Like football camp, but for nerds:
DC Fencers' Club
2003 Summer Fencing Camp
DC Fencers' Club
9330 Fraser Ave., Silver Spring, MD 20910
Phone: 301-562-1990
Fax: 301-309-006
1st SESSION: JULY 7-11, 2003
2nd SESSION: JULY 14-18, 2003 SOLD OUT!
From 10:00 am to 4:00 pm
Our camp is open to beginners, as well as experienced fencers. Must be at least 7 years of age.
Camp Activities Include:
Group lessons ................ Soccer
Footwork ...................... Games
Technique & Tactics ....... Fencing Videos
Competition ...................Training with nationally ranked fencers
I can see it now:
American Pie IV... "One day at fencing camp..."
Friday, May 30, 2003
Sticky Note to Self For Fencing Improvement: Lunge Lower!
Hmm, how much does Nick (B) remember from DCFC? Because I don't remember jack squat. But I was a goof during 10th grade in DCFC so that's also why. I remember doing the "I am Inigo Montoya!" speech from the Princess Bride a lot. And I remember being afflicted with 'glovehand,' that funky smell that emanates from your hand after wearing a single quilted glove for an hour and getting sweaty in it. Fortunately, I am spared that now because we aren't provided with gloves, so I bout barehanded. It doesn't seem to matter- my knuckles don't get all banged up like with epee. Foil is more genteel. It doesn't give you pin-point purple bruises.
I was not, however, spared MaskStench tonight, which is a pretty self-explanatory drawback that comes with the fencing territory. "We'll all get SARS!" someone joked about their grottiness. Horrendous SARS masks, those. They're gaping sieves. Look! I am the human fly!
I did spend the session swatting at my sparring partner (whose name he told me but I've forgotten)'s knees like an ex-epeeist/ bad foilist, but I ascribe that more to my lack of point control than any epee habits I must deprogram. The body does not remember- it's not like bicycling. I got a respectable number of hits on him though.
I was more comfortable this week with disengage 4 and 6 and combination 4-6, which I've finally figured out. Our instructor, who is a dumpy and unassuming middle-aged woman (but actually an amazingly fast ex-Olympian) trained our reaction times by dropping a piece of lint and having us try to hit it as it fell. Yes, this is one of those things you're supposed to fail. I got thoroughly exhausted, and did not feel like lifting anything heavy with my right arm all evening.
Something strange: my sparring partner asked me what school I go to.
What school do I go to?
Should I say "did" or "will"?
It made me feel discombobulated, not to have any school to identify with, like having no country, or no religion. It felt like I had turned paper thin and slipped into a crack between two sidewalk squares.
Hmm, how much does Nick (B) remember from DCFC? Because I don't remember jack squat. But I was a goof during 10th grade in DCFC so that's also why. I remember doing the "I am Inigo Montoya!" speech from the Princess Bride a lot. And I remember being afflicted with 'glovehand,' that funky smell that emanates from your hand after wearing a single quilted glove for an hour and getting sweaty in it. Fortunately, I am spared that now because we aren't provided with gloves, so I bout barehanded. It doesn't seem to matter- my knuckles don't get all banged up like with epee. Foil is more genteel. It doesn't give you pin-point purple bruises.
I was not, however, spared MaskStench tonight, which is a pretty self-explanatory drawback that comes with the fencing territory. "We'll all get SARS!" someone joked about their grottiness. Horrendous SARS masks, those. They're gaping sieves. Look! I am the human fly!
I did spend the session swatting at my sparring partner (whose name he told me but I've forgotten)'s knees like an ex-epeeist/ bad foilist, but I ascribe that more to my lack of point control than any epee habits I must deprogram. The body does not remember- it's not like bicycling. I got a respectable number of hits on him though.
I was more comfortable this week with disengage 4 and 6 and combination 4-6, which I've finally figured out. Our instructor, who is a dumpy and unassuming middle-aged woman (but actually an amazingly fast ex-Olympian) trained our reaction times by dropping a piece of lint and having us try to hit it as it fell. Yes, this is one of those things you're supposed to fail. I got thoroughly exhausted, and did not feel like lifting anything heavy with my right arm all evening.
Something strange: my sparring partner asked me what school I go to.
What school do I go to?
Should I say "did" or "will"?
It made me feel discombobulated, not to have any school to identify with, like having no country, or no religion. It felt like I had turned paper thin and slipped into a crack between two sidewalk squares.
Done with high school! Done with school! Yes, all 12 years of it, and a chapter of my life is over.
I said goodbye to RM the building today (though I will be back eventually to pay obligations). I said goodbye to those old stones and old haunts and the courtyard that sheltered me in freshman year as I sat there on the first day of school at lunch, on the grass under the trees and sky with a bunch of people I did not know but would get to know much better in the next four years, but then it was all new to me. But today I said goodbye to Rachel in the hallway in that brief gap of time between first and second period, as if I'd see her tomorrow. Mary, I never even saw. I really don't know how to say goodbyes.
I thought it was strange also that the glue that had held us together is suddenly gone. That people who have no bearing on my life any longer still make their regular orbits in the universe of my consciousness, celestial beings unaware yet that the axis has fallen away. I thank you for having been with me for the last four years, or seven or seventeen as the case may be. I know that as of now we will go our own ways... Malex had protested that he would not leave me overnight, but I know that gradually and inevitably we'll all drift apart and move on. But for now, I still think of you as my friends, at least for a little while.
When I left the building into the real world, the whole world was infused with joy.
I said goodbye to RM the building today (though I will be back eventually to pay obligations). I said goodbye to those old stones and old haunts and the courtyard that sheltered me in freshman year as I sat there on the first day of school at lunch, on the grass under the trees and sky with a bunch of people I did not know but would get to know much better in the next four years, but then it was all new to me. But today I said goodbye to Rachel in the hallway in that brief gap of time between first and second period, as if I'd see her tomorrow. Mary, I never even saw. I really don't know how to say goodbyes.
