tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33910762616026314762024-03-19T14:42:21.516-05:00Slanted Rants From Yours UnrulyCandicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-43074727508034724312009-03-30T19:54:00.003-05:002009-03-30T20:22:46.526-05:00My Ode to Fried Pickles<center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDg2ymSkOYhCnUkIjgj3A9wWfe8DaVKR_smUkIqySS5if8eloOX8PueJXVvJJTxpS9LkxNOLeZV79awn-rcjn0DQDPT1Q7Uc55eUFLuzKJwW77Qli1HlAW0dGQPNPG5k7wU7mj6zcpz6YE/s1600/pickles.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDg2ymSkOYhCnUkIjgj3A9wWfe8DaVKR_smUkIqySS5if8eloOX8PueJXVvJJTxpS9LkxNOLeZV79awn-rcjn0DQDPT1Q7Uc55eUFLuzKJwW77Qli1HlAW0dGQPNPG5k7wU7mj6zcpz6YE/s1600/pickles.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a></center><br /><br /><center>You were once a cucumber,<br />You were once some flour,<br />Together, you're quite a number,<br />Quite a power.<br /><br />After the dilling...<br />And after the frying...<br />The taste in my mouth so filling,<br />one bite leads to sighing.<br /><br />In the form of slices or spears,<br />you can bring a grown woman to tears.<br />You give my appetite the tickles,<br />Oh, how I love you, fried pickles.</center><br /><br /><br /><br />Haha, I am not a poet. And I figure out the best ways to procrastinate!<br /><br />----------------<br />Now playing: <a href="http://www.foxytunes.com/artist/rufus+wainwright/track/zing!+went+the+strings+of+my+heart">Rufus Wainwright - Zing! Went The Strings Of My Heart</a><br />via <a href="http://www.foxytunes.com/signatunes/">FoxyTunes</a>Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-5323062861613233032009-03-22T15:46:00.003-05:002009-03-22T18:41:08.817-05:00Reflections on RAOKR.A.O.K. -- also known as Random Acts of Kindness. I promote them. But rarely do I like to talk about my own. Talking about the random acts of kindness you personally do, I believe, can undermine the act itself. What I mean by this is that I feel that by telling others about the moments when you do something kind for someone at random one can easily slide into a moment of hedonism -- a moment of boasting about your perceived innate kindness, rather than an opportunity to inspire others to follow suite. To avoid falling into this self-tooting of one's horn, I prefer to keep these stories to myself. Seeing as how I love to talk and share my life stories (or something that loosely resembles a story, because who am I kidding? I babble a lot), I consciously choose to avoid talking about the RAOK I do. After almost every instance of a RAOK, I find myself falling into an intense state of self-reflexivity. This state I more often than not move into is more than likely the reason I prefer to keep my RAOK to myself. A recent RAOK I did occurred about a month ago, and it has lingered in my mind longer than usual. Therefore, I am momentarily forgoing my habitual ways of not sharing my RAOK. This isn't necessarily to attempt to inspire someone or make someone think about something in a different way -- I am really doing it for more selfish reasons. Writing it out enables me to re-digest it. <br /><br />Enough with the disclaimer. About a month ago I was crossing Guadalupe, the drag that runs on the Westside of campus directly next to CMA, on a mission for food. Heading north en route to feed my face with something yummy from Spicy Pickle, I was stopped by a girl probably about my age for money to buy something to eat at Jack-in-The-Box -- a common occurrence not only in Austin, but particularly on the drag. When one hungry stomach meets another I sympathize, for I am sure she was much more famished than I. Seeing as how I am a firm believer in seeing the outcome of your investments -- that is to say, I am hesitant to celebrate the act of money donations, I offered to buy her lunch, instead of giving her my spare change. She agreed. And without hesitation, we walked into Jack-in-The-Box. We briefly chatted while in line, and I told her she could order whatever she wanted. When it was our turn to order, she asked for some breakfast tacos and a shake. After some playful banter with the energetic black transgendered woman taking out order, I told the girl that I was going to head out and that I hope she enjoys her meal. After moments of silence from both of us, my social anxiety kicked in, and so I decided to leave. I smiled, said goodbye, and walked out the door. Patting myself on the back, I felt happy to at the very least fill her stomach and at the most give her hope that someone -- even a stranger -- can care about her. And so, I bounded across the street in the direction of the Spicy Pickle. Arriving at my destination hungry and happy, I swung open the door in anticipation to fill my own stomach and immediately the hunger pain shifted to a nauseating sickness. Never before had I experienced so consciously my class position. The scents, sights, and people were significantly different from the space of the Jack-in-The-Box. Instead of a black transgendered woman standing behind the register, it was a straight-edged, white girl taking orders while clean-cut (by Austin standards this means well-maintained facial hair) white dudes preparing the food behind her -- as opposed to the predominantly Hispanic employees at Jack-in-The-Box. I never felt a more overwhelming feeling of guilt. Here I am an upper-to-middle class graduate student at the University of Texas attempting to make someone's day by giving them food and maybe some hope in a greasy paper bag. For someone who spends her days critiquing capitalism and it's spawn: gluttonous consumption and taboo class issues, here I was blatantly participating in it by performing my class identity. Often, I do indeed realize and reflect upon my own privileged position, but words really cannot describe the overwhelming feeling that came over me the moment I walked into Spicy Pickle. I seriously felt physically ill -- a wall of privilege knocked the wind out of me. <br /><br />So, after replaying this scenario out in my head and reflecting upon my actions and the girl I met that day, I am left in a state of total distraught. One thing this experience did was snap me out of sleepwalking through my life as a privileged individual. Undeniably, I don't think about this everyday nor through every action I make, but I certainly have more moments of awareness because of it. As a woman with an often ambiguously read racial and ethnic identity, I think I can easily slip into a mode of being where I easily and sometimes aggressively point to occurrences in my life experiences that exemplify how I have been easily slotted into a not-so privileged position. It gives people some amount of social capital to talk about how they come from something or somewhere not-so-great to a position of higher privilege, but continue to encounter moments of some kind of -ism (racism, sexism, etc.). Grappling with all of this can be quite exhausting. While this whole experience can easily allow me to say to hell with doing anything like this again, I'd rather not completely disregard my act. Keeping this experience in mind brings a new layer of awareness to anything and everything I decide to do -- particularly when it comes to RAOK. What ever the underlying politics may be from doing such acts, there's something inexplicable and potentially powerful about giving someone your time and, thus, cultivating the opportunity for an exchange of smiles and dialogue (no matter how awkward your social anxiety makes it) to occur between strangers.Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-25801115697683555082009-01-11T02:26:00.001-06:002009-01-11T02:27:47.579-06:00Mister Rogers is kind of a badass...although he'd probably never refer to himself as one. :)<br /><br /><a href="http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/wayoflife/07/28/mf.mrrogers.neighbor/index.html?imw=Y&iref=mpstoryemail">This</a> made my night...Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-62147323670410128312008-11-24T22:48:00.002-06:002008-11-24T23:10:54.239-06:00It's Funny How Things Happen...After making the decision tonight to slip into my pjs, cuddle up with a book, and go to bed tonight to rise early and do work, I decided to pick up my journal from the summer I spent studying in Paris. I began to read the last few entries and feel compelled to copy word for word my last entry (albeit it very fragmented -- it was hand written). These last few weeks have been tiresome for me, and I have come to realize the excess worrying and emotions that have engulfed my life and, therefore, ability to remain positive about basically everything. Unfortunately, I have seen the manifestations of this negativeness. Therefore, tonight I made the conscious decision to shift my train of thought. And I would never imagine that it would be my own words that would give me the strength I so desperately was seeking. It's quite funny how things happen...<br /><br /><br />July 2005<br /><br />So it's my last night here. I don't want to fall asleep. I really feel so sad I'm leaving tomorrow. Being here has been so amazing. Living with this family and taking classes... really feeling at ease in this city has been incredible. I really don't want to fall asleep tonight to wake up and have to leave. The past few days I have really been excited to go home, but now that it's here all I want to do is stay longer. I love this city. I cannot wait to come back. I have learned so much. I couldn't say what all I have learned, bc it is indescribable. I wish so badly that I ha the ability to remember everything I saw, touched, and smelled. Even the stinky Metros. I want to remember the way this house smells. The blind man and his dog T saw almost everyday on my way to IES. The awesome boulangerie sandwiches. Note to self: put hard-boiled eggs on sandwiches. I want to remember the feelings I had when I first saw the Eiffel Tower from the Metro. I want to remember the Rose 9 Euro and Monsieur Miel... and the creme brulee I had. I want to remember the people at IES and the awesome food we had at the farewell lunch... my teachers Sophie and Jeanne. My Franglais. My caramel tea in the mornings. And the morning I dropped the jar of coffee on the floor... how horrible the showers were... the noises throughout the building...my comfy bed...the beauty of Sacre Coeur...the expensive nights out...these mixed emotions...puking in the IES garden after drinking a plastic bottle of wine...being so happy to feel like I bonded with my family one last night or time...walking down the street listening to people speak and how I can understand most of it. Seeing the Eiffel Tower sparkle makes you feel giddy...meeting people here...all different types of people...people who I have learned to tolerate and who made me think about myself. And the girls that I have truly become great friends with -- these girls that I can say or do anything with. They have been amazing. I am so lucky to have done this. I kept thinking tonight at I watched the show at the party about how I am so damn luck and there has to be someone up there who really loves me and is giving me days like today that can make me feel this way. I feel like I have it all. And if there comes a time when I'm not like this or do not feel like this I should know and have faith that a day like today will come again...because these amazing days do happen...Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-11208259631722723642008-11-19T23:29:00.002-06:002008-11-19T23:42:46.908-06:00Tattooed Under Fire<span style="font-style:italic;">Tattooed Under Fire</span> is a documentary by UT Prof. Nancy Schiesari that tells reveals the significance of tattoo work for a number of US soldiers before and after their Iraqi deployment. I had the amazing opportunity to work as her GRA (graduate research assistant) last semester on post-production projects for the film project. One of which was a short video profile for the tattoo artist Brannon Grant that can now be seen on the website. If you get the opportunity to see the film, I highly recommend it. It is powerful and portrays an important perspective. Check out the website <a href="http://tattooedunderfire.com/">Tattooed Under Fire </a>and watch my clip! You can find it on the "Video Extras" page.Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-62126584890001423492008-10-30T00:24:00.005-05:002008-10-30T11:06:45.738-05:00QuirkyAlone<a href="http://quirkyalone.net/index.php">QuirkAlone</a> may be the outlet and arena I have been looking for. I'd rather not butcher the mission statement of this site, so here's their "About Us" page:<br /><br /><br />Who We Are<br /><br />Quirkyalones are people who enjoy being single (but are not opposed to being in a relationship) and prefer being single to dating for the sake of being in a relationship.<br /><br />Quirkyalone is not anti-love. It is <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">pro-love</span></span>. It is not anti-dating. It is anti-compulsory dating. We tend to be romantics. We <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">prefer to be single rather than settle</span></span>. In fact, the core of quirkyalone is the inability to settle. We spend a signficant chunk of our lives single because we <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">hold relationships to a high standard</span>.<br /></span><br />Are quirkyalones loners? Not necessarily. Quirkyalones often <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">value friendship</span></span> very highly. We're often very social people. But we do value occasional solitude. Quirkyalones are often creative and need time alone to allow thoughts to fully form.