Oh okay. My tortoise of a brain figured out why I am not updating about movies and books and things and instead reporting on the trivialities of my quotidian (one of my favorite french words quotidien, c'est jolie) existence or in fact not reporting as all, as evidenced by the dot-dot-dot ellipses lack (one word times three = redundant!) of entries. Oh TODAY I mean to update and now every day is new year's day (and nothing changes, croons the Irish rock-saint).
Parentheses, their disjointed parade, come to an abrupt stop. Screeching, halting, sudden, squeeeeee and AMEN!. I'm full of the thesaurus-thumpin' word-joy-fillin' spirit!
Ummmm. Because thinking and writing and stuff. Oh, it's much more difficult. And something in me is slightly loathe to just mention something and say it was interesting or good. Like we need any more of that in bloggerdom.
The everyday stuff is easier to ramble on about. And I dress it up in cute outfits, fuzzy hats and suave scarves. Below, I will indulge in the gauzier stuff and leave what little substance there is for the next entry.
I got a new chair for my room from Staples. It is much more comfortable than my old metal chair. It has wheels and cushions and I draped a beautiful shawl my friend got from Pakistan over the back just-so to rid the antiseptic office aura, and so I feel like I'm the Princess of my little 8 by 10 Kingdom. I am also a little apprehensive of this new throne, as it is held in place by four screws. Maybe ingenious engineering. Maybe just cheap-o.
I tried making bibimbap yesterday. I bought all the requisite ingredients from the korean food store in k-town. You can pretty much put in whatever stuff you want, but the necessities include sesame seed oil and hot pepper paste. I decided to throw in some spinach, sauteed zucchini, korean spicy turnip (sounds so stupid in english), mung beans (also sounds ugly in english), and of course, fried egg. Alas, my rice was too watery and became mushy and it became mushibibimbap, a new eskimo-korean word for type of porridge.
My mother took me to cut my hair over the weekend and convinced me in that darling (read: overbearing pressure) way of hers to get some side bangs. I was actually opened to the idea, as my hair has pretty much been the same - cut with some layers - (was I the only one to think of cake right there?). It looked fine that day. But I am not used to having these short tufts of hair hanging about the eye area, like a sheepdog. I also found that this style does not respond well to my practice of showering and not combing and then just going to bed. A hairmare. We need to get reacquainted, my hair and I. It's a new musical and we waltz together and learn superficial cross cultural lessons like humanity and love and waltzing.
Right now: I am craving a grilled cheese sandwich like no tomorrow.
and I really want to watch Buffy episodes.
and I really seem to have a problem with parenthetical statements.