I thought it was strange also that the glue that had held us together is suddenly gone. That people who have no bearing on my life any longer still make their regular orbits in the universe of my consciousness, celestial beings unaware yet that the axis has fallen away. I thank you for having been with me for the last four years, or seven or seventeen as the case may be. I know that as of now we will go our own ways... Malex had protested that he would not leave me overnight, but I know that gradually and inevitably we'll all drift apart and move on. But for now, I still think of you as my friends, at least for a little while.
When I left the building into the real world, the whole world was infused with joy.
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
You know why "Deerskin" is boring now?
Because amnesia is a boring affliction. I swear, this is the whole book after page 60 up until now.. "She did not want to think of the future. She paid scarce attention to what she was doing in the present. She could not remember her past." Well great. What does that leave me with? A singularly uninteresting teenage girl bumbling around a rotten hut, or in a forest, or in the moutains with her dog. It really doesn't matter, does it?
Because amnesia is a boring affliction. I swear, this is the whole book after page 60 up until now.. "She did not want to think of the future. She paid scarce attention to what she was doing in the present. She could not remember her past." Well great. What does that leave me with? A singularly uninteresting teenage girl bumbling around a rotten hut, or in a forest, or in the moutains with her dog. It really doesn't matter, does it?
Monday, May 26, 2003
I think that it's not quite true that Xu has no redeeming qualities, and that anyone who says so is doing himself a grave disservice in allowing several aspects of a person to cloud his judgment. Xu is not the easiest person to get along with, but he has talent, and a burning need to correct past grievances. Anyone looking for "decency" in the form of conciliation will not find it there, which is what upsets people the most, especially girls who are taught from birth that a person's self worth can be found in her social graces. Sexism and homophobia and racial militance are political points of view that don't make it very pleasant to be around him. However, I do not find a sense of sexual equality, acceptance of alternative lifestyles or acceptance of other races to be fundamental moral values, meaning that you can be a sexist gay-hating militant segregationist and a kind and decent person whose viewpoints I will despise with all my guts and with all my power try to prevent from reaching a position of public office and keep away from my children. Nothing personal; it's strictly a matter of ideology. I hate Nazis and Nazis hate me; it's not like we know each other or ever will, and I bet there are a good deal of skins who I could respect as people if I ever got to know them but could never see eye to eye with, period, and I will still fight against all they stand for. Taking hatreds to a personal level simply make these things more psychologically palatable; it becomes much easier to hate Western racial oppression by hating the White Man, and it is much easier to hate the White Man by starting with that particular White Man over there, standing on a corner, minding his own business and eating a sandwich. But if you ever get to talk to people with odious viewpoints, by which I mean the gay-bashers, the evangelical Christians, the ultra-liberals, the Church of Satanists, the animal rights activists, the anti-Americans, you'd be surprised by the vast amount of people you don't hate on any personal level. I have never talked to a White Racist except for going on some webpages and reading some materials, but I suspect the experience would be very much the same.
But on the whole, society does need people like Xu who stay proud and angry, and who do not say anything that is not true, and if it is true will say it. The Asian community needs the voice, the fire and the anger. This is our country but we have never claimed it for our own, and so we sit around like houseguests uncomfortable with touching the furniture and of course are never heard and never recognized.
And since it is a quality in him I have noticed before now, but apparently other people have not, I should like to observe here that Xu is very defensive of Puffy, and anyone who hurts him or is perceived as hurting him will suffer Xu's wholehearted wrath with all objectivity and rationality suspended. Very few people are loyal to such a degree/fault and I admire and forgive him for it if it should ever become my place to forgive.
But on the whole, society does need people like Xu who stay proud and angry, and who do not say anything that is not true, and if it is true will say it. The Asian community needs the voice, the fire and the anger. This is our country but we have never claimed it for our own, and so we sit around like houseguests uncomfortable with touching the furniture and of course are never heard and never recognized.
And since it is a quality in him I have noticed before now, but apparently other people have not, I should like to observe here that Xu is very defensive of Puffy, and anyone who hurts him or is perceived as hurting him will suffer Xu's wholehearted wrath with all objectivity and rationality suspended. Very few people are loyal to such a degree/fault and I admire and forgive him for it if it should ever become my place to forgive.
Sunday, May 25, 2003
Casting Pearls Before Swine: Wherein Angie Goes All Madame Bovary
Senior prom.. several hundred pigs in stretched satin rutting around in the mud for four hours packed in the middle of other bloated piggy bodies. Maybe you oink occasionally. I suppose this type of thing would appeal to you, if you were a pig.
I think I had imagined a dark room, and a dance floor with tables around it with seated people making polite chatter in the dark, which was all essentially correct (except for the polite chatter), and on the dance floor, awkward teenagers kind of swaying and stepping on each other's feet and trying to look like adults in a slow dance, which was essentially incorrect. I thought, if I had expected it to be boring, that it would be boring in a formal way. And that with hired limousines and nail appointments and coifed hair threaded with pearls and sparkly dresses and white roses on your wrist and red roses in suit jacket breast pockets and white gloves that go all the way up to your elbows and everything looking spot on, I was disappointed to see that what was touted to be a dance to mark the ending of my girlhood was really nothing more than a sty.
I have been to other dances and enjoyed them just as much as the next teenager (who is not as intellectually pretentious), but they were never solely "hip hop," which is my less than favorite musical genre, and I was never dressed to the nines and and made to feel like a princess beforehand. It felt like I was having mud flung at me.
