of strong contenders. And that was it: I was hooked. I wrote a short story about that race for school, and from that point on I was a horse racing nut.
I drew thoroughbreds, I wrote about thoroughbreds, I read about thoroughbreds, I dreamed of owning a horse farm someday. Then I wanted to become a jockey, which I figured I could get away with because I’m short and scrawny, but reality eventually set in when I remembered that I have zero athletic ability and that I’m terrified of anything past cantering on an actual horse. Still, I wanted to get in on the action somehow, and I daydreamed up stories about my future horses and figured out what color silks my future horse farm would have (white bars on a teal body, and white sleeves).
My strongest desire was to see a horse win the Triple Crown: a perfect trifecta of the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes, and the Belmont Stakes, a feat which has only been accomplished eleven times in over a hundred years, and not since Affirmed in 1978.
So of course the Racing Gods thought it would be most amusing to toy with my heart, and over the course of my next several years of keen race-watching I got to watch heart-wrenching near-misses by Silver Charm in 1997, Real Quiet in 1998, Charismatic in 1999, War Emblem in 2002, Funny Cide in 2003, and the most soul-crushing upset of all: Smarty Jones in 2004. I’d been a fan of Smarty since watching him just romp the field in the Arkansas Derby. “That horse,” I said, “Is going to win the Kentucky Derby.” He did. Then he won the Preakness. And then… then he lost the Belmont to a horse named Birdstone, son of Grindstone, who I’d fallen in love with years before. Oh irony.
After that my interest started to wane a bit. It was a combination of usually being scheduled to work on Saturdays (when most “big” races are run) and simply sort of moving on from the obsession. But while I may not be quite as obsessed as I used to be, I still love the Sport of Kings. I can’t think of anything quite as thrilling as the two minutes that are the Kentucky Derby (this weekend, by the way!) and I can’t think of anything quite as nail-biting as the post parade for the Belmont when a Triple Crown contender is running. I love the spirit of thoroughbreds, I love the stories behind them and their people (insert obligatory “I liked ‘Seabiscuit’, bite me” comment here), and who knows, maybe one of these days I’ll actually get to see a Triple Crown Winner.*
Until then, I present the greatest race of all time (which I can’t watch without tearing up, by the way. I blame the Rudy music):
—
* In actuality the fact that horses these days are bred for speed more than distance has me questioning the idea of preserving the lengths of the original Triple Crown races, even for nostalgia’s sake. I envision a “modern day” Triple Crown as having a 1 1/8 mile Kentucky Derby, a 1 1/16 mile Preakness, and a 1 1/4 mile Belmont. But on the other hand, who am I to mess with the Derby? <3
