Sunday, December 20, 2009
My Spanish class had just finished our Spanish exam. Afterwards, we were heading to an eatery in Newmarket - Mexicali Fresh - for a celebration dinner (I recommend the place highly). People went their various ways, but the way I went was on foot, with three or four others from my class.
And there he was.
Sitting on a bench waiting for the bus, somewhere on Ranfurly Road. I immediately hid behind the others, to their confusion.
"The guy from the bus, the cute one I blogged about!"
"You wrote about him in your blog? You stalker!"
"Why do you think I'm hiding?"
We then reached the conclusion that he would not have read my blog and therefore wouldn't have known that I was stalking him, and, having passed him by now, I seized the chance for another ogle.
And until now, I entirely forgot to update the blogizzle about this momentous event. How thoughtless of me.
On a different note, might I highly recommend Ramblings of the Bearded One? Kim Ayres is a bearded Scotsman who blogs about all sorts of things. I find his philosophical posts, and the ones about depression/mental illness, particularly interesting.
Another blog with some pretty philosophical content is Soul Survivor, by someone I've actually met - Naveen! Naveen lives in Christchurch. I met Naveen on the NZIBO training/selection camp (the camp in which the New Zealand team for the International Biology Olympiad was selected). He has interesting thoughts.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
You know when you think "I feel sick, I should lie down for a while"?
It doesn't help.
You still feel sick.
So I'm lying here knowing that for the next half an hour at least I'll be lying here, with my sore stomach and my roommate's godforsakenly noisy laptop and the funny pains that keep shooting up my left shin.
In case you were wondering, the title's onomatopoeic.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Scary? Damn right it's scary.
Thirteen years of education. Seventeen and a half years of being a child. What will that make me now? My illustrious educational institute of the last four years would like to think that that makes me a mature, confident, well-balanced young woman (they don't specify well-balanced, but it is strongly hinted). And yet they don't call us young women anymore. They call us "the newest Old Girls". I object to women with children my age calling me "old". But, no matter. Soon I'll be free. Freeeeee!
Or so I'm supposed to feel. You know, elated at the prospect of leaving school and heading out into the big wide world. And in a way I am. But quietly. One day is much like the next, if you know what I mean. Whether I'm a secondary school student or not, I still have to do the dishes at home and tidy my room. Something I'm quite looking forward to is being able to wear whatever piercings I like. I've been thinking for some time that I'd like to get my earlobes double pierced. I'm not sure if I'm brave enough for a piercing that goes through cartilage.
Without the obstacle that boarding school presents to my employment prospects, I'll be able to get a job. I'll have money! Money that I can spend on useful things, like shoes! And socks, and bus fares!
Being an adult. That's not going to happen for a while. But still, I'm more than I was before. A kid? A teenager? A young woman?
Who cares. I'm me.
Welll, I'm sort of like that guy. I love to tell people about my dreams, but they tend not to mind, because I have cool dreams. People at school ask me about my dreams - "Hey Caitlin, been chased by anymore tigers recently?" I have terrifying dreams about tigers. I'll tell you them sometime.
But I've managed to post more than four times on my blog. And I can't speak French, but I'm pretty sure I can speak Spanish. And I'm about to leave high school, so if I can speak it beyond my high school years I'll have beaten him. I'd like to beat him. If I were uninteresting, it would be silly of me to write a blog called "Something Interesting To Read", wouldn't it? I like to think I'm interesting.
So here's back to blogging. No apologies. Just new and exciting posts. Well, maybe not exciting. But interesting, hopefully. There you go!
Monday, November 9, 2009
I bought a "ham roll" (which despite having avocado and being made of some tasty bread, was rather smaller and less satisfying than expected), and a "mocha latte" - advertised as being a "chocolate flavoured latte with chocolate foam". Well, it barely tasted like chocolate at all. It was definitely stronger than boarding house coffee, but was nicely warming on the way down, so I kept drinking it.