It also should be said that being lost in the middle of a sea of people drives me to seek intimacy in the person next to me, which was not forthcoming. Anyone, really, to cling to. Hold me, keep me, stay with me. Be warm and comforting and be my teddy bear. Me and Rob kind of looked at each other and were like.. "No." Four years of high school and three years of middle school didn't breed any kind of physical familiarity right there. Also, since you are socially responsible for your date, you can't very well go off to a corner and sulk.
There is, however, the happy friend of the hapless dancer: Dancing In A Circle. ^__^ Hurrah! Xu "Cornell" Wang had categorized me and Rob as the "dating of the desperate," which was pretty much a case of the pot calling the kettle black since his date was a goddamn glow stick. Nonetheless, it worked out very well for him. He had four or five glowsticks and spread the happy glowstick love around so that anybody clapping to the music with a group of buoyant friends crowded around Puffy juggling streaks of light could hardly stay depressed for long. And the glowsticks would go around and people would take turns inside the circle demonstrating their pyrotechnic skillz to enthusiastic cheers and applause. It was also fun dancing with Andrew Durfor too, since while he can't and doesn't "dance", he revels in moving around in a spectacularly silly fashion, and (it's the greatest thing about him no matter where he is and what he's doing) he makes you want to have fun too. We all at one point stopped caring about looking like idiots as long as we were quite thoroughly enjoying ourselves, with the all-male conga line, then the all-everyone conga line, then the male on male dirty dancing, which Xu said was faggy but he can stick his glowsticks where the sun don't shine. Malex almost kissed Nick (B) but Nick refused his dirty man-lips. I did some dancing with Malex and then Nick which involved some crotch bumping and I took a very long bath when I got home. I suspect Nick and Malex took very long baths also (but not with each other). ("What the hell did I do last night?") Also, me and Rob did dance with each other as in "dancing while facing the other's general direction" and were very happy with that.
Tragara's: Went to Silvia's house so that James could drive us from there to the restaurant. Rob was there already (at Silvia's house, not Tragara's), and when I gave him his boutonniere all the petals fell out. XD Nice restaurant, not worth $35 normally, but I got to steal other people's food, so it was. Andrew P eats everything, and stays skinny. Andrew Durfor on principle refuses to eat salad and will most likely get fat.
"Do you know how many angels died to make that pasta?" -Andrew D on angel-hair pasta
James is very good-looking and funny and charming and easy to get along with, but unlike Puffy, who is also very good-looking and funny and charming and easy to get along with, he doesn't make me feel like an idiot, so we were all very chatty in the car. He is very (James, not Puffy) sexy when he concentrates so he was the hottest boy to grace the Postprom airhockey table. Yes, even hotter than Ersin "The Russian Machine" (insert eyeroll here). He's a Russian Machine, meaning he breaks down... I beat him 7-3 in air hockey. BOOYA! Who da "2 Puck Master" now??!! Laser tag was also very cool. As was the Iron Man Race, but I fell on my head and skinned my knee because I rolled down the inclines and the metal studs in my pants got embedded in my skin. I was quite bad at that, having gotten stuck on the first section where you climb up little blocks sticking out of a wall because the blocks kept giving way under my feet, but Josh is amazingly agile and very good at it. Puffy taught me how to play pool and was very politely patient, especially so since by his own account he has never lost a game. I felt very educated by the time I left postprom.
I have been wondering whether I like Malex "in that way" but have decided that I don't and that even if I do we have nothing in common and we'd break up anyways and then I'd say, "Let's just be friends" but since we're already friends I'm two steps ahead of myself so why not skip the relationship altogether. It's the most painful thing when you have male friends to give them away and let them go because you like to think that he's yours forever for yourself, and it's been that way with Sean from elementary school and then Harry from middle school and then Nick and then Malex and will be my curse and blessing until the day I die, to have and then nothave male friends. And with Nick since 9th grade I've given so much of his friendship away to Bivalves and Drama and that Bard Who's Been Dead for 400 Years and Naomi and Abby and Allie and Lizzie and Julia and Re-Lizzie and an unremitting parade of female attentions that no part of him is hardly mine anymore so that I don't care where the rest goes, though I may feel some pain like when they've given you a shot and pull the needle out. But the point here is that this little bit of pain upon removal makes me hallucinate that I like someone, In That Way, and this is usually an illusion that does not last very long.
Senior prom.. several hundred pigs in stretched satin rutting around in the mud for four hours packed in the middle of other bloated piggy bodies. Maybe you oink occasionally. I suppose this type of thing would appeal to you, if you were a pig.
I think I had imagined a dark room, and a dance floor with tables around it with seated people making polite chatter in the dark, which was all essentially correct (except for the polite chatter), and on the dance floor, awkward teenagers kind of swaying and stepping on each other's feet and trying to look like adults in a slow dance, which was essentially incorrect. I thought, if I had expected it to be boring, that it would be boring in a formal way. And that with hired limousines and nail appointments and coifed hair threaded with pearls and sparkly dresses and white roses on your wrist and red roses in suit jacket breast pockets and white gloves that go all the way up to your elbows and everything looking spot on, I was disappointed to see that what was touted to be a dance to mark the ending of my girlhood was really nothing more than a sty.
I have been to other dances and enjoyed them just as much as the next teenager (who is not as intellectually pretentious), but they were never solely "hip hop," which is my less than favorite musical genre, and I was never dressed to the nines and and made to feel like a princess beforehand. It felt like I was having mud flung at me.
It also should be said that being lost in the middle of a sea of people drives me to seek intimacy in the person next to me, which was not forthcoming. Anyone, really, to cling to. Hold me, keep me, stay with me. Be warm and comforting and be my teddy bear. Me and Rob kind of looked at each other and were like.. "No." Four years of high school and three years of middle school didn't breed any kind of physical familiarity right there. Also, since you are socially responsible for your date, you can't very well go off to a corner and sulk.
