A Song Project

So I have an idea of a project I want to try. I am going to make a few Youtube playlists of "internet music." I'm going to go to various sites and ask various people to give me one song for the mix, and then I am going to upload the mix created by that site. I want to see what kind of different results I get!

Well...blog readers, give me one song rec. I'm not asking for your *favorite* (because yes, I know, it's impossible to have one *favorite*), but give me something that you would like to see on a playlist to listen to. The song/piece can be of any type, from any time period, in any language, etc.

Post your song as a comment! (or email, message, whatever)

Two Haikus

 Lament

I've been negligent;

Life and homework interfere

With the interwebz.

 Apology

I don't write haikus.

I'm not sure if you can tell--

Do they have titles? 

Here is a picture of an Enlightened frog. It relates to this post because it's Japanese.

The Art of Trolling

As a fairly frequent member to a certain forum (shouting out to the TORnsibs!), there is one thing that annoys me more than anything. Well, maybe not more than anything. But it annoys me a lot. Trolls. They post and disrupt the goings-on in this family-friendly and peaceful forum, and I wonder why they feel like it's necessary to post.

On occasion, the posts are amusing. There was one post a couple of years ago that will take me too long to find a link to right now, but some idiot posted with a subject line similar to:

Y R THER ONLY GIRLS HEAR IF LOTR IS A BOYS MOVIE

The content of the post was just as obnoxious. However, the sibs (a nickname for regulars on the boards, or TORnadoes) responded beautifully, with everything from sarcastic comments about Aragorn barbie dolls to a memorable picture of a male sib jokingly dressed in a pink suit, announcing that "he was no man."  Good times. :)

Anyway, for the most part, the posts don't end up being that entertaining. Usually, they will get no replies, whoever finds it first will report it, and an admin will come in and clean up, occasionally banning that user from the forum. (thank you again, admins!) Sometimes the reporting post will turn into an amusing pun thread. Sometimes, you get the occasional response from another regular, "Darn! Why do I miss all the juicy posts?" Mostly, nobody pays too much attention.

Well, recently, I found myself on TheArtOfTrolling (content-appropriateness warning for work people if you go to that site), which has some amusing posts. Here are a few of the more appropriate ones that made me laugh (click to enlarge):

Amazing ASCII art. Ten points to Gryffindor.  

Who says trolling is exclusively an online thing?

Fascist goldfish. Need I say more?

Ah, Yahoo! Answers. Upon seeing this upload, I immediately decided that this was my new favorite method of trolling, and tried to make a troll post on Yahoo!, using my account that I could log onto through facebook. I decided that it wasn't very funny, though, and that I could do far better, so I deleted it, and created a second account that wouldn't be connected with my facebook page, and searched for stupid questions to answer trollishly and maliciously. 

I got a little caught up in the music section, however, and then the classical music section, and then I found several questions that I knew the answers to. So I answered them, and then realized that I got points for having my answers chosen as the best answer!!!! And if I got enough points, I could get to level two!!!!!!! I was so excited about this!! So I immediately proceeded to answer as many questions about classical music as possible, and until I used up all of my answers for the day. 

The next day, I got on to troll again, and then realized that I was having too much fun answering the questions with this account, so I answered some more questions about classical music, realizing that the urge to make it to Level Two was far more powerful than the urge to answer somebody's stupid idiot question sarcastically.

So, I decided that I don't have what it takes to be a troll. I've also decided that to be a real troll, you can't really sympathize with the forums/places you're trolling, because then you just end up feeling guilty about it. (or maybe I'm just overly sensitive)

For a real-life troll, btw, look up Remi Gaillard. If you haven't seen him already, he is a youtube necessity. My favorite is his snail video (the link I embedded in his name), but he has many great ones, including a slew of must-see elevator posts. 

I did learn that there are most certainly such things as good trolls. They just happen to be overrun by the bad ones. It's like books. You get a million trash books, but you can't look at Twilight and say that all books are poor quality.  You also have to keep a straight internet face the entire time, which I just can't do. I don't have that ability. 