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">It's Not Just For Single People</span></span><br /><br />Quirkyalones is a mindset that transcends relationships status. It's a newly articulated set of ideas about being in single and in relationships expressed through a set of vocabulary‹quirkyalone, quirkyslut, and quirkytogether‹that's designed to inspire conversation in a fun, ironic way.<br /><br />It's a tool for conversation about singledom and relationships in <span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">a new era</span></span> where unmarried households are becoming a majority.<br /><br />A quirkyalone can also be quirkytogether (quirkyalone in a relationship). A quirkyslut maintains high standards for a romantic relationship, but becomes more flexible for the Saturday (or even Tuesday) night encounter.<br /><br /><br />(My emphasis added)<br /><br />Oh! It's websites like these that give me a boost on days when my usually optimistic attitude is running low. Last night, I had quite the epiphany regarding dating...I'm super tired now (and in Chicago needing to sleep to prepare for my conference tomorrow!), but I have the intention of posting more about it within the next couple days. I know I've sworn off blogging about my love life, but my epiphany certainly presents a number of ideas that I feel transcend my love life. For now -- I'm signing out with my results from taking the "Are you QuirkyAlone?" Quiz: <br /><br /><br />Very quirkyalone:<br />Relatives may give you quizzical looks, and so may friends, but you know in your heart of hearts that you are following your inner voice. Though you may not be romancing a single person, you are romancing the world. <br /><br /><br />Romancing the world! That's exactly how I'd explain it :)Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-75954238210515475462008-09-24T20:06:00.004-05:002008-09-24T20:14:58.954-05:00And so it continues...A clip from CNN I found on Feministing.com confronts the ways in which the McCain campaign continues to exercise their sexist logic. While I, of course, am not a fan of Sarah Palin and her stance on basically everything, I most certainly am interested in doing what Campbell Brown suggests the McCain campaign should do -- that is to say, FREE SARAH PALIN! <br /><br /><center><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tLlXxMY2LHI&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tLlXxMY2LHI&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></center> <br /><br />Amen, sister...Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-89125991021806599792008-09-11T14:32:00.005-05:002008-09-24T19:22:58.670-05:00Back to BusinessMy last few posts have basically been "filler" to clog my blog up with something mainly to keep myself in some, although sporadic, rhythm of posting. Because let's face it -- my head has not been set on actively blogging. So much for taking the summer to beef this blogging project up. Oh well. I am finding a trend in my blogging; despite being wrapped up in grad school and all the ridic that it entails, I blog more when I am in the mindset of reading, writing, thinking critically, etc. Not only did I physically take a vacation this summer, my brain, while not taking what I'd call a full vacation for there was no numbing or hard drugs involved, and my knowledge-building energy went to a different, not-so-academic place. Granted my thesis and all things M.I.A. were not far from my mind (hell, she "retired"!), I found myself retreating and gravitating towards books that allowed me to build upon aspects of personal growth that aren't as easily, or at all, tapped into while in grad school. While this past school year I found myself forming so many new ideas that not only made "the personal political" regarding my own identity politics, I leapt and bounded ahead towards an academic career and community, that I could not be more excited to pursue. That being said, this semester I am tapping into a new, yet not completely foreign area of study that has always been on my "to do" or "to read" lists. To further expand upon and perhaps in a sense remedy my immature ideas on feminism, feminist aesthetics, and my self-identification as a strong woman, I am enrolled in two courses (the only courses I am taking this semester) addressing these issues. And, truly, what an exciting time to do it! Hold your breath. I am not going to slide into a rant on Sarah Palin ( but, god, do I want to!!!!). There are multiple reasons I am leaving this ordeal to continue to fester in my brain. So, I can't make any promises regarding future posts. But to squash the ability for thIS post to easily turn in a diatribe on Palin's and McCain's disgusting display of pseudo-feminism and the mainstream media's coverage of it, I am stopping here, for I need to read before my TA class in 30 mins. However, I will leave you all with the notes and letters of other women addressing these oh-so-prevalent issues being discussed: <a href="http://womenagainstsarahpalin.blogspot.com/">http://womenagainstsarahpalin.blogspot.com/</a>Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-52518363080626531902008-09-01T13:31:00.003-05:002008-09-01T13:41:51.287-05:00Tell me why, oh why...<center><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nrv3hteHglI&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nrv3hteHglI&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></center><br /><br />Despite this week being the week of the Republican National Convention I am feeling uberly optimistic, and I feel like sharing the wealth :P<br /><br />My life is gearing up the semester, and I couldn't be more excited! Granted this excitement will more than likely turn into panic, I am looking forward to stomping through this semester and the rest of the school year. Bring on the thesis, coursework, TAship, PhD applications, and conferences! Ok, writing all those tasks out just made me want to retreat back to the summer days of sitting on the couch watching BravoTV for hours on end. But I will persevere! And I'm going to have a great, neurotic time doing it!Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-2981065662326382312008-08-22T12:44:00.003-05:002008-10-05T21:44:53.710-05:00Obsessing over E!'s Obsession with Kim Kardashian's ASSetsWhile I haven't been writing on my own blog, I have been writing for another! <br /><br /><a href="http://flowtv.org/?p=1642">Check out my article</a> on FlowTV.org, the online journal I volunteer for. Leave comments and tell me what you think!Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-49767571839072285422008-08-09T14:16:00.005-05:002008-08-11T23:35:17.606-05:00"One good thing about music, when it hits......you feel no pain". Sure, this Bob Marley quote is probably one of the most over-used sentences listed on people's "Favorite Quotes" section on their Facebook profiles. Nonetheless, I'm feeling a bit awestruck by the ability for some songs to completely change your mood. That said, this just makes me smile:<br /><br /><center><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/R781LDKOVJE&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/R781LDKOVJE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></center><br /><br />You can catch more candid performances by a range of other musicians and groups at <a href="http://www.blogotheque.net">LaBlogotheque</a>. Late Friday night/ Saturday morning after returning from my evening excursion, I easily spent a good two hours or so watching videos on their site. Oh, alcohol-inspired, musical moments by myself in the wee hours of the night -- a common occurrence in my life. And I love it.Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-22132238584962038592008-08-08T09:07:00.006-05:002008-08-08T09:45:02.298-05:00Hi to the HiatusMust start writing more...why I haven't been? I really do not have any good excuse. Plus, nothing particularly interesting has happened to me in the past few weeks. Well, perhaps I am lying --I have traveled from Indianapolis to NYC to Chicago to Austin to Dallas to Austin in the month of July. And don't get me wrong -- adventures were had in all places and, thus, contributing to my hiatus. But I don't have a single good explanation as to why I have not been posting since I have been back in Austin (almost two weeks now). Oh, well! Life when it seemingly isn't busy is busy. Now, with all that said, I don't have any major media/ life. shennanigan commentary to attach to this posting (I just woke up -- brain is not functioning in witty mode, yet). However, what I will attach is proof of my travels. Just a few photos from my cross-country excursions:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFeA8WnlLJdYMXs75m25ukX0u4SRgx_fTBIk-LFLG9zjQfJExsETv5szfxhZ7Mj_RVMUaeWe7PAhyphenhyphendCLjCpCw8hZohZ2Q8BF6j8ZZNdY07ubAI97ssKPbA-0lltrbf2gsBdBIWz1qTAvgm/s1600-h/IMG_2839.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFeA8WnlLJdYMXs75m25ukX0u4SRgx_fTBIk-LFLG9zjQfJExsETv5szfxhZ7Mj_RVMUaeWe7PAhyphenhyphendCLjCpCw8hZohZ2Q8BF6j8ZZNdY07ubAI97ssKPbA-0lltrbf2gsBdBIWz1qTAvgm/s320/IMG_2839.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232153293912175282" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfXVrlX3YzXIQWexqWMoC-cQFVvQSmbI07MUfTGy5vY2319ls_1YzObkXZ_msxl0ycANBvyyD9zORl8HmmRDTydnRSGcrXyrJ45A7lq7ssaAM75MKc-7xmT69eA9QvHOge3Qo-wB3Bd8g/s1600-h/IMG_2920.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfXVrlX3YzXIQWexqWMoC-cQFVvQSmbI07MUfTGy5vY2319ls_1YzObkXZ_msxl0ycANBvyyD9zORl8HmmRDTydnRSGcrXyrJ45A7lq7ssaAM75MKc-7xmT69eA9QvHOge3Qo-wB3Bd8g/s320/IMG_2920.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232153297236644594" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhH6nYTno3unpxOlNmC8XRbarHiX3OJvdbsw68U9b_C38hygoAqGQ0rEmemKowZpo_8IimFPb8r5v68N7X2WWSH6O8IF_-EVoBMf9dH1m-BBnkLWbxTjS6K7mflRS8Pj5iT0m-3Cwg8add/s1600-h/IMG_3025.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhH6nYTno3unpxOlNmC8XRbarHiX3OJvdbsw68U9b_C38hygoAqGQ0rEmemKowZpo_8IimFPb8r5v68N7X2WWSH6O8IF_-EVoBMf9dH1m-BBnkLWbxTjS6K7mflRS8Pj5iT0m-3Cwg8add/s320/IMG_3025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232153301945527378" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg52p4DoEEDD45xyJzfxUOj2xA041wfUv56cGEDiKViuCF3uEdq3mPjA6R_2H-qDvghHQ9W48H6AfxSo5aJvKx3xR6EM7H76bzqbLy2fwLC7rpAguik7rbwv6crB5SB-YNur-B_0OLPi2c/s1600-h/IMG_3082.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg52p4DoEEDD45xyJzfxUOj2xA041wfUv56cGEDiKViuCF3uEdq3mPjA6R_2H-qDvghHQ9W48H6AfxSo5aJvKx3xR6EM7H76bzqbLy2fwLC7rpAguik7rbwv6crB5SB-YNur-B_0OLPi2c/s320/IMG_3082.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232153308214313922" /></a><br /><br />Just a small taste of my NYC and the Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago experiences. Indeed, fun was had and money was spent! Back to "work". C'est tout pour maintenant!Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-40652611981498706612008-07-22T13:51:00.002-05:002008-07-22T14:36:45.594-05:00Whew!Crisis averted...Macbook up and running. Yes, this is a bit late of an update and, yes, a lot of stuff has been going on in my whirlwind of a life, but I thought since I made such a fuss in my last posting I should address the status of the comp. But this is assuming anyone really cares, which I am sure isn't necessarily the case. Nonetheless, blogging is quite narcissistic and, therefore, I am giving any of my blog readers the benefit of the doubt ;) <br /><br />Now that the update is covered let's get to the crux of this posting: I was raised in where Forbes.com is currently claiming to be the number one place to raise a family. <a href="http://www.forbes.com/2008/06/27/schools-places-family-forbeslife-cx_zg_0630realestate_slide_21.html?thisspeed=25000">Check out the article</a> -- I ain't lyin'. Corn-fed and well-bred! That's what goes down in the Hamilton County! And lucky for me I grew up in the county seat aka Noblesville, IN, where our high school mascot is a Miller... yes, a glorified farmer. I am a bit curious as to how one can measure this finding over an extended period of time. Sure, I see the value in gauging a city's (or in this case county's) worthy-hood of being a place to raise kids by looking at crime stats, air pollution, cost of living, and the local school systems. But you must also look at the underlying characteristics of such places these levels of criteria give you. I mean -- you can live in BFE, middle-of-freakin' nowhere with no one to potentially rob you, where housing is inexpensive (because no one wants to live there), and where the air is clean because there isn't a single person for miles around. Granted this isn't exactly what Hamilton County is like, you have to take into consideration the aspects of the world and living you don't get or have access to when you live in Noblesville, IN, Suburbia Kansas, or any of the other places on the Forbes list. And I'm not only talking about the convenience of urban amenities. I'm talking mainly about the diversity of opinions, lifestyles, racial and ethnic demographics, political stances, etc. -- the list could go on. Growing up with surroundings that can challenge you to think out of your comfortable, suburban bubble, I think will keep you more open-minded in the end. Obviously, the aim of this Forbes list isn't to tell prospective or current parents where to raise their children to be challengers of the status quo...unless you are a fluke and one of the Haddad kids...Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-65480554616907967222008-07-01T22:03:00.004-05:002008-07-01T23:06:41.389-05:00Macbook down! Mackbook down!This past Friday I had an accident with my Macbook...