There is, however, the happy friend of the hapless dancer: Dancing In A Circle. ^__^ Hurrah! Xu "Cornell" Wang had categorized me and Rob as the "dating of the desperate," which was pretty much a case of the pot calling the kettle black since his date was a goddamn glow stick. Nonetheless, it worked out very well for him. He had four or five glowsticks and spread the happy glowstick love around so that anybody clapping to the music with a group of buoyant friends crowded around Puffy juggling streaks of light could hardly stay depressed for long. And the glowsticks would go around and people would take turns inside the circle demonstrating their pyrotechnic skillz to enthusiastic cheers and applause. It was also fun dancing with Andrew Durfor too, since while he can't and doesn't "dance", he revels in moving around in a spectacularly silly fashion, and (it's the greatest thing about him no matter where he is and what he's doing) he makes you want to have fun too. We all at one point stopped caring about looking like idiots as long as we were quite thoroughly enjoying ourselves, with the all-male conga line, then the all-everyone conga line, then the male on male dirty dancing, which Xu said was faggy but he can stick his glowsticks where the sun don't shine. Malex almost kissed Nick (B) but Nick refused his dirty man-lips. I did some dancing with Malex and then Nick which involved some crotch bumping and I took a very long bath when I got home. I suspect Nick and Malex took very long baths also (but not with each other). ("What the hell did I do last night?") Also, me and Rob did dance with each other as in "dancing while facing the other's general direction" and were very happy with that.
Tragara's: Went to Silvia's house so that James could drive us from there to the restaurant. Rob was there already (at Silvia's house, not Tragara's), and when I gave him his boutonniere all the petals fell out. XD Nice restaurant, not worth $35 normally, but I got to steal other people's food, so it was. Andrew P eats everything, and stays skinny. Andrew Durfor on principle refuses to eat salad and will most likely get fat.
"Do you know how many angels died to make that pasta?" -Andrew D on angel-hair pasta
James is very good-looking and funny and charming and easy to get along with, but unlike Puffy, who is also very good-looking and funny and charming and easy to get along with, he doesn't make me feel like an idiot, so we were all very chatty in the car. He is very (James, not Puffy) sexy when he concentrates so he was the hottest boy to grace the Postprom airhockey table. Yes, even hotter than Ersin "The Russian Machine" (insert eyeroll here). He's a Russian Machine, meaning he breaks down... I beat him 7-3 in air hockey. BOOYA! Who da "2 Puck Master" now??!! Laser tag was also very cool. As was the Iron Man Race, but I fell on my head and skinned my knee because I rolled down the inclines and the metal studs in my pants got embedded in my skin. I was quite bad at that, having gotten stuck on the first section where you climb up little blocks sticking out of a wall because the blocks kept giving way under my feet, but Josh is amazingly agile and very good at it. Puffy taught me how to play pool and was very politely patient, especially so since by his own account he has never lost a game. I felt very educated by the time I left postprom.
I have been wondering whether I like Malex "in that way" but have decided that I don't and that even if I do we have nothing in common and we'd break up anyways and then I'd say, "Let's just be friends" but since we're already friends I'm two steps ahead of myself so why not skip the relationship altogether. It's the most painful thing when you have male friends to give them away and let them go because you like to think that he's yours forever for yourself, and it's been that way with Sean from elementary school and then Harry from middle school and then Nick and then Malex and will be my curse and blessing until the day I die, to have and then nothave male friends. And with Nick since 9th grade I've given so much of his friendship away to Bivalves and Drama and that Bard Who's Been Dead for 400 Years and Naomi and Abby and Allie and Lizzie and Julia and Re-Lizzie and an unremitting parade of female attentions that no part of him is hardly mine anymore so that I don't care where the rest goes, though I may feel some pain like when they've given you a shot and pull the needle out. But the point here is that this little bit of pain upon removal makes me hallucinate that I like someone, In That Way, and this is usually an illusion that does not last very long.
Wednesday, May 21, 2003
I'm kind of discouraged. You'd think with everything over, I'd be happy, but I don't really feel anything. I just don't know what to do. Elation never besets me at the end of events... I start feeling happy maybe two weeks into the middle of the summer when everyone else just starts to get bored.
I will quote Malex from his blog, who was paraphrasing quoting me.. a roundabout way of expressing myself which is kind of like trying to move around in a room by only watching reflections in a mirror. But I haven't a better way to say it or rather, since I think we all could write beautifully if we so chose, I don't care quite enough right now to really say what I mean.
"I don't want a job. I shall sit and have a Zen Summer. Summer is peaceful. I have no desires and no tasks."
I think I'm the only one like that. I don't know. But right now, the petty and the boring things fill my life like graininess in film, so that I can neither feel nor think as purely and passionately as I wish.
I've started reading books again, for fun. It may help. Am reading "Deerskin" by Robin McKinley which is kind of creepy.. it's disturbing in that I can't quite figure out what's disturbing about it so that everytime I try to figure it out it makes less sense like shadows in the corner of your eye that flick away when you look at them. It's a very girly book- it's about a princess, and therefore so far, princessy things. No action so to speak of but the suspense comes in not quite knowing where that dissonant and off-kilter feeling comes from of things being not quite right. There's a queen who is the most beautiful woman in the world beloved by all her people, and the great love for her by her husband, and it's a beautiful story but of course the queen dies of illness and it's all very classical and tragic. Except it's also very very creepy. Because beauty itself is a form of power except that very few people think to recognize it as such (especially men who think of power in very concrete terms, but that's a gross generalization). And any woman who captures the feverish and almost demonic adoration and rapture of a crowd has raised herself to godhead, and it seems to me at least just a wee bit creepy anyone who'd indulge and wallow in it and quietly cultivate her own cult of personality and wrap her entire self into her identity as the most beautiful woman of the seven kingdoms, even after death. Yeah, just a wee bit creepy. And perhaps the princess is afraid of growing up to look just like her mother because she will, in the course of that development, become her mother and the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms, but lose herself in all the false idolatry and the love of a nation directed towards someone who she is not. But of course the queen was wise and virtuous by all accounts, if the NPCs are to be believed, and though everyone in the book finds the queen kind of creepy, nobody will ever admit to thinking it because We All Love the Queen, right?