Anybody else seen any memorable trolls out there?

How to eat a hamburger without being awkward

[note: the new schedule for my posting, provided I stick to it, will be something like Mozart and Chocolate gets a post on Mondays, Tolkien and Taters gets a post on Wednesdays, and The College Student's List gets a post on Fridays]

Whenever I go out to a new restaurant that I haven't visited before, I check out the menu, scouring it completely before I order. Very occasionally, I'll order a restaurant special. Most of the time, I'll order a hamburger (or a mushroom-swiss burger, or a bacon burger....depending on my mood). I'm not a picky eater. Provided it's not so spicy that my head explodes, I will eat anything. So why do I tend to order hamburgers when I am at a nice, fancy restaurant that has nationally ranked steaks? There is just something about hamburgers that resonates with me-- I can't explain it. When I see a perfectly grilled hamburger cooked medium-well, with fresh lettuce and tomato and ketchup and cheddar (or Swiss or American, if necessary) cheese and onions and pickles and a little bit of mustard and a couple of mushrooms and a slightly charred bun with some sesame seeds on top, I must have it.

This is not a medium-well burger; it's medium at the most. Unacceptable.

Now, I don't think I've ever been to a restaurant (short of take-out and drive-thru) by myself, and when I do go with someone, I usually sit opposite from them. This presents a very serious problem, one that has caused me more stress than I would care to admit. See, in this type of situation, there are two items in my head:

1. I must order a delicious hamburger, and eat it.
2. I must look civilized in front of the person across from me.

The problem is, 1 and 2 don't really go together. It's incredibly difficult for mortals to eat hamburgers without having the contents of the hamburger spill out all over the place, and not ordering a hamburger just isn't an option for me; if I pass up the chance for a hamburger that I want, I could pine for days. I can't compromise item 1. Therefore, I must work with item 2.

I will edit my system into a series of simple steps for anybody else who has this very problem:

1. When your burger first arrives, cut it in half with your knife. 
2. While eating dinner with somebody, you are expected to make conversation, but you can't do this and eat at the same time. So, pick up a fry, and nibble it, commenting on how delicious your burger looks, but acting as if you don't care all that much, because it's just food, and not as important as the chatty conversation you came here for. 
3. Your dinner partner will agree with you, and comment on how excited she/he is to eat (or something to this effect), and begin to eat their food to show their mirrored enthusiasm.
4. Now comes the tricky part. Handle this one with care. Wait until your dinner partner has food in his/her mouth, and pick up your half-burger to eat it. However, right before it reaches your mouth, pause as if you've just remembered something, and say something really vague, like, "Oh, by the way, how is that summer job going? I remember you've told me a little bit about it, but it sounds really interesting! Are you glad you worked there?" Then take a bite of your burger, being careful to be neat about it. (n.b.: the comment must be vague enough that the listener can interpret it any way that (s)he wants, but also pertinent enough to their life that they can talk about it for a while. Remember: people love to talk about themselves. It's why I have this blog.)
5. This comment can also be modified for various situations. "Oh, by the way, how was that trip to New Zealand! You've told me a little bit about it, but I never saw the pictures! What was your favorite place to visit?" or, "Oh, by the way, how did that test go? I remember you told me you never studied for it and you were out the whole night before, but I never did hear how it went! Tell me about the worst part of it!"
6. Chew and listen, occasionally saying things like, "Mmmm-hmmm" and nodding to show how interested you are. 
7. Once you can speak again, make an appropriate reply. Your reply should be based on what your dinner partner said, commenting on how much you agree with what they said, and asking a slightly more specific question on something they clearly want to talk about. "Yes, that professor really is unfair, isn't he? What was that really rude thing he said to you earlier this year again...?" and always appearing fascinated with their insightful replies, looking them in the eye and nodding sympathetically.conversation.
8. Repeat steps 4-7. With this formula, you can take the time you need to eat your burger neatly without worrying about any gaping holes of awkward silence in the conversation. 