*sigh*. I have not cried yet, but I'm just waiting for the call from Apple saying "...you need to give us all your NYC spending money...have fun eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and window shopping while your hair makes you look like a small, furry animal died on top of your head because you can't afford to by more hair product...". Then, I will cry and tell them to piss off, because I have a nice head of hair! Keep your fingers crossed that the Apple peeps will work their geek magic and cast a spell on my computer curing it from all hard drive malfunctions...<br /><br />One thing that has cheered me up is my pops buying the sweetest DVD box set evaaaaaaaa! <span style="font-style:italic;">Jim Henson's Fantasy Film Collection</span> featuring <span style="font-style:italic;">Labyrinth</span>, <span style="font-style:italic;">Mirrormask</span>, and <span style="font-style:italic;">The Dark Crystal</span> is mine! I'm not much a sulker, but now if I find myself slipping into a depressing I-have-no-Macbook mode I can just watch Jen's adventures trying to take down the Skeksis empire or, better yet, see David Bowie "dance magic dance". OMG...my first crush was on David Bowie as the Goblin King. Knowing me know now, is it really surprising that as a 5-year old I was attracted to a man with wild, long hair, lots of make-up, and a tight pair of spandex pants paired with a sweet and sexy blouse? I was so jealous of Jennifer Connelly. That bitch had it all --sexual tension with the Goblin King and stuffed animals that came to life. That is all I ever wanted as a kindergartner. <br /><br />You know you are jealous that I'll be falling asleep to this tonight:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DjoYzLBp34o&hl=en"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DjoYzLBp34o&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-70182001998225123652008-06-23T13:52:00.007-05:002008-06-23T14:47:18.042-05:00Out-of-Commission Dancing QueenI don't usually wear heels, but both Friday and Saturday night this past weekend I strapped them SOBs on and danced my little booty off...and holy crap am I regretting thinking this was a good idea. As a result of this brilliant idea of mine to go out of my element ands squeeze my fat, wide feet into a pair of ho-gear heels, I have made two new friends! I am displeased to introduce: <br /><br />Augustus<br /><br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1cVaRc8ggL2ELLgjLt2hPOI_lZoR888_OR-qRBpNPJABNiF-81jvyMGPSJCFqi1Wh653heh9_gyWevZgH79M0S7fj7FUDfWTZjqaQVgthkLbeWqjNDWRsKyoYJ4XaY7r-_4PmLMFXPny/s1600-h/IMG_2475.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL1cVaRc8ggL2ELLgjLt2hPOI_lZoR888_OR-qRBpNPJABNiF-81jvyMGPSJCFqi1Wh653heh9_gyWevZgH79M0S7fj7FUDfWTZjqaQVgthkLbeWqjNDWRsKyoYJ4XaY7r-_4PmLMFXPny/s320/IMG_2475.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215158838450448706" /></a></center><br /><br />and Gloop<br /><br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkL-hg5Tl9CDayySgZDSKCHNDVMt1HYfchA1azqyInbShLGvOYa9QL3H5EEplPXK1YP8ilUkhBlJ1yRy4t2O5tZHRgFD2xstpa1Y5-a1UpyU9o0c6H6GOKBRkie1FrVPtCC-REjpJD8EQ/s1600-h/IMG_2480.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkL-hg5Tl9CDayySgZDSKCHNDVMt1HYfchA1azqyInbShLGvOYa9QL3H5EEplPXK1YP8ilUkhBlJ1yRy4t2O5tZHRgFD2xstpa1Y5-a1UpyU9o0c6H6GOKBRkie1FrVPtCC-REjpJD8EQ/s320/IMG_2480.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215159453470255714" /></a></center><br /><br /><br />Yes, I named the two blisters on my pinky toes after the chubby, German kid from <span style="font-style:italic;">Charlie and the Chocolate Factory</span> (only one of my favorite Roald Dahl novels!). On top of just enjoying the name Augustus Gloop and my attempts at impersonating his accent with a mouth full of chocolate, I feel his gluttony and size perfectly personify my fragmented, chubby toes. And, yes, I posted pictures of my blistered toes on my blog. I think this coincides with my mantra of owning your ridiculousness. <br /><br />Anyway, the bottom line is my feet + heels = pain. This is a fact I have known for quite sometime. But because of the special events I had going on this weekend including my birthday party and a fancy, family wedding I felt inclined to go against my better judgment...and now I'm paying for it. Back to the flip flops!Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-35370541267128570202008-06-15T20:15:00.014-05:002008-06-23T13:52:32.508-05:00Karaoke, Baked Goods, and Thunderstorms...in the words of Rufus Wainwright, "these are just a couple of my cravings". Baked goods cravings? Undeniable. Karaoke cravings? Inevitable (especially for me)! But thunderstorm cravings? Perhaps, this is questionable. Nonetheless, these three things have consumed much of my summer life to date. <br /><br />Let's start with karaoke. I've done karaoke three times since I turned in my papers, and I have come to one major conclusion...karaoke is always better when done with a medium to small- sized group. This way you get to sing more. And anyone who has experienced the vocal stylings of Candice Haddad would agree that this is a good thing... not really. I actually am not that good, but honestly this is why smaller groups are better. Someone in your group always has to go, and if you go with nice people who also suck they don't care that you keep getting up there ruining anything from The Pixies to Queen to Whitney Houston. Don't get me completely wrong, I have experienced the large group dynamics of some karaoke bars to be a lot of fun. But I will say that the experience I had at Metro (a gay bar in Indy) a couple years ago kinda turned me off. The evening involved some pitchers of beer, a guy talking about his physic powers, and me waiting till the end of the night (thus, intaking much of that beer...eh) to sing "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks. Let's just say the only people clapping at the end were the two people I went with and me, but only bc I was still "keeping the beat" and didn't realize "Bitch" had ended. Oh, boy! Did it end. We left soon after I got off the stage... <br /><br />Enough about my traumatic karaoke past, let's move on to baked goods -- specifically CUPCAKES! I have made three batches of cupcakes in the past month or so. And here they are:<br /><br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RE0oM9nXr3jmzf530wryvSnjqJ80Zy9MncBB2l-4bRr3sCHT1dVHl-qWGsoewcYy5DAMIXuRhy4jz9I0MGfGIcASUOy1DBM3Mu4T7bjSXHX1Q2_KD35huNcMWBu_MBxrnBkykuecRpwQ/s1600-h/IMG_2195.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RE0oM9nXr3jmzf530wryvSnjqJ80Zy9MncBB2l-4bRr3sCHT1dVHl-qWGsoewcYy5DAMIXuRhy4jz9I0MGfGIcASUOy1DBM3Mu4T7bjSXHX1Q2_KD35huNcMWBu_MBxrnBkykuecRpwQ/s320/IMG_2195.