After catching the bus back to Ranfurly, I bought a Whittaker's Sante bar (dark chocolate) for it, to try and add some chocolateyness to the drink. The Whittaker's bar usually make very nice hot chocolates - simply dissolve one in hot milk. However, by the time I got to the Ranfurly dairy, bought the chocolate and put it in, my coffee had cooled down significantly. The chocolate melted in sludge without dissolving, and then solidified once more as the coffee reached lukewarmness. I was going to microwave it in the common room once I got to school, but was intercepted by Sinead, who told me in no uncertain terms that it is a sin to microwave coffee. So I drank it cold and sat in the library scraping the solid chocolate out from the bottom of the cup with my fingers.
But! That is not the point of the story! (despite being the third instalment of the coffee saga)
The most interesting thing that happened between the orthodontist's and school was that there was a very cute fellow at the bus stop. Tallish, but sort of small and slim at the same time, without looking especially young - his face looked... not old, but worldly. He could have been anywhere between seventeen and thirty-five. Stripey shirt. Sort of smiley. Scruffyish dark brown stubble, little sideburns and fluffy light brown hair. The sort you want to ruffle.
Anyway, when I came up to the bus stop (well, patch of pavement outside Bivouac), he looked up just as I was checking him out and made eye contact. I looked away. Might have blushed. Pretended not to look at him until the bus came - or buses, seeing as two arrived at once. I got into line for the first one, and he walked over to the second one. I looked in the window of my bus, and saw that there weren't many seats free (I'm one of those people that really prefers not to sit next to strangers on the bus or train), and decided to hop on the second bus. Because, you know, there were more seats free. Not to ogle him or anything (*nonchalant whistle*). I sat a few seats back from the front, on the left, and he sat in the first seat on the right.
So maybe I did ogle him a little. Well, his hair at least, seeing as that was all I could really see. As I ogled I thought, the way I am wont to do when I see interesting strangers out and about. It's quite fun to look at people you see around in the city and try to imagine what their life is like, where they are going and what they are doing. Although he had two seats to himself, he was sitting in the aisle seat, unlike most people (myself included) who would sit in the window seat so that they can stare out the window and pretend to ignore their fellow passengers. I wondered if he was in a hurry to go somewhere, and wanted to leap out of his seat and out the door as soon as the bus came to his stop.I never did find out whether this was his intention, as I got off the bus before he did. Ah well. He fulfilled my eye candy quota for the week.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
This time I was able to have a few sips of the cappuccino without flinching, but I still played chemist with the three mugs until I had a drink that smelt like coffee and tasted like chocolate. It was good. We had ice cream and this juicy berry stuff for dessert, so I add ice cream and berry juice at some point. And that was good. Sort of drowned out the coffee though.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
My friend Paul had said "Start with mochaccinos", but the machine only had hot chocolate, hot water, black coffee and cappuccino. So I pressed the button for a cappuccino.
It didn't fill the mug entirely, but I'm used to that - it does it with hot chocolate too, and I usually top it up with milk. So I topped the cappuccino up with milk and took it back to my table. I took a sip, and it taste fine until I got through the froth onto and into the actual coffee.
I put it down and pulled faces at it. Iris leaned over the table and said "Did you add sugar?"
"The machine doesn't add sugar. You have to put it in yourself."
"Oh, right. That might be why it tastes so bitter, mightn't it?" I carried it back to the table next to the coffee machine where the mugs and sugar are kept, and dumped two tablespoons of sugar on top of the foam, where it slowly dissolved through it and into the coffee. I stirred it with one of the little wooden popsicle sticks that they give us instead of teaspoons to stir our drinks with and tried again, back at the dinner table.
I put the mug down again. "That is way too sweet." Note to self - spoonfuls of sugar are usually measured in teaspoons, not tablespoons. Duh. I had thought that that sugar spoon looked a little big. I kept drinking, slowly, and alternating the coffee with orange juice and the chicken curryish dinner glop. At one point I said to Tap, sitting on my right: "Maybe it's like drinking whiskey. You don't grow to like it, you just get used to it." Whiskey's not so bad, but the first time I tried it I told Dad it tasted like turps. He was horrified by my lack of appreciation for fine booze!