The beginning chapters are told by narration so that the story is told, not shown, so that you never get a sense that the characters are real people instead of people out of a book or song, as you hear of their amazing feats and vows of love and astounding beauty and eccentric last wishes ... but never really know who they are (except for the people of the Sixth Kingdom who are mentioned briefly but disparaged by most people as being poor and stupid, but personally I think that anyone who makes quilts by hand and jam preserves and remembers to give puppies to little girls for their birthdays, and any king who'd rather settle for a kind and loving, though thick-legged, wife over The Most Beautiful Woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and any prince who's willing to muck about in his own kennels and write his own letters personally can't be all that bad and sound a whole lot better than all this Love and Death and Eternal Vows craziness). But as you get further in, the narrator and trappings of fairy tale lyricism begin to fall away until all you get is the viewpoint of the princess, which is rather like that of a teenage girl of any era, and warm and comforting in that way. But when the 'high style' of the early chapters manifests itself on occasion the creepiness level rises and I think around the corner I will find with the high passion and turmoil and tragedy also deep madness and violence to come...
But.. this is purely a guess behind the motivations of random characters, and a whole nation of fictional people, so that I'm psychoanalyzing a crowd. How rare it is that fantasy makes you think about what it means.
Saw Spiderman with Malex at my house. Thought it was stupider the second time around, or at least when it's not on the big screen. Found again, though, that the teenage awkwardness was very endearing.
Something ELSE:
I think the whole flower thing is rather absurd, given that one person has ordered. That in itself is not unusual; I had nine cards.. so one in nine ordered, which I think is a better number of buyers to number of advertisements ratio than many products, including spam mail where the number of buyers to number of advertisement rate is like one in a million. So that is not strange at all. But if you think about it, the cost of printing all those business cards (the cost of the paper alone is probably prohibitive) and the time spent in coming up with the list is probably much greater than what all the profits gained by an $8 flower is worth. And of course we must subtract the cost of the actual flower, the ordering and delivery.. It's worse than minimal wage, it is. It makes me think that people complaining about the greed of businesses perhaps don't remember that most of the time businesses seem to be a highly unprofitable venue.
I will quote Malex from his blog, who was paraphrasing quoting me.. a roundabout way of expressing myself which is kind of like trying to move around in a room by only watching reflections in a mirror. But I haven't a better way to say it or rather, since I think we all could write beautifully if we so chose, I don't care quite enough right now to really say what I mean.
"I don't want a job. I shall sit and have a Zen Summer. Summer is peaceful. I have no desires and no tasks."
I think I'm the only one like that. I don't know. But right now, the petty and the boring things fill my life like graininess in film, so that I can neither feel nor think as purely and passionately as I wish.
I've started reading books again, for fun. It may help. Am reading "Deerskin" by Robin McKinley which is kind of creepy.. it's disturbing in that I can't quite figure out what's disturbing about it so that everytime I try to figure it out it makes less sense like shadows in the corner of your eye that flick away when you look at them. It's a very girly book- it's about a princess, and therefore so far, princessy things. No action so to speak of but the suspense comes in not quite knowing where that dissonant and off-kilter feeling comes from of things being not quite right. There's a queen who is the most beautiful woman in the world beloved by all her people, and the great love for her by her husband, and it's a beautiful story but of course the queen dies of illness and it's all very classical and tragic. Except it's also very very creepy. Because beauty itself is a form of power except that very few people think to recognize it as such (especially men who think of power in very concrete terms, but that's a gross generalization). And any woman who captures the feverish and almost demonic adoration and rapture of a crowd has raised herself to godhead, and it seems to me at least just a wee bit creepy anyone who'd indulge and wallow in it and quietly cultivate her own cult of personality and wrap her entire self into her identity as the most beautiful woman of the seven kingdoms, even after death. Yeah, just a wee bit creepy. And perhaps the princess is afraid of growing up to look just like her mother because she will, in the course of that development, become her mother and the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms, but lose herself in all the false idolatry and the love of a nation directed towards someone who she is not. But of course the queen was wise and virtuous by all accounts, if the NPCs are to be believed, and though everyone in the book finds the queen kind of creepy, nobody will ever admit to thinking it because We All Love the Queen, right?
The beginning chapters are told by narration so that the story is told, not shown, so that you never get a sense that the characters are real people instead of people out of a book or song, as you hear of their amazing feats and vows of love and astounding beauty and eccentric last wishes ... but never really know who they are (except for the people of the Sixth Kingdom who are mentioned briefly but disparaged by most people as being poor and stupid, but personally I think that anyone who makes quilts by hand and jam preserves and remembers to give puppies to little girls for their birthdays, and any king who'd rather settle for a kind and loving, though thick-legged, wife over The Most Beautiful Woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and any prince who's willing to muck about in his own kennels and write his own letters personally can't be all that bad and sound a whole lot better than all this Love and Death and Eternal Vows craziness). But as you get further in, the narrator and trappings of fairy tale lyricism begin to fall away until all you get is the viewpoint of the princess, which is rather like that of a teenage girl of any era, and warm and comforting in that way. But when the 'high style' of the early chapters manifests itself on occasion the creepiness level rises and I think around the corner I will find with the high passion and turmoil and tragedy also deep madness and violence to come...