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212289661291005938" /></a></center><br /><center> Coconut Lime Cupcakes!</center><br /><br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaeyu1QblH3WV8e3sD35zHEL4eFoyVkfg87IxDvVv6FLbrGAAGPzJpQyzVRbCwkVEF4TBRfFwF4_i1QJ34wiyzKcVYFYI30pahmTjbTDsySO28fx8Mr_sDb-g1xkRxw5SqOVtXKmj9UZ1/s1600-h/DSCN1357.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLaeyu1QblH3WV8e3sD35zHEL4eFoyVkfg87IxDvVv6FLbrGAAGPzJpQyzVRbCwkVEF4TBRfFwF4_i1QJ34wiyzKcVYFYI30pahmTjbTDsySO28fx8Mr_sDb-g1xkRxw5SqOVtXKmj9UZ1/s320/DSCN1357.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212289973955845938" /></a></center><br /><center> Vanilla Cupcakes with Blackberry and Raspberry toppings</center><br /><br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitT4jUx1qwi2ChXR11_DxFyaP35sGaxzItBg67BXiZGJdd0Jv80TS63PlP6tCr6nBaCKB1YmlY-Oox3JEu41F1xcyWomwo14i3u8pSIMMWZvoBMVO9fOOld0cWmSd5Tjm8W_keo_pDGH0N/s1600-h/IMG_2277.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitT4jUx1qwi2ChXR11_DxFyaP35sGaxzItBg67BXiZGJdd0Jv80TS63PlP6tCr6nBaCKB1YmlY-Oox3JEu41F1xcyWomwo14i3u8pSIMMWZvoBMVO9fOOld0cWmSd5Tjm8W_keo_pDGH0N/s320/IMG_2277.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212290622469123682" /></a></center><br /><center> Pineapple Right-Side Up Cupcakes</center><br /><br />(Yes, each batch had a mini photo shoot. It's summer vaca! What else do you think I'm doing?) <br /><br />Thanks to Caitlin, I was inspired to buy <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vegan-Cupcakes-Take-Over-World/dp/1569242739">this</a> vegan cupcake recipe book she flashed in front of my face over a month ago. A couple weeks later I bought it. And as I am sure you can tell, they have indeed taken over my world. The authors note that one of the reasons you should bake these vegan cupcakes is because they are blogworthy-- particularly more blogworthy than ranting about your love life. And I couldn't agree more! As you can see, I have not made any of the chocolate ones yet... who wants cupcakes?!?! <br /><br />The last thing I want to mention about my summer life thus far is... you've guessed it! Thunderstorms! This shit has been crazy up here in Indiana, and I'm saying this even after the ridiculous hail storms that have been going on in Austin. Many parts of Indiana have experienced a ton of flooding. One of my most favorite places, Bloomington, was hit with major flooding:<br /><br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0SVYvhbsRep_0UWMlllRuI2KDXJ5Bvc1IgkEDXtw6I88m0RHmmPBJwjVZW7yZg4MS6avf1QVcRbyRtevD1Z9-s3HDM7qmRRpG43bT-Wzb4cTDmLLTzAQAb36qEeC9ekQmQXmmb81DzdC/s1600-h/bloomingtonflood.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia0SVYvhbsRep_0UWMlllRuI2KDXJ5Bvc1IgkEDXtw6I88m0RHmmPBJwjVZW7yZg4MS6avf1QVcRbyRtevD1Z9-s3HDM7qmRRpG43bT-Wzb4cTDmLLTzAQAb36qEeC9ekQmQXmmb81DzdC/s320/bloomingtonflood.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212294310547762786" /></a></center> <br /><br />And this is one of my favorite corners in Bloomington...the intersection of Kirkwood and Dunn! So crazy! <br /><br />Another crazy picture I have is of the orange sky that appeared in the middle of one of the first storms that occurred a day or two after I came into town. Grover, the pug, was hesitant to go out...<br /><br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vnzi-6Dx0HhubPREKnzAqMC_tZfuutexAGUuycDJTjGRaBaLrRE6YV9zz-r3ZKdvGuQZh-beeqQNghv-3ZDdLuD4PffCIoQIBUIz8hzE85vGgRuOvR6pJU6irOjBdE-4x0tW6MnbCo5e/s1600-h/IMG_2205.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vnzi-6Dx0HhubPREKnzAqMC_tZfuutexAGUuycDJTjGRaBaLrRE6YV9zz-r3ZKdvGuQZh-beeqQNghv-3ZDdLuD4PffCIoQIBUIz8hzE85vGgRuOvR6pJU6irOjBdE-4x0tW6MnbCo5e/s320/IMG_2205.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212296535747199442" /></a></center><br /><br />I freaking love this stuff. It sucks when devastating things happen to communities, but monsoon rain, orange skies, crazy winds, and freakish lightening are so mesmerizing! It used to scare me shitless when I was young. If I had a quarter for every time my family mentions my Weather Channel addiction in elementary school, I wouldn't have any student loans to pay off (ha! right...). Seriously though, I want to be a tornado chaser when I grow up...Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-83708089494405863632008-06-06T14:39:00.004-05:002008-06-06T14:57:09.476-05:00Chef Boyar My MommaMy Mom makes a mean carrot cake, and <a href="http://www.indianapolismonthly.com/dining/article.aspx?id=23950">this</a> proves it.<br /><br />The article says she still gets requests, but she is retired. HA! Not for me...the perks of being Joyce Schneider's daughter.Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-9194512570386698212008-06-03T04:34:00.004-05:002008-06-03T04:57:36.156-05:00RecoveryUgh! I still feel like I am in recovery from this past school year. These past few weeks have been a challenge to feel situated. I feel like I went from going 150mph to abruptly pulling on the e-brake and coming to a complete halt. At first, the break was much needed, and the lack of academic responsibility ( or really having to do any type of work) was completely necessary and relieving, but now I am going a bit stir-crazy. Granted I realize there is not much I can do to get back into a steady routine till I'm back in Austin and my travels are over, I am in dire need of a break from my break. But who am I kidding? This hiatus of hardcore academic work has opened up the flood gates to get my life put back together in all the non-school arenas of my life -- socially, emotionally, physically. The problem is finding the energy and time to do it all post-semester when you brain has turned to Jello. Between friends visiting, packing and moving, wrapping up my assistantship, and preparing to tackle a thesis, I am needing a snap, slap, or kick back into a routine of some sort. Indeed, a creature of habit and stability I am and my root chakra is in dire need of some attention. As much as it kills me to admit it, my trip back to Indiana beginning in two days could not come soon enough.Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-27131379480810957322008-06-02T15:33:00.007-05:002008-06-22T15:13:57.593-05:00Schlock<center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.mavav.org/2007/05/08/wendys_wii_manhunt_connection.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.mavav.org/2007/05/08/wendys_wii_manhunt_connection.