Well friends, I forgot to show y’all but I finished it!
That’s mandatory right there. Mandatory delicious."
Well friends, immediately after I began assembling my garland, I discovered that it had a very distinctive pre-k flare to it. Oh well. I’ve been consoling myself with the thought that at least I have been using a glue gun; while it may not be a significantly superior adhesive to good old Elmer’s, at least it is many times more dangerous. And that, is a goddamn grown up thing to do.
So it begins. If I were cooking a dish, this is the point where I have finally finished all the tedious chopping and measuring and combining and separating ingredients. Yay me. PS those colors, go Bruins! Just kidding, fuck sports.
Oh jeez, too much felt. #craftingproblems
Measuring is the bane of crafting. Incidentally it’s most often in this stage that my attempts fail completely and remain abandoned forever. Well, we will see whether today produces a more triumphant outcome.
— Mindy Kaling
Is it on? YEA, it’s on. (Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives).
Breastfeeding and breast pumps are seriously gross. You can measure liquid excreted from your swollen, irritated nipples, in ounces. Ounces! You can pass that liquid directly into an infant’s mouth. Alternatively, you can also suction the liquid into a bottle, and put it in the fridge. Yikes.
Americans are pretty bratty. Also, it’s kind of hard to believe that the Japanese would screw up engineering/technical work so badly that the British would step in and be like “you need to move this entire bridge downstream by a lot”.
"Things like gauging their actual level of interest or understanding of black culture in order to know how far to take a particular conversation before things get awkward."
I know this. I feel myself changing the subject often because I realize my conversation partner’s interest is sharply waning or understanding deeply lacking. It’s funny how common the advice is given to listen to others. It will enrich your life. It will grow your patience. It will save you the trouble of making mistakes others have made. The more I listen, though, the more I seem to hear the act of people sealing themselves and their experiences from others. Narration is ceremonial; a performance that cuts out a space for the person who has experienced something and is speaking on the experience. It does not seek to bring in new participants. It does not seek even a witness, even an anonymous member of an audience. It exists only for the speaker, who is— more importantly— the experiencer. The speech occurs, but neither the ear nor the mouth gains a new experience. We only share a space briefly, and for the entire duration, one acts to severe that space until it is done. The other does nothing; perhaps waiting its turn, perhaps waiting for silence.
“You know what happens when two people talk. One of them speaks and the other breaks in: “It’s absolutely the same with me, I…” and starts talking about himself until the first one manages to slip back in with his own “It’s absolutely the same with me, I…”
The phrase “It’s absolutely the same with me, I…” seems to be an approving echo, a way of continuing the other’s thought, but that is an illusion: in reality it is a brute revolt against a brutal violence, an effort to free our own ear from bondage and to occupy the enemy’s ear by force. ”
- from The Book of Laughter and Forgetting by Milan Kundera