mardi, mars 27, 2007

living vicariously

It's official. I have no life. This isn't a terminal condition, and I'm planning my escape, but for the moment I really do not have a personal/private/social/cultural life.

The other day, I read an article which explained how, if one is ever kidnapped and held in isolation, one can retain one's sanity by thinking about doing a favourite hobby (for example building model boats)down to the most infinitesimally small details (imagining the tiny little nails and knots on the boat).

Not really into boats, I've been trying this technique with knitting. I've long ago given up hope of actually knitting- 3 inches on one sock in 3 months is embarrassing- but imaginary knitting just hops along during staff meetings.

Just last week I finished this and this and I'm almost done the sleeves for this.

Maybe next I'll teach myself to crochet...

lundi, mars 19, 2007

today I learned...

...that certain departments of international organizations do not understand the principles of basic punctuation. Show me a language in which a space between a word and the semicolon following it like this: "claire is slowly going out of her mind ; a process rapidly advanced by inane emails and questions." It is WRONG! So do not waste my time asking me to fix mistakes in a translation that YOU MADE that don't exist. annoyingly self-centered anorexic teenagers really are. I mean, even at my most neurotic and foodless I didn't steal 12 apples and 6 pears and a bunch of bananas from a communal kitchen and expect nobody to notice. I NOTICED. I NOTICED WHEN I WENT TO THE KITCHEN TO GRAB A SNACK AND ALL THE FRUIT THAT WE BOUGHT AT THE MARKET THIS MORNING WAS GONE. Since I've only seen you eat fruit in the three days that you have been here, I am pretty sure it was you. Honestly. If fruit is all you are going to eat, go buy your own damn pears. be careful when I send emails and to make sure not to accidentally include the address of an ex-girlfriend when I send an email to my dad. Because I'm pretty sure he'll feel stupid when I email him to point out that since we haven't spoken in a year, hearing from him via an email explaining to his father how to use skype and how his job sucks, is an odd way to get in touch.

...that I am a hellish procrastinator. I have one final article to write for the magazine. 250 words. I'm facing down the wrath of my editor in a big way. Yet somehow I can write angry, incoherent blog posts. Time management: a concept clearly lost on me.

dimanche, mars 04, 2007

I am a terrible photographer...

...but Maria is not.

check her out.