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a></center><br /><br />Schlock: <span style="font-style:italic;">noun</span>, Sites of mass consumption often in the form of large cement (sometimes limestone or brick) blocks turned into outside shopping centers, indoor shopping malls, or stand-alone restaurants and stores found throughout the United States-- particularly in suburban areas. Yes, this is my own working definition, but I first heard this word come from my high school senior English Composition teacher, Mr. B (I'll let him remain somewhat anonymous). And it has stuck with me and been part of my vocabulary ever since. For your information, this is also the same teacher who threw a puppet parrot at me from across the room while I gave a speech in front of the class, but this is neither here nor there and is a story for another day. So, I bring up this term schlock now for I am hanging out in Dallas... enough said, right? If you aren't familiar with Dallas, let me explain a bit. Basically, you can find every imaginable chain store, restaurant, or whatever throughout the city (including the 'burbs) in many and multiple locations. Granted this is probably true for most large cities in the United States, there is just something that urks me about Dallas and its whole layout, vibe, population --basically its entire existence. And when I say Dallas I also want to include Fort Worth...oh do I want to include Fort Worth... <br /><br />During this trip I went to Fort Worth for the first time to go to the Fort Worth Museum of Modern Art. While I overall loved the museum and the art and the entire space and architecture of the building, my experience was a bit tainted during a moment when I looked out from a balcony towards a potentially beautiful view of the museum premises with the cityscape in the background to find a large construction site and a Wendy's billboard robbing this otherwise breathtaking site of any sliver of escapism. Perhaps, I am being too hasty to denounce any ability for there to be some kind of pleasure to be taken from seeing these signs of development and capitalistic endeavors to be enmeshed with modern art and architecture. The more I think about it the more I realize that my view from that balcony was a moment removed from doing exactly the same thing that I was doing immediately prior to and following. Standing in front of a piece of art to interact with it by judging it and looking for its "beauty" is in many ways similar to the position the architecture of the museum presented by having these spaces for reflection on the outside, (post)modern world to be enjoyed (arguably) from within its confines surrounded by modern art. In other words, the more I think about it the more I'm finding similarities between the often ironic beauty and intrigue I found in many of the pieces and the view of the museum compound being loomed over by the city and its schlock. Both sites --at least for me-- mix the ambivalent feelings invoked by escapism, social critique, cultural commentary, capitalism, etc. Truly, the more I think about it the more I sort of appreciate in a weird way that freckled, redhead's mug making her presence known.<br /><br /><br />(Note: I promise to wait to use the phrase "The more I think about it..." for at least a few more posts.)Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-4875446509283940582008-05-23T17:46:00.005-05:002008-05-24T19:32:23.839-05:00Most Awesome Friend of Honor aka MAFoHMAFoH-- pronounced exactly how it looks. And it is my new word for what I used to call Maid of Honor or Matron of Honor. NO LONGER! I hereby denounce the title of Maid/ Matron of Honor! Ew to the Ma to the id-- I refuse to be called a maid or a matron. <br /><br />Pardon the random ranting, but I just sent out the RSVP cards for all THREE weddings I am attending this summer. And during these actions of licking the envelopes, signing my name, check marking "will attend" and then writing a number 1 next to it got me thinking about the title of "Maid of Honor" and how I oh-not-so-pleasantly get to mark it on my list of things I have been called. <br /><br />After rereading my last sentence I see how this sounds reaaallly bad, and I just want to make clear it is not the actual position of, actions associated with, or my badass BFF who has named me her Maid of Honor that I dislike. I am so happy to be Amos's MAFoH. When else is it socially appropriate to buy a 24 pack of penis straws and hand them out at a party? Crap...who am I kidding? I've done this before! But no seriously, I love my Amos. I have known her since 4th grade, and she is one of the most down-to-earth, trustworthy, best of friends a person could ever ask for. I am truly honored that she asked me to play such a huge part in her wedding. Plus, her and Billy might possibly be the coolest couple ever! It is merely the title of Maid that puts an unwanted ruffle in my ruffled underwear. And I can only imagine the convulsions that would ensue after learning of the historical derivations of such titles. This case of ignorance most definitely is bliss.<br /> <br />I wrote it once and I'll write it again. EW! to the MA to the ID. But I LOVE YOU, AMOS! I love you for many reasons, but now more than ever because you aren't making me wear anything anywhere close to this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2007/specials/realweddings/bridesmaids/pink_dress4_340x490.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2007/specials/realweddings/bridesmaids/pink_dress4_340x490.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />or this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_R8-LsPumc0s/RfWeTpJ8g_I/AAAAAAAAACI/kuSgq8TMi-4/s320/Ugly+Bridesmaid+Dress"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_R8-LsPumc0s/RfWeTpJ8g_I/AAAAAAAAACI/kuSgq8TMi-4/s320/Ugly+Bridesmaid+Dress" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br />Actually, I probably would wear the second one. If you, Amy, bought your own penis straws and allowed me to house a TBD man under my skirt for the duration of the ceremony, I'd wear it.Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-832198004831263672008-05-15T22:13:00.007-05:002008-05-15T22:48:35.230-05:00Prepare to Read the Ramblings of a Burnout, Scattered Brain:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive/phd051208s.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive/phd051208s.