Saturday, Computerless Saturday

The fact that somebody found this blog by Google-ing (Googling? Googleing?) the lyrics to “Camptown Races” entertains me greatly.

So guess what Internet? I am going to try to live without you aaaaallllll day Saturday. I might fail as I’ll possibly need to Fandango, am still trying to get tons of grad school stuff accomplished, and really am sort of flying by the seat of my pants for my upcoming trip to Costa Rica. Shut Down Day amuses me though, because it’s just seeing if you can turn off your personal computer for a day. Sure, I can probably live with that and you likely can too. But can you live without computers period? Maybe if you sleep all day. Better not switch on your lights unless you know your electric company does not have their switchboards computerized. Don’t you dare get sick and need to go to the doctor, where they will certainly use a computer to check if you are insured, and potentially to call up your records as well! Better not drive either, because those traffic lights? Synced with the help of our friend the computer. In answer to their Big Question, “if they disappeared for just one day, would we be able to cope?” I posit no.

See, this entry is a great example of why I am so much better at Livejournal: I don’t think out posts before I make them. I just write my uninformed opinions the second I form them. Forethought? Afterthought? Proofreading? Puh-leaze.

Got My Money on a Bobtail Nag, Somebody Bet on the Bay

Never let me develop a habit for the ponies.

This can be read many ways.

1) Never let me pick up on Rebecca’s sick fascination with My Little Ponies.
2) Stop me from going all Alan Strang on nearby livestock.
3) Prevent me from unwittingly feasting on equine flesh while visiting other countries/exotic restaurants.
*4) DO NOT ALLOW ME  TO BET ON SPORTING EVENTS BECAUSE I SUCK AT IT. I SUCK AT IT A LOT.

Please consider the preceding four points to be your new mission in life. (If you do, I predict you will have an astoundingly successful life.)

A Phone Call With My Italian Grandmother, Who Incidentally Betrothed Me To Someone Whose Name She Did (and Still Does) Not Know When I Was But a Fetus

Me: “Hello?”
Nana: “Oh hello. Is my other granddaughter there?”
Me: “No she’s not home yet. Do you want me to let her know you called?”
Nana: “Yes please. I know she’s home and I haven’t gotten to see her! Not that I get to see you very often either…”
Me: “Yea I know. But I will tell her you called and I’m sure we’ll all get together soon!”
Nana: “Good. Because I want to know if she’s seen M. (her ex) at all.”
Me: “I don’t know if she has. He hasn’t been around here.”
Nana: “Oh, that’s too bad. Because I liked him, apparently. (A/N: She did not.) But then, I liked the old M. too.”
Me: “Yea, they’re both good guys.”
Nana: “And I want to ask her about it, because I know she’ll always tell me. She’s very open about her life.”
Me: “Yea, she’s pretty open.”
Nana: “And I don’t like to pry. You know I don’t like to pry.”
Me: “Of course not.”
Nana: “So I like that she shares these things with me. I like hearing about it.”
Me: “She’s a good girl, that Meri.”
Nana: “Oh definitely.”
Me: “Well, I’ll tell her you called. Love you!”
Nana: “Love you too. Goodbye now.”
Me: “Bye.”

For the record, in her book I hit Old Maid status at some point in 2005. There is still some hope for Meri though, as she is not quite 20.

The Universal Curatorial Impulse: An Excercise in Futility

I am trying trying trying to write my personal statement for grad school. I only have about 120 words. The problems? Well, laziness and procrastination spring to mind, but there are actually two main ones:

1) You might not be able to tell from this blog, but I don’t like talking about myself. I can blog because I have a highly developed tendency towards self-deprecation; I can talk about myself if I am talking shit. I can’t brag, except if I am being sarcastic and giving myself left-handed compliments. I really don’t think I am lacking anything in the self-esteem department, but writing 1000 words about how awesome I am and how I plan to revolutionize the field of museum studies? Not my forte.

2) I WANT TO TALK ABOUT THE UNIVERSAL CURATORIAL IMPULSE. This is my current theory on life, the universe, and everything. It is nebulous at best, but it is my pet theory and I want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about my internships and classes and where I see myself in 10 years, I want to spew BS! I want to write an essay, not a personal statement!

All that said, Jesus is going to have to wait for his sucker punch. Sorry, James Cameron.