(this is sort of a puzzle..Guess what double meaning it could have!)

It's Ethan's mindset, and a shirt.

And picture the thing being a bit sad. Well, Ethan Frome is sad, isn’t he? Picture him being really negative. Yes, downright negative.

click here for the answer!

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Lithuanian has more cases than a liquor store.

By God’s breath, it hath three locatives, and a participle for every time and mood. Perfect for Mother’s day–she’s sure to love this complete set! Not paltry like Latin–only 1 measly locative that’s hardly used–Get your Lithuanian tea set today! Only 3 easy payments of 24.99; upgrade to a Finnish tea set and pay only 4 easy payments of 24.99!

The Jungle required to be read and dialectical-noted, I decided to learn a bit about Lithuanian so I could remember how to spell the characters’ names better.

I bet some people are gonna SparkNote their summer assignments. *mrrr.*

Yum. Potato.

After making this thing, I’m convinced that nearly any vegetable, when cooked with any combination of garlic, ginger, and maybe scallions, will turn out pretty palatable. I got the basic recipe from an Indian cookbook from the kids’ section of the library, and since my mom didn’t want to buy any more spices (“just use the curry powder!”), this was the only thing I had all the ingredients for. Granted, I’m open to skipping and twisting recipes when they’re ridiculous, obscure, expensive, fatty, republican, etc., but since spices seem to be a distinguishing factor of Indian food, I decided not to mess with them.

Strangely, this potato+pea thing didn’t taste like any figment of what I thought Indian food was supposed to look or taste like, at all. It tasted downright Chinese–it was even made like it. Actually, all the recipies had the same simple culinary structure as Chinese food (heat oil, add “aromatics”, brown; add foody stuff; salt; serve.) Maybe it was because I scraped out all the spicy parts of the green pepper, thus disposing of any spiciness that may have distinguished it.

Also, it had no meat in it. Usually, we (or my mom) puts little julienned sticks of meat into everything we eat, for flavor. This had no meat, and it still tasted ok. Maybe it was the skins on the potatoes–I left them on because the potatoes were shriveled (impossible to peel), and nearly supporting their own ecosystems. There were hideous little sprouts, purple-green, like a crystallizing solution of Barney, and bugs were living in the bag where the potatoes were.


Lately, I’ve been reading over old pieces, and generally anything else that looked easy enough. “Reading” doesn’t denote the freakishly tempo-consistent thing string players (and other competent musicians) do; for me, it’s more like an American using an abacus and trying to balance Enron’s books. Mozart actually flows along for me (at several different tempi), except when those little accidentals pop out or the rhythm does something funny. Bach’s 5th English (?) suite was also surprisingly non-crash+burn, though it still was pretty bad. Other than that, I’m still fiddling with the WTK because it’s awethumb.

The Relentless Archivist

When I was younger–not much younger, just a little bit, like a year or so ago, I would collect lots and lots of sentimentally meaningful yet hardly important stuff made of undigestable plant material, usually in the form of certificates, clippings, little thingies from teachers.

But then I gott lazee n stoppd bcuz i goot layzee n ran out of good sheet cover things and had to use the cheaper shiny kind, which I didn’t like as much. So now, I turn my archivisty instinct to my math notes. They’re lovely and turquoise, with headers illuminated like a monk copied it under the Benedictine code.

Ok, maybe not that lovely, but they do encase some nice memories. Looking back at my 9th grade notes, I realized that I’ve had math 2nd or 3rd period for a loonnnggg time–since 7th grade, actually. The prospect of having Calculus 7th period next year is ..a change.

Ah, math. Science. Math and Science. The Hard Sciences. If it weren’t for the awareness that I’m only good at them because of soci-cultural immersion/support and a knack for grasping patterns, not because of any instinct for the properties of numbers or matter/energy/life forms, I’d almost want to be a mathematician/scientist.

For, even if I did have that instinct, I’m not sure I’d want to start writing my 8’s like snowmen. [My brain has established a pattern that math/science people write 8’s like snowmen, which is a grand generalization based on 2 instances that’s been disproved by many others who don’t write 8’s like snowmen, but whatever.] There’s also the requisite above average caffeine-consumption during college for math/science people, and my bladder doesn’t do well with caffeine.