But.. this is purely a guess behind the motivations of random characters, and a whole nation of fictional people, so that I'm psychoanalyzing a crowd. How rare it is that fantasy makes you think about what it means.
Saw Spiderman with Malex at my house. Thought it was stupider the second time around, or at least when it's not on the big screen. Found again, though, that the teenage awkwardness was very endearing.
Something ELSE:
I think the whole flower thing is rather absurd, given that one person has ordered. That in itself is not unusual; I had nine cards.. so one in nine ordered, which I think is a better number of buyers to number of advertisements ratio than many products, including spam mail where the number of buyers to number of advertisement rate is like one in a million. So that is not strange at all. But if you think about it, the cost of printing all those business cards (the cost of the paper alone is probably prohibitive) and the time spent in coming up with the list is probably much greater than what all the profits gained by an $8 flower is worth. And of course we must subtract the cost of the actual flower, the ordering and delivery.. It's worse than minimal wage, it is. It makes me think that people complaining about the greed of businesses perhaps don't remember that most of the time businesses seem to be a highly unprofitable venue.
Tuesday, May 20, 2003
Beyond Imaginations, Inc.
Prom 2003
Boutonnieres (with greenery)
One Rose $8
Two Roses $12
One Vanda Hybrid Orchid* $10
Three Vanda Hybrid Orchids* $14
Corsages (with greenery, assorted flowers and ribbon)
One Rose $12
Two Roses $16
Two Vanda Hybrid Orchids* $14
Three Vanda Hybrid Orchids* $16
Wrist Corsages (with greenery, assorted flowers and ribbon)
Two Roses $18
Three Roses $22
Three Vanda Hybrid Orchids* $20
Four Vanda Hybrid Orchids* $24
*See sample orchid boutonniere on the front of the brochure.
Please place your order with Angela before 3 pm on May 21, 2003 (Wednesday). For roses, specify a color such as red, pink, yellow, vanilla, etc. For orchids, choose red or purple only. If you are interested in designs besides those listed above, please contact us directly.
Oh, ja. "See sample orchid boutonniere on the front of the brochure" if I gave you a brochure. Obviously, if I didn't give you one you'll just have to go to the website to get an idea of what's there, or use your imagination. ^__^
Also: Totally random, but I am watching the Matrix with Nick B sometime on Wednesday, probably after school. Talk to me about that too.
Leave orders here, or by AIM, by e-mail, and by phone if you have my number. If you don't... well, I'm not putting my number out online.
Prom 2003
Boutonnieres (with greenery)
One Rose $8
Two Roses $12
One Vanda Hybrid Orchid* $10
Three Vanda Hybrid Orchids* $14
Corsages (with greenery, assorted flowers and ribbon)
One Rose $12
Two Roses $16
Two Vanda Hybrid Orchids* $14
Three Vanda Hybrid Orchids* $16
Wrist Corsages (with greenery, assorted flowers and ribbon)
Two Roses $18
Three Roses $22
Three Vanda Hybrid Orchids* $20
Four Vanda Hybrid Orchids* $24
*See sample orchid boutonniere on the front of the brochure.
Please place your order with Angela before 3 pm on May 21, 2003 (Wednesday). For roses, specify a color such as red, pink, yellow, vanilla, etc. For orchids, choose red or purple only. If you are interested in designs besides those listed above, please contact us directly.
Oh, ja. "See sample orchid boutonniere on the front of the brochure" if I gave you a brochure. Obviously, if I didn't give you one you'll just have to go to the website to get an idea of what's there, or use your imagination. ^__^
Also: Totally random, but I am watching the Matrix with Nick B sometime on Wednesday, probably after school. Talk to me about that too.
Leave orders here, or by AIM, by e-mail, and by phone if you have my number. If you don't... well, I'm not putting my number out online.
Monday, May 19, 2003
Prom Peeps, Read
My sister Stella arranges boutonnieres and corsages and whatnot. Please buy from her if you're into that stuff for prom anyhow. On a side note, it's kind of amusing that all the pictures on the website are from Maggie's wedding, and I still have some of the silk flowers lying around my house somewhere if you want an actual example, but anyhow. They are very nice, but I'm partial.
Boutonnieres starting at $8
Corsages starting at $12
Wrist corsages starting from $18
Hand-Held Nosegays starting from $25
My sister and the main designer are coming up with a list of popular designs and prices so that if you want something from there you can just tell me instead of having to call them, write a check to Beyond Imaginations Inc., and I'll make your orders for you and give you your flowers at Tragara's. If you have something more specific in mind that's not on the list, you can call at (301) 603-8997, or fax at (301) 603-8816.
I have nice and colorful business cards too that I'll annoyingly pass out to people tomorrow. Malex and Silvia have already been inflicted with them.
(There. I've done my family duty. Ever so helpful as always.)
My sister Stella arranges boutonnieres and corsages and whatnot. Please buy from her if you're into that stuff for prom anyhow. On a side note, it's kind of amusing that all the pictures on the website are from Maggie's wedding, and I still have some of the silk flowers lying around my house somewhere if you want an actual example, but anyhow. They are very nice, but I'm partial.
Boutonnieres starting at $8
Corsages starting at $12
Wrist corsages starting from $18
Hand-Held Nosegays starting from $25
My sister and the main designer are coming up with a list of popular designs and prices so that if you want something from there you can just tell me instead of having to call them, write a check to Beyond Imaginations Inc., and I'll make your orders for you and give you your flowers at Tragara's. If you have something more specific in mind that's not on the list, you can call at (301) 603-8997, or fax at (301) 603-8816.
I have nice and colorful business cards too that I'll annoyingly pass out to people tomorrow. Malex and Silvia have already been inflicted with them.
(There. I've done my family duty. Ever so helpful as always.)
