Man is a hungry thing, he wants to possess as much as he can. The moon we say is our planets satellite, but is it? We avoid definitions that would claim it otherwise and why? Even though it's quite simple when you think on it, why don't we title it a planet? Are we so desperate to own the moon? A giant rock in space? It would sell just as well on ebay, even if it wasn't a satellite, maybe even better, a stake in another planet. We could say we've gone to other planets, and wouldn't that be a fascinating notion?
Bonus thought: Oh, and why does every other planet get cool names for their planets? Naming our moon, Moon? Why not rename the earth Planet? Or the Sun, Star? Weird, it's just weird.
a place for hot single polar bears to meet other hot single polar bears ... or it could just be a twently-three year old slogging the complex nature of spirituality.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
The Great Missing Book Caper
About a month ago I decided it was time to "clean" my room. This of course means taking everything off the shelves and then sorting everything into the following categories: Garbage, Clothes, Books, and Random Stuff Which Will Remain on the Floor (ie. nail files, broken headphones, a purse which looks like a Chinese takeout box, a box of saltwater taffy, ect.) Anyway so I glanced at my bookshelf to verify all the books were retrieved from the pile when I noticed something. Something frightening.
Peeps was missing.
I mean I knew exactly where it was supposed to be, right in between Nightlight and Pretties but it wasn't! I racked my mind for all the places it could be and left panicked messages on all the walls of anyone I had ever lent a book to, ever. Slowly, one by one, the messages came in. None of them had borrowed the book.
I didn't know what to do. I resigned myself to the fact I'd never see my beloved book ever again.
Later in the week my mom asked if I wanted to go out to eat since she had to get some craft supplies at Michaels, or Hobby Lobby, whichever ended up having what she needed. Knowing I had received gift cards to two different book stores I asked her if there were any nearby. She answered that Shulers was and I excitedly grabbed the card and started singing my "I'm going to a book store" song.
The I'm Going to a Book Store Song
I'm going to a book store
I'm going to a book store!
Oh, I am going to a book STORE!!!!
Tra la la la la!
We ate at Olive Garden and I felt like a complete failure since I reached my food consumption limit right when I had one ravioli left. There is hardly anything more humiliating than that. I mean, you can't finish your plate, but you can't get a box either, since really, who gets a box for one ravioli? So you're left feeling like a spoiled food waster who doesn't care at all about the starving children in Africa. But in the end it didn't really matter that I didn't finish it because our waiter was like, the coolest one in the world.
So after going to Michaels and having me wander the aisles randomly looking at stuff and trying to keep my gift card buffer money from being spent, we went to the book store (insert angelic choir music here).
I knew with complete certainty I was going to buy Odd Thomas but I encountered the problem of genres. I hate genres. To me, music is music, books are books, movies are movies. I don't understand why we have to split everything up, I spent pretty near forever searching all the wrong places in the book store for Odd Thomas. I decided to give it a rest and head over to the Young Adult section, a section I love since it doesn't decide to separate anything on genre, you just look up the last name you want and your good to go. I got to the W's and just stared at Peeps, stared at it for a long time. How certain was I that I wouldn't ever find my copy again? Pretty dang certain. I picked it up, checked the price to make sure it didn't put me over my budget, and decided to keep it. Then I recruited my mom to help me find the last book I was looking for.
She glanced at my pile of books. "So you decide to get it again?"
"Yeah," I responded, "I'm pretty sure my copy is gone."
Being a mom, she has this strange ability to find anything within about thirty seconds, so she had no problem locating Dean Koontz books. I picked up the one I wanted and paused.
Should I really get Peeps again? Is it really a stupid idea? I went back over to the W section to put it back. I sat on the bench wondering if I had made the correct decision, and with a deep breath I exchanged the copy of Peeps I had picked out for one with a different cover, my logic was this: My copy of Peeps wouldn't recognize this new one, and therefore wouldn't feel the need to reveal itself in defiance of the newcomer. So I caved, bought it, and happily took my loot home.