People can grow to like all sorts of things, just because they're used to them. Like city traffic noise, or loud music, or going to hospital. Personally I don't mind hospital (getting to lie in bed sleeping and reading and drinking ginger beer!), but I dislike the circumstances that put me there (painful things like peritonitis and broken bones). Although I have to say I prefer coffee to city traffic noise.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
I've been meaning for a while to get a 2 Degrees sim card, because you can pick them up for $2 at the supermarket, they fit into a Vodafone phone (which mine is), you can call people in New Zealand and 21 other countries for 44c a minute, and you can text people for 9c a text instead of Vodafone's 20c. I'm on Vodafone's txt2000 plan thingy, which means 2000 texts to other Vodafones each month for $10 a month, but I have some friends on Telecom, especially two lovely boys I know who don't live in Auckland.
I don't know why, but something about being female and living in Auckland means you just automatically have a Vodafone. No exceptions. I think it's because of the txt2000 thing - it works best if everyone's on the same network. I know one or two in-Auckland-males with Telecom phones, and one or two out-of-Auckland-females with Telecom phones, but in general it's the out-of-Auckland-males that are the worst offenders. Shout-out to Jack and Paul!
Anyhow, it turns out that 2 Degrees sim cards are actually free! Free, I tell you! Sure, one pays $2 for the actual sim card, but it comes with $2 credit on it, so it's... free. So I grabbed one at the supermarket yesterday, while on a quest with Sinead and Conall to find cannelloni (that's where the photo of me looking all crazy in the supermarket on yesterday's post came from). So now I had a new free sim card! I sent some celebratory 9c texts to Jack and Paul, but then stopped so that I didn't chew through my hard-earned $2 too quickly. And then I got bored, so I put my Vodafone sim card back in and texted Sinead.
This wasn't really all that interesting, come to think of it. I'm just excited that I got a free sim card. FREE SIM CARD! Take that, Rhys Darby!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Of course, Foodtown is concerned for the wellbeing of peanut allergy sufferers:
Lifestyle drinks. I don't know why "lifestyle" is a euphemism for sex, but people always talk about "lifestyle shops" and "lifestyle expos" and "alternative lifestyles" - I find that last one particularly irritating. Being gay or into BDSM or anything like that isn't an alternative lifestyle, it's an alternative sex life. An alternative lifestyle would be living in a treehouse. Which would be really cool. But anyway, lifestyle drinks. For the person who has everything; sex drinks now available in the beverage aisle of Foodtown! Unfortunately not. They just turned out to be "alternative" (read: cranberry/tomato) juices and sports-type drinks. Alas. Way to get our hopes up, Foodtown.
No, really? Foodtown, you're not actually suggesting that chocolate peanuts contain PEANUTS, are you? Shop here if you have a peanut allergy and can't read small writing. They'll be sure to make it obvious.
Last of all, me. Posing quite spectacularly. That mark on my right shoulder is the scar from collarbone surgery mentioned in a previous post.
I love that whole split-personality thing my face is doing. Sinead said that this photo was scary. Can't imagine why.
That's all folks!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Creative Centrale - this is the music programme that came with my mp3 player (a Zen Mozaic - I have the black one. Yes, it looks even more emo in real life). It's good in that it automatically finds music on my computer, and doesn't display all the songs that aren't there like iTunes does. Sometimes I find little gems on Creative Centrale that I didn't know I had - for example, today I realised that Bittersweet Symphony was on my computer, this being a song that had been on my "songs to get" list for months. I use this for putting music onto my mp3 player, even if I take it from a CD with iTunes.
Nokia Music Manager - part of Nokia PC Suite. I don't actually listen to music on my phone, because the last time I tried it took me about three hours to get one song on.
And she'll have fun fun fun till her daddy takes her T-bird away...