I changed my template, because while the rounded corners and messed up html were cute, I'd like to be able to put a bunch of links on the side of my blog. Whereas in my old template all my links were on top, so you had to scroll past them to see my posts. Also, Lizzie made her new blog with my old template, so...
Though for old time's sake you can see the old template in my archives, and of course, there's still messed up html.
Though for old time's sake you can see the old template in my archives, and of course, there's still messed up html.
Sunday, May 18, 2003
Saturday, May 17, 2003
I thought it was funny that Warrior Challenge was mocked on Leno. It's the "PBS version of Jackass."
Oh, also. I'm happy that fencing was moved from 5:30 on Fridays to 6:30. It's a smaller, more experienced group... I caught the tail of the 5:30 group, which was a bunch of hyperactive kids who were treated like idiots, for good reason. ("Put your sword down before you take off your mask for safety..") The good part about being in the 6:30 group is that you get more individual attention. It's beginner II and I got my ass kicked by seven year olds. I was the only girl there. There was an old woman there, though that term is unfair as it really makes her sound more senile than she was because she was very experienced and much better than I. But since I was doing drills with more experienced fencers they could correct me, even when the teacher wasn't paying attention to our pair. It does make me feel over the hill though.. nobody (nobody good anyways) starts fencing at the age of 18. He'll earn faster than me, and in many ways he is my teacher. He (the pre-pubescent kid I was fencing with) has a brother in fencing, and fencing gear at home, and if they wish to they can bout every day, so if they keep at it, by the time they are my age, they will be amazing athletes. It makes me kind of sad. Though from the actual teacher's reprimands they must bicker more than they practice. Ah.. youth.
I don't know how to hold a foil (Damn you, French grip!). By the end of class I had to peel my fingers off of the handle because they were molded in there. I miss my po' pistol grip, which is much easier to hold but apparently lacks the finesse of a French grip.. :( Of course this is a lot more "real"... I'm glad also that we were dry fencing (without the electric hookup to the scoring system). You focus more on the fencing and less on the scoring, or the cable trailing out of your ass. And I had forgotten how much masks restrict your vision though I was glad for them; I kept hitting my opponent in the mask, because I have the point control of a manatee (Damn you, pistol grip training!). Also, I hadn't the faintest clue what the teacher meant when she was like.. "Straight parry 6, riposte!" "Parry 4, riposte!" "Disengage!" "1, 2 combination!" It's not like I've never learned this in DCFC, but I'd forgotten, especially the names. It's not like bicycling, where you never forget. Apparently, 6 is an attack of your opponent's chest area (if your opponent's torso were theoretically divided into quadrants) close to the sword arm and 4 is the chest area farther from the sword arm. But at DCFC I'd simply been taught that one was an "outside" parry (4), one was an "inside" parry (6), or for all practical purposes, either clockwise (4) or counterclockwise (6). But this way of thinking really screws you over when you are, like me, fencing a lefty, in which case it's all reversed, with the outside parry clockwise being 6 and the inside parry counterclockwise being 4. (Damn you, lefties!) Unless you're doing a "1,2 combination" which is actually a combination of 4,6.. or is it 6,4...? It boggles the mind. To make things even more confusing, even if you know exactly how to do all of the above, you may not necessarily (and most of the time won't) succeed in hitting your opponent anyhow. Like in doing a 1,2 combination.. it relies on your opponent being bluffed into moving their arm to defend against an attack in 4, and then you attack them in 6 instead and go, "Haha, sucker!" It's a feint of some sort. But since we're doing drills.. your opponent knows exactly what you're doing and isn't all that surprised. I've only been faster than this seven year old kid like once or twice. To my credit, he had a hard time with me too, but I think that's only because it's not that I'm great, it's just that I'm too stupid to be feinted against in the first place.
Also: I think that parry 4 is retarded.
I did additional drilling after I came home for an hour or so, fencing my music stand, so I think I understand this now. But during class I was very confused.
Oh, also. I'm happy that fencing was moved from 5:30 on Fridays to 6:30. It's a smaller, more experienced group... I caught the tail of the 5:30 group, which was a bunch of hyperactive kids who were treated like idiots, for good reason. ("Put your sword down before you take off your mask for safety..") The good part about being in the 6:30 group is that you get more individual attention. It's beginner II and I got my ass kicked by seven year olds. I was the only girl there. There was an old woman there, though that term is unfair as it really makes her sound more senile than she was because she was very experienced and much better than I. But since I was doing drills with more experienced fencers they could correct me, even when the teacher wasn't paying attention to our pair. It does make me feel over the hill though.. nobody (nobody good anyways) starts fencing at the age of 18. He'll earn faster than me, and in many ways he is my teacher. He (the pre-pubescent kid I was fencing with) has a brother in fencing, and fencing gear at home, and if they wish to they can bout every day, so if they keep at it, by the time they are my age, they will be amazing athletes. It makes me kind of sad. Though from the actual teacher's reprimands they must bicker more than they practice. Ah.. youth.