After getting in a semi-epic battle with my brother (including him pretending to be a robot while I pretended to by a hotel lobby fountain) which ended with my mom intervening and talking about "conflict resolution" and how she and my dad have been horrible examples of this since they never fight... blah blah blah. Which ended with Ben complaining about how unfair it is to be a guy since girls take everything so personally, I went to put my books away. To make room for the new books I had to constantly shove others down a shelf (which leads to chain reactions of the shelf below getting to full and needing even more books put down a shelf). The last book I removed from the bag was Peeps. I attempted to jiggle it into place but found all the books were too snug and I went to move another book down.
And which book do you suppose was hiding behind my book of 24 Italian Arias? Hmm?
There, compleatly out of alphabetical order, was Peeps.
I sat dumbfounded for a bit and pondered how if I hadn't bought another copy of Peeps I never would have found it.
Peeps was missing.
I mean I knew exactly where it was supposed to be, right in between Nightlight and Pretties but it wasn't! I racked my mind for all the places it could be and left panicked messages on all the walls of anyone I had ever lent a book to, ever. Slowly, one by one, the messages came in. None of them had borrowed the book.
I didn't know what to do. I resigned myself to the fact I'd never see my beloved book ever again.
Later in the week my mom asked if I wanted to go out to eat since she had to get some craft supplies at Michaels, or Hobby Lobby, whichever ended up having what she needed. Knowing I had received gift cards to two different book stores I asked her if there were any nearby. She answered that Shulers was and I excitedly grabbed the card and started singing my "I'm going to a book store" song.
The I'm Going to a Book Store Song
I'm going to a book store
I'm going to a book store!
Oh, I am going to a book STORE!!!!
Tra la la la la!
We ate at Olive Garden and I felt like a complete failure since I reached my food consumption limit right when I had one ravioli left. There is hardly anything more humiliating than that. I mean, you can't finish your plate, but you can't get a box either, since really, who gets a box for one ravioli? So you're left feeling like a spoiled food waster who doesn't care at all about the starving children in Africa. But in the end it didn't really matter that I didn't finish it because our waiter was like, the coolest one in the world.
So after going to Michaels and having me wander the aisles randomly looking at stuff and trying to keep my gift card buffer money from being spent, we went to the book store (insert angelic choir music here).
I knew with complete certainty I was going to buy Odd Thomas but I encountered the problem of genres. I hate genres. To me, music is music, books are books, movies are movies. I don't understand why we have to split everything up, I spent pretty near forever searching all the wrong places in the book store for Odd Thomas. I decided to give it a rest and head over to the Young Adult section, a section I love since it doesn't decide to separate anything on genre, you just look up the last name you want and your good to go. I got to the W's and just stared at Peeps, stared at it for a long time. How certain was I that I wouldn't ever find my copy again? Pretty dang certain. I picked it up, checked the price to make sure it didn't put me over my budget, and decided to keep it. Then I recruited my mom to help me find the last book I was looking for.
She glanced at my pile of books. "So you decide to get it again?"
"Yeah," I responded, "I'm pretty sure my copy is gone."
Being a mom, she has this strange ability to find anything within about thirty seconds, so she had no problem locating Dean Koontz books. I picked up the one I wanted and paused.
Should I really get Peeps again? Is it really a stupid idea? I went back over to the W section to put it back. I sat on the bench wondering if I had made the correct decision, and with a deep breath I exchanged the copy of Peeps I had picked out for one with a different cover, my logic was this: My copy of Peeps wouldn't recognize this new one, and therefore wouldn't feel the need to reveal itself in defiance of the newcomer. So I caved, bought it, and happily took my loot home.
After getting in a semi-epic battle with my brother (including him pretending to be a robot while I pretended to by a hotel lobby fountain) which ended with my mom intervening and talking about "conflict resolution" and how she and my dad have been horrible examples of this since they never fight... blah blah blah. Which ended with Ben complaining about how unfair it is to be a guy since girls take everything so personally, I went to put my books away. To make room for the new books I had to constantly shove others down a shelf (which leads to chain reactions of the shelf below getting to full and needing even more books put down a shelf). The last book I removed from the bag was Peeps. I attempted to jiggle it into place but found all the books were too snug and I went to move another book down.
And which book do you suppose was hiding behind my book of 24 Italian Arias? Hmm?
There, compleatly out of alphabetical order, was Peeps.
I sat dumbfounded for a bit and pondered how if I hadn't bought another copy of Peeps I never would have found it.
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