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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| The way my father watches Lord of the Rings:
Frodo stands on the end of a cliff, dangling The Ring over the lava in Mount Doom. Seconds roll by. The camera looms and zooms in on Frodo's unreadable expression and Sam's pained cries of "Destroy it! Destroy it!" The reaction from the Han family?
"Ai. PUSH HIM IN!" Me and Michelle turn toward our father who is eagerly leaning over the counter, trying to get a better viewing of the screen.
"Go, go go go...push him in. Hurry up! Now! Go, go, go."
"Daddy!" Michelle scolds. "You're not supposed to say that."
My dad doesn't hear her. He's too busy urging Sam to do his friend in, rationalizing, "Push him in! It's for the greater good!"
Frodo snatches the ring back to his chest, turns, and tells Sam that he's going to keep it. Michelle and I hear a very loud rude noise come from above us.
"Ai! Useless."
A few minutes later, Frodo is dangling from the same ledge, barely holding on with his uninjured hand. We watched silently as Sam runs over and tries to save his precious Mr. Frodo. My father does not approve.
"Leave him!" he tells Sam. To Frodo, he gestures with his hands, "Down down down down. Go down! Hurry up. Down down down down down!"
Michelle and I have given up at this point. We make no comment when he guffaws loudly as Mount Doom explodes and Frodo runs for his life.
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| ...is the middle part where the weird/ugly/out-of-place person gets transformed into someone who is cool/pretty/fitting-in. Cue fun, upbeat background music and montage of clips.
Examples:
Legally Blond(e)- is that extra "e" in there?
The Devil Wears Prada
Chick flicks- the way to go.
Yes, this is what I am doing with my life the first day I am officially home.
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| This needed an update.
There was a funny story to tell that my sister put up on her xanga and I don't want to repeat it, so you should just read it there: www.xanga.com/meesha
She told me to put it up weeks ago but I was too busy.
And by busy I mean lazy.
I read this quote somewhere that I really like:
"My ambition is handicapped by laziness."
Good one.
I'm reading chick-lit. Don't look at me, blame my sister for buying it at the library book sale for two dollars. It's really sad when the only books you've enjoyed reading as a 20-year-old involve shameless bouts of meaningless hookups and 30-year-olds who pine to get married.
Don't judge. It's witty, fast-paced, and I don't have to dig through metaphors that take up a chapter and then some.
Other things I have been up to (besides preparing for finals, because really, college is for cramming, right?):
1. Lusting after UrbanOutfitters.com
2. Stalking Flickr accounts of people I don't know and will never know but still admire their effortless photography skils
3. Reading fashion blogs, because I obviously need help in that area.
4. Reading the NYTIMES website and skipping to the Arts section, by passing the headlines and thereby remaining ignorant of pressing current events. I'm American.
5. Hunting craigstlist for job opportunities that I don't qualify for and would never take. It's the thrill of the chase, my friends.
6. Texting, just because I can
7. Looking up house blueprints on eplans.com for Victorian styled houses. In this fantasy of mine, I am also married to Ben Barnes. Go away.
8. Watching CSI NY, Ugly Betty, Veronica Mars, Psych, Bones, and Brothers&Sisters. If you don't watch any of these, you should. And if you think they're lame, well, then we just can't be friends.
Did you really care? No, probably not.
But hey, I helped you procrastinate, didn't I?
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| I wonder what is the point of blogs. Ironic, yes, I know, but I still wonder.
Is it because we think that our lives are really that interesting and so we want other to share in them?
Or maybe it's an outlet for pent up frustrations, feelings, and thoughts that we're too scared to voice face to face with other human beings. I suppose the internet is a nice buffer.
I wonder why it's so addicting to read other people's blogs, even though in reality, you don't really care. Maybe blogs were invented by the master procrastinator.
Actually, I think more people should start writing blogs. Not that I particularly like reading emo posts about rejection, unrequited love, or really boring self-promoting blerbs about how awesome the blogger's day was....but it satisfies the inner child in me- the one who likes to know other people's business.
Hm, I wonder why that is.
Humans are so nosy. I should know.
You know, now that I've typed "wonder" so much, the word is starting to look really funny. Is that how we really spell it? I guess so, since the little red squiggly line isn't showing up.
I am really enjoying the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack. Listen to "Latika's Theme". It's relaxing. It'll make you wonder.
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| It's dinnertime and the family has relapsed into our usual post-dinner routine. My dad critiques the cooking, insisting that if he makes even better green beans, my mom ignores him and collects the dishes, and the rest of us start talking about everything and anything in particular.
"So, Jaja," my mom says, "how was your week?" I've just come home from school and I fill them in.
"Good," I respond, "We had a speaker on Thursday who talked about his new baby girl."
"Oh, that's nice."
"Yeah, he refers to her as Blockhead."
My family pauses and only looks at me.
"Well," I clarify, "He sometimes calls her Spongebob, too." Michelle starts laughing. My mom looks visibly confused.
"Eh? Who is this Spongebob?"
"He's a cartoon character," my little sister informs her. "He has a square head, too."
"Eh?" The three of us try to explain.
My father cuts in.
"Ai. His daughter has a flat head because he did not shape it well. He has no one to blame but himself. He did not pick up the art of head shaping."
Michelle, Yoyo, and I stare at him.
"What?" is the collective response. My dad merely eats more tofu. "Hey, Wayway, get me some more rice."
"Wait," I say, "What do you mean by "head shaping", Daddy."
My mom explains. "He used to check on you guys every three hours when you were a baby and positioned you so that you weren't always sleeping on the same side. He rotated." My sisters and I gape at each other.
"Yeah," my dad says, matter-a-factly, as he reaches for more fish. "That's why the three of you have such nice, round heads. Thank me later. Wayway, more rice!"
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