You Lose

So here's the thing about online videos. People will watch them because they think something significant is going to happen, even if the previous six minutes of the video have been sheer boredom. You think, "Maybe, at exactly 7:37 in the video something hilarious is going to happen and if I don't watch all 12 minutes of this video I'm going to miss out on a fantastic lifetime opportunity! And if I switch away from the video I'll forget about it and it will be lost in cyber-oblivion forever, and I will not be up with the pop culture times and no one will be my friend..."

And then you get to the end of 12 minutes and you think, "That was a boring video." And then you know what you do? You click on the next video, thinking the same crazed thoughts!

It's like gambling. It is exactly like gambling, I am telling you. "If I just pull the slot one more time, I'll get a million dollars, even though I've just lost $25 and I've been sitting here for three hours and my arm hurts more than it ever has, and I really have no idea if it is day or night right now..."

I just sent my brother's girlfriend, Caitlin, a message on facebook, and then watched five whole videos on her profile page of her and her roommates filling up a beanbag chair with the stuff that goes inside beanbag chairs. Now no offense, Caitlin and Caitlin's roommates, it's not that these videos were particularly boring, they just weren't exactly...nail biting and/or hilarity-inducing. I just had to note that once I watched "The Beanbag, Part One," I had to watch parts two through five as well. Each video seemed to me to be exactly like the one before it, I didn't understand the inside jokes, but the cheap thrill monster inside me kept clicking on that little square button with a triangle in it, "Play."

Jerry Seinfeld talks about this human idiocy in one of his old stand up routines, discussing the watching of late night TV. He says that he will "fight sleep" to find something good on TV, even though it is a known fact that the quality of television goes down as the hours tick on (save Craig Ferguson at 12:30am). "Go to BED!" he yells at himself. How true is this for all of us.

Time Well Spent

Approximately six hours ago I left my house, jotting a note on the kitchen white board. (Pause: how American is that? A white board in the kitchen? Am I right?) I wrote: "Going to Caleb's to do homework. XO"

Just now I came home and Mom asked, "Homework all done?"

My response: "Psshh."

Our schedule for the past six hours looked a little something like this:

--Sit in kitchen with Caleb's dad, while Caleb's dad makes me dinner (delicious, what an amazing man), and we discuss whether Iraq was formerly Persia or Mesopotamia (answer, revealed from my history class notes: Iraq=Mesopotamia, Iran=Persia)
--Go to Caleb's closet, where I inherit multiple hand-me-down shirts, including an argyle cardigan I am currently wearing and can't seem to take off, so comfortable
--Go to Dairy Queen to buy dinner for Caleb's mom
--Drop off dinner for Caleb's mom
--Drive to grocery store, buy stuff
--Go to Starbucks (yes, our place of employment), get a glass of water, look at merchandise we've already seen, discuss, go out to parking lot discussing how lame we are, getting water at our place of employment when we're not even scheduled to work
--Get home, watch youtube video
--Watch another youtube video
--Watch another youtube video
--Watch another youtube video
--Watch another youtube video
--Watch another youtube video
--Watch another youtube video
--Watch another youtube video
--Watch another youtube video
--Watch another youtube video
--Watch another youtube video
...
--And...3 hours later, no homework done, stomachs in pain from laughing at so much Ellen, as well as one particularly crazy clip involving a man in a porkchop costume
--Upon my departure, I try to steal one of Caleb's scarves (not included in the up-for-grabs pile in his closet); do not get away with the theft

And now here I am, maybe not more informed on the Middle East or ready to pass my geography quiz, but wearing a deliciously soft cardigan, eating Oreos, and waiting for my cat to come tuck me in. Ah well, I'll study tomorrow. I've worked really hard this week.

Zoe in the Rye

I like to believe I have a special connection with other writers.

Last Saturday I had a date with my friend Kristen, and we watched the movie (500) Days of Summer, starring (soooo hott) Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel.

Before the movie entered the DVD player, I had to give my rant pertaining to Zooey's name. I think, if it is going to be written the way that it is, then it should be pronounced the way it phonetically looks: Zooh-ee. As in zoo. Where there are animals to be seen. The name "Zoe" is pronounced ZOH-ee. I ultimately try not to be a grammar snob, and I love non traditional names (look at mine), but when names are written and spelled in a way that does not match up phonetically, it really gets under my skin. Think of a child's graduation ceremony. Think of all the many, many classes that child is going to enroll in over time, and think of how every time the teacher is going to be taking attendance the first day and will always screw it up.

Well I got on my soapbox, got off of it, we watched the movie, I fell in love with Joseph, and we enjoyed the film, despite my frustration with Zooey's name.

Days later, I picked up my copy of Franny and Zooey, by J.D. Salinger, from where Ms. Deschanel got her name, and began reading it for the first time. I am loving it (this may come as a shock to those of you who believe I am a non-fiction snob as well--I do in fact enjoy some fiction writing, I just find that so many non-fiction reads take priority on my bookshelf first).

Then, yesterday, Kristen sent me a message asking, cryptically, "Did you hear the news?," and then mentioned something about me not being able to ever really find out the answer of how the name "Zooey" was in fact supposed to be pronounced. Alarmed, and a little saddened, I wrote back asking "Did J.D. die??? How very strange, since we just watched that movie and I just started reading his book!"

And finally, today in the kitchen, my librarian mom asked (in a rather upbeat tone, I will point out), "Guess who died?," as if she were asking, "Guess who got engaged?" or "Guess who's pregnant?" Having not yet received a confirmation message from Kristen, I made my best educated guess and replied, "Did J.D. Salinger die?!"

Yes, friends. Yes he did. The creator of Holden Caulfield, one of the most, in my opinion, obnoxious smart asses to ever grace the pages of American literature. And the above story is the very roundabout way that I learned of his death. Rest in peace, J.D. Your smart ass Holden has excited many a defiant teen, including but not limited to the hottie hott author Donald Miller. (Holla, Donald. I think you're hott.)

Hot Cross Buns

I witnessed something horribly adorable this morning.

A car came through our drive thru with a mother and son. The boy was sitting in the passenger seat, probably about 8 years old.

In his lap lay sheet music.

And in his hands was a green plastic recorder.

They were on their way to school, Mom was buying coffee, and he was dutifully practicing his recorder in the car.

I could not stop staring, and was genuinely saddened when they drove off.

I heart books

Once upon a time
I read for fun.
For the moment it seems
Those days are done.

:(

Time for just a few pages? Please? Just a little bit of porridge, librarian sire?