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I love my computer. I love being geeky on my computer. And I love writing. But not this past week--hence, the lack of blog postings. Don't be alarmed (this is almost a moment of talking to myself). I will continue to post. This blog will not go down the gutter like all my past blogs. My brain has just taken a vacation this week. After staring at Microsoft Word nonstop for at least a week and pumping out close to 60 pages of mad, sweet, critical, thought-provoking (arguably) media studies goodness, I have been able to justify doing a lot of nothing. And I say nothing very loosely, bc extending your arm and putting it towards your mouth counts as something...and while doing this movement repeatedly I should not disregard the many interesting things I have added to my list of to-dos this summer. A list includes, but definitely is not limited to: <br /><br />1) change my cell phone plan to add more texts, 2) go see more live music, 3) learn new recipes-- particularly those using tofu, 4) start running, 5) watch a lot of HBO, 6) see the new <span style="font-style:italic;">Sex and the City</span> movie, 7) go to NYC and Chicago, 8) go to the top of the Empire State Building, 9) find a new drink to replace my go-to vodka tonic, 10) watch <span style="font-style:italic;">Golden Girls</span> reruns, 11) do a lot of karaoke, 12) take my little sister to King's Island, 13) avoid catching Amos's flower bouquet like the plague, 14) sit on Brent's parents couch for at least a 10-hour period w/o moving (unless for food, drink, or restroom break, of course), 15) make my blog spiffier!, 16) see bands I both love and have never heard of at Pitchfork, 17) read a shit-ton, 18) find new restaurants in Austin, 19) find new restaurants in Indianapolis, 20) meet new people, 21) spend time with my "old" people, 22) figure out what PhD programs Im going to apply to, 23) take my dogs on walks, 24) go camping, 25) get a new tattoo, 26) watch a lot of Netflixs, 27)GO PICK UP MY FRIENDS AT THE AIRPORT! YAY!Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-16150848341041267022008-05-04T13:44:00.005-05:002008-05-04T13:52:49.347-05:00Meta My Language (or Life), Baby...I don't really have time to go into major commentary for this video. I am mid- boxing match with Homi Bhabha, and he won't stop mimicking me (ha, had to...). But I think this video "speaks" for itself anyway:<br /><br /><center><embed src="http://www.metacafe.com/fplayer/420984/web_2_0_the_machine_is_us_ing_us.swf" width="400" height="345" wmode="transparent" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"> </embed><br><font size = 1><a href="http://www.metacafe.com/watch/420984/web_2_0_the_machine_is_us_ing_us/">Web 2.0 ... The Machine Is Us/ing Us</a> - <a href="http://www.metacafe.com/">More bloopers are a click away</a></font></center>Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-10954021143672655322008-04-25T20:06:00.005-05:002008-04-26T12:02:50.480-05:00Jimmy Stewart is Not Attractive<center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.encarta.msn.com/xrefmedia/sharemed/targets/images/pho/t053/T053205A.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://images.encarta.msn.com/xrefmedia/sharemed/targets/images/pho/t053/T053205A.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a></center><br /><br />He's not --at least to me. In Rear Window I can see the potential for Grace Kelly to find him attractive...maybe. BUT HE DOESN'T MOVE! If he did then I don't think I'd be able to make any excuse for Grace. This isn't supposed to be an "I Hate Jimmy" rant, because I don't hate him. I just don't get "hottie" when I look at him...and don't understand how anyone could/ did. <br /><br />This may seem to be coming out of nowhere, but nowhere is the land where I live. Nowhere-land filled with Thursday nights, cubes of Cabernet, a shit-ton of Netflixs I need to watch, and celebratory moods (in light of turning in Poco papers!). Needless to say, I watched Vertigo last night. Loved watching it for it had been awhile...but had epiphanies and strong opinions formed in regards to the "hottie" level of Mr. Stewart. I mean it grossed me out watching him and Kim Novak make-out. I'm talking vomit-inducing. Sure, this may be blasphemy to some, but whatevs take Jimmy... just leave me Clarke...<br /><br /><center><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.timeinc.net/time/daily/2007/0711/a_arhett_1119.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img.timeinc.net/time/daily/2007/0711/a_arhett_1119.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a></center><br /><br />How dapper! How dashing! And he doesn't have a dumb accent.Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-12185421196620135672008-04-20T11:49:00.002-05:002008-04-20T11:52:07.719-05:00ANTM Fans Have HumorI'm still trying to control my laughter from stumbling upon this: <br /><br /><br /><center><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ylPqlrBoyRY&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ylPqlrBoyRY&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object></center><br /><br /><br />Everyone loves a bat-shit crazy Tyra! If this isn't one of the best examples of textual poaching, then I don't know what is.Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391076261602631476.post-91817053786403937082008-04-18T11:57:00.006-05:002008-04-22T18:36:35.468-05:00Own Your RidiculousnessI do. Or at least I remind myself to everyday. <br /><br />I mean have you seen my hair? Or my nose? <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSnP_bBXrJIGfzC62jQqo3hyphenhyphenrgUj4VSw6UdZF6RxvSOU68ZvpTpccT0gU8fwPxsStx7_IoD0vFA0AeKzyTtPEZeVpMJjemDsut7SEFpnU5sg2wl3Ul9-IwcOyAL4Z_VOngZzY-W5Z9LGcY/s1600-h/Sam's+Bday+and+Brent%27s+visit+020.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSnP_bBXrJIGfzC62jQqo3hyphenhyphenrgUj4VSw6UdZF6RxvSOU68ZvpTpccT0gU8fwPxsStx7_IoD0vFA0AeKzyTtPEZeVpMJjemDsut7SEFpnU5sg2wl3Ul9-IwcOyAL4Z_VOngZzY-W5Z9LGcY/s320/Sam's+Bday+and+Brent%27s+visit+020.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190755748073912018" /></a><br /><br />Or my feet?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTxNi1DkJLWG4fxQAjE8OyC7OZHxv3oiIDNnhBUT3wgA0u7_p-Pb4TrdcAE6LYfQiozBJK-In3ZLEFOX8FXWK3D7oJMC6sdKKZDYpZ0OxJSS2v0D4Z3QZZzgriz5q6XAhvRxv_EDW_9hh/s1600-h/Paris+2088.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTxNi1DkJLWG4fxQAjE8OyC7OZHxv3oiIDNnhBUT3wgA0u7_p-Pb4TrdcAE6LYfQiozBJK-In3ZLEFOX8FXWK3D7oJMC6sdKKZDYpZ0OxJSS2v0D4Z3QZZzgriz5q6XAhvRxv_EDW_9hh/s320/Paris+2088.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190756375139137250" /></a><br /><br />Personally, I like my feet and always have...yet I have been told they aren't as cute as I think they are. But this illustrates my point perfectly! It doesn't matter what other people think. You've got to own it! <br /><br />And I'm not just talking about physical attributes. Actually, I rather not even focus on the physical (contrary to what posting pictures of myself may suggest). What really matters to me is owning everything else. I mean eeeeeeeeeeeveeeeeeeeeeeryyyyything. Ranging from the stupid things you did in high school to the people you've hurt to the people who have hurt you to the words you can't pronounce to the omelettte you can't flip to the colors you've dyed your hair to the curse words that fly out of your mouth, fucking own it. Own it. Love it. And don't apologize for it.<br /><br />FYI- That is my sister, Samantha, with me in the pic...just showing off the Haddad Schnozz.Candicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220727910516270710noreply@blogger.com0