Penny Hero (dot) Net

If you can successfully edit an mp3 with a text editor you know you are either really talented, or your name is Ben.

*boggles*

:)

Vegetarians have beef with Tennessee governor

“Sundquist spokeswoman Melanie Catania told The Tennessean newspaper that such proclamations ‘are a tool to promote a positive message … ‘ ”

Juxtaposed with their message: “Our food supply should be safe and wholesome, rather than laced with pathogens, fat, cholesterol, hormones and carcinogens leading to heart disease, stroke, cancer and other chronic afflictions that each year cripple and kill millions.”

Does that sound positive to you? No wonder the governor turned down their proposal.

Self esteem boost of the morning:

[10:26] Eriko!: it’s ppl like you that would ruin the curve for the GRE verbal test … grrr

Complete bullshit, but it made me feel spiffy that a grad-student thinks that. :)

I think it is amusing when you can walk down the hall and hear the sounds of horrifying death and deafening gun-fire and think nothing of it because you know it’s just one of the residents playing counter-strike.

If I giggled, does it mean I’m jaded? Or just that I can tell the difference between electronic violence and real violence?

:)

I first heard the name “Edgar Allen Poe” in elementary school from Alita, a strange and self-promoting teacher’s pet kind of classmate of mine. She would walk around school carrying books larger than her waif-like frame and sit in places where she knew teachers would see her reading them. She’d use intimidating “big words” which no doubt impressed the teachers, but isolated her from her friends, and made me feel particularly stupid and insecure when I was around her.

I liked Poe back then because Alita liked Poe. I would tell people that Poe was my favorite author, especially when she was within earshot, but if anyone asked me which story/poem was my favorite, I’d answer “I like all of them,” because I had never actually read any.

I got my first real taste of Poe in sixth grade when an upper class student memorized and performed the Tell-Tale Heart as a dramatic monologue at our annual talent-show.

And it fucking blew me away.

After that I read Poe as often as possible, trying to make up for all the times I’d said I loved him when really all I loved was Alita. I read the Tell-Tale Heart multiple times, and at one point even tried to memorize it.

This morning: I came to a new understanding of why I enjoy Poe. This morning’s prompt for our daily essay is “Is there any evidence that the narrator in this story is deluded?” An excerpt from my response:

Poe intentionally portrays the narrators in each of these stories as sane in order to enhance the credibility of the evil in his stories… He takes a recognizably sane and logical man, and reveals evil within that context of normality.

An insane person who commits a violent act is not nearly as frightening as someone the reader can intimately relate to mentally.

Intelligent horror. Premeditative psychological terror. It is an art form, a designed and carefully constructed work, with the intention to frighten, rather than to inspire.

Poe takes the Transcendentalist idea that the human soul is divine, and inverts it. He believes the soul indeed transcends mortal existence, but Poe forces us to ask ourselves “How do we know that it is not evil?”

Tee hee. Early-American literary rebel. Yay Poe.

Japanese class is starting to kick my ass. I never thought it would finally happen. But yesterday, I found myself looking at the class notes and realizing that none of what we were learning was review from my high school classes anymore.

This means I’m going to have to actually study now. Shit.

The new vocabulary lists are landing 80 mph crescent kicks in my gut too. Japanese business honorifics from 1950s are simply not useful to me. How many ways do we really need to learn how to say the word “maybe” ? And why do I need to memorize 8 different Japanese business titles? (President, Director, Section Chief etc) And what the fuck is up with the phrase “tsugo ga ikagadesu ka” ? Nakamura-sensei translates it as “How is your convenience?” but uh… that’s just wrong.

Anyway, I’m done ranting. Time to get back to php, library-studies, math, Japanese, philosophy, and English homework.

I’ve sworn off espresso for the last week to avoid another manic-attack… but I don’t know if it is going to help if I don’t make some serious progress tonight.

I’m learning php/MySQL and having a slightly difficult time of it. So I asked a friend for help.

[16:30] Me: damnit val. how do you create a relationship between the column “articlecat” and the table “categories” ??

[16:31] Val: you pay categories 200 bucks to sleep with articlecat … and hope that it will escalate from there

tee hee hee.

The Ring was cool. :)

I’ve always sort of loved scary movies. And now I know why. They relieve stress. They lift the soul. They show you a nightmare in a safe setting. Instead of all alone in your bedroom… late at night… with only a tiny stuffed kitty to grab hold of during a very scary bit.

Funny how life can be like a well-written piece of literature. Every detail of the environment contributing to the theme, the mood, the plot. The presence of Fog (capitalized on purpose, yo) the other night was a very… appropriate detail. Especially when we were driving to Albany. I was specifically thinking to myself “which way do I go? What choice should I make? I can’t see it.” And then I suddenly noticed that it was so foggy outside that Hiro was having trouble seeing the road. Shook me up. And the change from sunny-autumn to Oregon-rainy-overcast-autumn also paralleled things in my life. My mood swing began when the weather changed.

This morning, after watching The Ring, I woke up feeling very good. Smiling, glowing, giggling. I cuddled with my yellow stuffed kitty and purred. THEN I looked outside and saw that it was SUNNY! I don’t know if the weather affects me, or if I’m psychically affecting the weather. :)

When I was a child, I used to play a game with the wind. I would stare out the window at the dancing walnut leaves, and I’d dare them to move faster. I’d mentally taunt them, tease them, and sometimes they would move faster. I used to believe I had power over the wind. I’d go outside when it was windy and beg the wind to make me fly.

I also remember being able to point at a fuzzy tv screen, and sometimes it would clear up. It got to be a joke at my house. If the tv was fuzzy, my mom would yell “emily! come fix the tv!” and I’d come down and point at it… and I guess it cleared up more often than it didn’t… because my mom really did call me down to “fix” it.

I was a strange child. And I don’t think I can do any of those things anymore. But I still have this passionate love for wind and lightning. And static electricity. :) Yay. Go strange Emily. Did I mention that I love cats too?

[/barely cohesive journal entry]

The fog
conceals
the real.

The fog
can hear
my heart.

It mutes
the edge
of things.

It knows
what can’t
be seen.

The path
obscured,
we walk.

The fog
conceals
the real.

The sound
of breath
on cheek.

The fog
reveals
the dream.

He smokes
We talk
he breathes.

“Every person you look at, you can see the universe in their eyes.”

— George Carlin.

(I shit you not.)