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
I noticed this today about settings on Blogger. You're meant to specify which time zone you're bloggging from, and they have multiple city options for each time zone. If you're in a narrow country like New Zealand, you just take the city they've got for New Zealand and shut up. If you're in a wide country like Australia, you pick the city you're closest to, I assume. For example my time zone, GMT + 12:00, has as options Auckland, Fiji, Funafuti and Kwajalein, as well as two very unexpected locations:
Soooo, apparently if you are at the South Pole, your watch should be set to New Zealand time.
I was incredulous at this suggestion, so I consulted the source of all knowledge, Wikipedia:
From "South Pole": In most places on Earth, local time is more-or-less synchronised to the position of the sun in the sky. This line of reasoning fails at the South Pole, which has 'days' lasting for a whole year. Another way of looking at it is to note that all time zones converge at the pole. There is no a priori reason for placing the South Pole in any particular time zone, but as a matter of practical convenience the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station keeps New Zealand time. This is because the US flies its resupply missions out of Christchurch, New Zealand.
Well. The South Pole is on New Zealand time. Fancy that.
Now I'm considering the possibilities of blogging from the South Pole. I read a book about blogging recently that featured on the front cover a man sitting in a snowy landscape, dressed like an (insert-politically-correct-term-for-Eskimo/Inuit/etc-here), with a laptop. And it was a photo, too. I inferred from this that he was meant to be somewhere near the North Pole.
Trouble is, I don't think the South Pole has wifi. But if it ever gets wifi, I'll go down there and blog.
And I won't even have to change my blog's time zone.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Just what you'd think it is from the URL. Texts from the night before, the morning after. The sort of things you find in your inbox/outbox that make you think "What the hell did I do?" I think that if you found texts like these on your phone one morning, you'd also be thinking things like "Where are my pants? Where is my left kidney? Who is this Ukrainian in my kitchen?"*
It started out as a vocab test in the format of "Word X is closest in meaning to Word A, B, C or D?", but now on Free Rice you can choose to have your geography, science, maths and second-language skills tested too. For every question you get right, ten grains of rice are donated to the United Nations World Food Programme - it's paid for by banner ads on each page on FreeRice. Apart from being a good, nice, altruistic thing to do and all that, it can be fun.
The Adventures of Dr. McNinja
An absolutely brilliant webcomic about a doctor who is also a ninja. It has a sufficiently crazy plot, but is alsoo well-drawn. Enjoy. Your life will never be the same.
The interactive playground of Paul Neave
It's not really anything. Interactive playground is a good way to describe it I suppose. It's full of psychedelic colours and joy. Some of the things - like the dandelion that loses seeds when you blow into your microphone - are just silly. Some of the things are quite useful. If you have a laptop and it's night, click on "Planetarium", click your location on the little map in the corner, then go outside with your laptop and match the stars on the screen to the ones in the sky. Some of the things show you what it'd be like to take LSD. My challenge: Click "Strobe" then watch the black and white lines for a minute or so - then look at something stationary. Your hand works quite well, especially if you let your eyes move around a bit.
*Answers to these questions: On top of the tallest landmark of your area. In me - I replaced my appendix with it. The Ukrainian is the leopard wrangler that you married after the ninth shot.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Not so much something interesting about Wikipedia so much as something interesting on it. I found this by googling "We did not invent the algorithm":
If you can't be bothered clicking the link, it's a list of deleted Wikipedia articles with strange titles. Some of my personal favourites are "Bewildergoose", "Elephant Thursday", "People's republic of Antarctica" and "Why I Want To Be King of Australia". One in particular that I think my English teacher would appreciate is "Michelle Obama's arms" (to paraphrase a well-known song - it's my blog and I'll insert personal jokes if I want to!).
I found these interesting because I can't read the articles. What were they about? A few of the article titles have a short description underneath; exempla gratia:
"Why not to sleep in a bamboo forest?"
Single sentence. "Because the bamboo will grow through you... resulting in Death."