I don't know how to hold a foil (Damn you, French grip!). By the end of class I had to peel my fingers off of the handle because they were molded in there. I miss my po' pistol grip, which is much easier to hold but apparently lacks the finesse of a French grip.. :( Of course this is a lot more "real"... I'm glad also that we were dry fencing (without the electric hookup to the scoring system). You focus more on the fencing and less on the scoring, or the cable trailing out of your ass. And I had forgotten how much masks restrict your vision though I was glad for them; I kept hitting my opponent in the mask, because I have the point control of a manatee (Damn you, pistol grip training!). Also, I hadn't the faintest clue what the teacher meant when she was like.. "Straight parry 6, riposte!" "Parry 4, riposte!" "Disengage!" "1, 2 combination!" It's not like I've never learned this in DCFC, but I'd forgotten, especially the names. It's not like bicycling, where you never forget. Apparently, 6 is an attack of your opponent's chest area (if your opponent's torso were theoretically divided into quadrants) close to the sword arm and 4 is the chest area farther from the sword arm. But at DCFC I'd simply been taught that one was an "outside" parry (4), one was an "inside" parry (6), or for all practical purposes, either clockwise (4) or counterclockwise (6). But this way of thinking really screws you over when you are, like me, fencing a lefty, in which case it's all reversed, with the outside parry clockwise being 6 and the inside parry counterclockwise being 4. (Damn you, lefties!) Unless you're doing a "1,2 combination" which is actually a combination of 4,6.. or is it 6,4...? It boggles the mind. To make things even more confusing, even if you know exactly how to do all of the above, you may not necessarily (and most of the time won't) succeed in hitting your opponent anyhow. Like in doing a 1,2 combination.. it relies on your opponent being bluffed into moving their arm to defend against an attack in 4, and then you attack them in 6 instead and go, "Haha, sucker!" It's a feint of some sort. But since we're doing drills.. your opponent knows exactly what you're doing and isn't all that surprised. I've only been faster than this seven year old kid like once or twice. To my credit, he had a hard time with me too, but I think that's only because it's not that I'm great, it's just that I'm too stupid to be feinted against in the first place.
Also: I think that parry 4 is retarded.
I did additional drilling after I came home for an hour or so, fencing my music stand, so I think I understand this now. But during class I was very confused.
Friday, May 16, 2003
I've never seen Boromir so pretty.
Obviously, as you can tell by now, all this free time is putting me on a fantasy art kick.
Obviously, as you can tell by now, all this free time is putting me on a fantasy art kick.
Me and Malex kind of tried to get a group together to see the Matrix. But Andrew couldn't go later than 12:00pm because of piano lessons at 3 and everyone else had already seen it or had some rehearsal of some sort, mostly Shakespeare or Resonance or whatnot, so it kind of fell flat. Dena is organizing a trip to see it Saturday night. I'm really impressed with her vast amounts of group-organizing.
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
It's so seldom done well that I really appreciate it when it is.
Proof that I am straight and there are indeed boys I do like.
Nicely drawn wind; a fair test of the artist's pen is to see how well she draws something that's invisible.
I'm amazed that someone drew him. Hurrah! Very nicely not bishonnen; stalwart, direct, and not liable to be snapped like a twig. He's not at all unpleasant on the eyes, either. Hm. Mm. *contemplate.* I need to form a Not Bishonnen webring.
It's art. Probably not what I ought to be looking at, but I'm impressed with the hand for some reason.
Galadriel and Celeborn looking 100% better than their movie counterparts.
I like Eomer in one of the other pictures, but We Don't Need To See That. Mwee. He eats silly bishonnen boys for breakfast.
Proof that I am straight and there are indeed boys I do like.
Nicely drawn wind; a fair test of the artist's pen is to see how well she draws something that's invisible.
I'm amazed that someone drew him. Hurrah! Very nicely not bishonnen; stalwart, direct, and not liable to be snapped like a twig. He's not at all unpleasant on the eyes, either. Hm. Mm. *contemplate.* I need to form a Not Bishonnen webring.
It's art. Probably not what I ought to be looking at, but I'm impressed with the hand for some reason.
Galadriel and Celeborn looking 100% better than their movie counterparts.
I like Eomer in one of the other pictures, but We Don't Need To See That. Mwee. He eats silly bishonnen boys for breakfast.
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
That was a sucky episode of Warrior Challenge (Knights). I was disappointed; there wasn't anything I didn't know already and the info was fairly general. (Of course, there'll be stuff you don't know already because y'all aren't knight freaks, so you watch it still. It's on tomorrow at 11PM and Sunday at 2:30PM.) The contestants this time around lacked oomph. It's always best when you have US airmen... the British police are kind of boring. Can't blame them though; how rowdy can two people get? Romans was better, also, because they actually had a bunch of guys living in the barracks, cooking their own pork and lentils, washing their own dishes, bitching about their underwear and lack of socks and too-tight chainmail, brushing their teeth with Roman toothpaste ("Mmm... minty!"), scrubbing their own armor, laying the gatehouse siege smackdown on each other, charging in formation, harassing innocent civilians, going on long marches and hitting the bath house and tavern circuit like they were Roman soldiers. It was the Roman soldier reality show and reeked of Roman coolness.
With all due credit to the filmmakers, who tried to make the whole tourney thing look as dramatic as possible, Knights was just like.. Renfest on tape. But without the fire eaters, genial but potbellied old men in kilts, drunken fat goth chicks, over-exposed old women in crushed velvet, pasty teenagers in brass chainmail bikinis and people yelling "Huzzah!" every 15 seconds. Granted it had its moments (armored knights doing pushups and jumping jacks to the theme from "Rocky," ... knight-tipping... , "I need my inhaler..") but for the most part, it just did not reek of knightly coolness.
With all due credit to the filmmakers, who tried to make the whole tourney thing look as dramatic as possible, Knights was just like.. Renfest on tape. But without the fire eaters, genial but potbellied old men in kilts, drunken fat goth chicks, over-exposed old women in crushed velvet, pasty teenagers in brass chainmail bikinis and people yelling "Huzzah!" every 15 seconds. Granted it had its moments (armored knights doing pushups and jumping jacks to the theme from "Rocky," ... knight-tipping... , "I need my inhaler..") but for the most part, it just did not reek of knightly coolness.
I thought I was screwed for the history exam, but then Cathy told me Turkey counts as a middle eastern country as well as a European country, and Malex told me the Armenians are technically a religious group since the people oppressed are Armenian Christians. If I'm vague enough I just might get away with grouping them as an Oppressed Religious Minority, like the Jews. Either, way, it's over with and I don't care.
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