Some of the articles were just redirects:
"Pitbull with Lipstick"
Was a redirect to Sarah Palin
I thought an interesting thing to do would be to pick an article title at random, and write a fictional Wikipedia article to match the title. Here's my effort:
Cow cuddling is the act of cuddling a cow. It is performed by placing one's arms around any member of the Bovidae family (excluding antelopes, gazelles, sheep and goats), but usually one from a domestic species such as Bos taurus.
Cow cuddling can be a hazardous activity, as some cows do not appreciate being cuddled. Trying to cuddle a bull increases the risk.
There are no laws against cuddlying cows in most countries, but it is illegal in 26 U.S. states, including Nebraska.
In popular culture
Erm... got nothing for this one. Cow cuddling in popular culture... can't think of any.
Popular culture's got to hurry up and start cuddling cows.
Next week, join me for Elephant Thursday celebrations. It will be a party of pachydermic proportions.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
I can think of two major reasons for wanting to get rid of a scar – and by “get rid of”, I mean “lessen the appearance of” – this isn’t to do with scar tissue or the actual presence of the scar.
1: If there were bad emotions or memories involved with the circumstances of obtaining the scar. But many people have good memories associated with scars – what if you fell over and cut your knees running in a marathon, then went on to win the marathon? If it were me, I’d associate the scars on my knees with the feeling of accomplishment and achievement from the marathon. I have a friend with scars like this – they weren’t from a marathon. We were orienteering in an estuary in 2006 and she cut her knees falling onto shells.
2: If it were quite a disfiguring scar, or not disfiguring but affected your appearance in a way that made you feel bad about yourself or affected your career. For example, a model would want to limit the appearance of their scars if they were in very visible places. And I can completely understand trying to lessen the appearance of a large facial scar, whether one is a model or not.
As for my scars, they’re nowhere near disfiguring, and the only parts of my body I would consider modelling with are my back and eyes – all unscarred. And there are no horrific memories associated with any of them. The story with my newest scar goes that I was playing soccer, and I tripped (I can’t remember what I tripped over), then tried to do a break fall roll over my right shoulder. Something went wrong in the process, and my hands never touched the ground, so I hit the ground shoulder-first and snapped my clavicle clean in two, resulting in my collarbone requiring an operation to screw a titanium plate into it*. It might be an embarrassing memory, but it is a good reminder to be more careful.
In conclusion, I like my scars. I might use some Bio-Oil or tamanu oil on them, but I haven’t got any hang-ups about the way they look, and there’s an interesting story behind every scar.
*What really happened was that the bone was broken but not displaced, and the people at Ascot Hospital A&E sent me on my way with a sling and a prescription, but then I, still wearing soccer boots, slipped over on the tiles outside Ascot Pharmacy (dangerous tiles!), landed on my bum and twitched my right arm trying to catch myself, which jolted my shoulder and displaced the two parts of my clavicle – this is what resulted in the surgery being needed.
And despite the title, not everything here will be interesting things to read! Some people aren't interested in reading (except for blogs, apparently). So there'll be interesting pictures too. Links to interesting websites. Interesting games. Interesting words. If you like interesting things, you'll like this blog. If you don't, and prefer to be bored, go sit in the corner, close your eyes and think of nothing. Then get back to me and tell me how that's going for you.
Just to start the interesting things off, here's a few interesting things:
An interesting website:
http://mylifeisaverage.com/ - Some of you may have heard of fuckmylife.com. MLIA is the version for when your life doesn't suck - it's just normal. Here's my favourite today, just from a quick scan of the front page:
"Today, while typing the word when, the letter E got stuck, so the word became "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee". I was pleased my computer was enjoying itself. MLIA "
Some interesting music:
Tango music! If you speak Spanish, it's fun to try to decipher the Argentine accents and figure out what on earth the songs are about. If you don't, listen to the funky violins and bandoneons.
An interesting thing about Argentine accents:
When I was in Argentina last year, I spent a solid ten minutes trying to tell the teller at the money exchange that I was staying at the Hotel Goya. When I finally thought to show her the word "Goya" written down, she corrected my pronunciation to "Hotel Goizha". MLIS (my life is strange).