Before you know it, you will be done with the dinner, your buddy will like you more than ever for your thoughtful listening ear, and you will have had a delicious hamburger in its entirety (or demi-entirety, or however much of it you wanted, although if you actually wanted less than half of it, I weep for the poor, poor burger quality you had to suffer through). Is there such thing as a better night?

Also, does anyone know of a more awkward food to eat? 

Why my favorite color is green

So I thought I would try this blog out with the new layout today, and see how it works. For all 2 people who read my blog, could I get feedback on the new look?

Because there is absolutely no point to this post whatsoever, I'm going to post lots of pictures and write sparingly. In memory of the look my blog used to have, I thought I would write about why my favorite color is green. First off, it's a lovely color that you can see all over the place:

Because of this, I can usually find the color green pretty quickly, if I ever am feeling sad and really needing to see my favorite color. 

Look, see, even in Houston you can find the color green pretty quickly when necessary.

Emeralds are my favorite gems-- I later realized that emerald is actually my birthstone.

*fighting urge to put hipster kitty here*....I liked emeralds before they were my birthstone

Frogs, which happen to be the greatest animals of all time (koalas aren't animals, they're love and cuteness in animal form) are green:

Come on, tell me you didn't smile when you looked at him. No? *hands glasses to reader*

Kermit the Frog is green, too. One of my favorite-ever Christmas presents has involved this excellent book, in which Kermit the Frog sings about why it's a good thing to be green:

You see frogs are green, and I'm a frog/And that means I'm green, you see

So those are some reasons that green is my favorite color. The end.

But green's the color of spring
And green can be cool and friendly-like
And green can be big like a mountain
Or important like a river
Or tall like a tree

....

It's beautiful, and I think it's what I want to be.

-Kermit the Frog

Missing the bus

As the summer draws to a close, I think about the one thing I will not miss: taking the bus to my internship everyday. Or, as I should say, the two buses, since I had a transfer on Broadway and Hildebrand. The less-than-ten minute car trip from the house to Trinity becomes a forty five minute trip (minimum) involving me sitting on a sidewalk, trying to avoid ruining my nice work dress, and attempting to read a book while the wind doggedly keeps me from staying on whatever page I actually want to read.

Oh, and missing the bus. The worst feeling is running to the bus stop only to see the bus driving by ahead of you, the driver completely unaware that if (s)he had been ten seconds later, you could have gotten to work on time. There is no question about where the blame goes in cases like this. If you miss the bus, it's the bus's fault. As you sit on the rough mirage-paved sidewalk in 104 degree weather, it's a small drop of consolation for your justice-parched throat that it is the bus's fault for deciding to be on time, and not yours, for deciding to sleep an extra five minutes that morning.

And the creepy people. You know, you get all kinds of sweet little videos and anecdotes about the nice things that happen on the buses/subways/trains/random places with random people, but in actuality, I (who, while I will happily strike up a conversation with half the internet, shut down in awkward-- or any-- social situations) find that I would much rather keep to myself and avoid talking to people. I have been approached; one guy named David asked me if I would be uncomfortable if I held his hand on the bus, and this other guy asked me what restaurant was closest to my house, because he would like to take me there. Encounters like these result in my finding the most secluded corner on the bus and reading my book and listening to my iPod, feigning complete disinterest in everything that goes around me. Feigning disinterest...or refusing to feign interest. I'm not sure which one is correct here. Either way, you get the point.

There was this one guy on the bus yesterday who kind of caught my eye. He was huge, at least three hundred pounds, and wearing a black shirt, black pants, a black collar, and he had black hair in a bowl cut. He also had a large sketchpad, on which he was drawing a dragon. I couldn't help but watch. The drawing was very good. I tried to look cool and aloof, as if I had absolutely nothing better to do than to watch, or as if I was zoning out, and just happened to be looking at his drawing. I even took a few minutes to fiddle with my phone, like I was sending a text or something (obviously I wasn't, because nobody I know is up at eight in the morning). He turned the page of his sketchbook, and began working on another drawing-- the kind that I like to call "anime pseudo-porn" (imagine an anime girl wearing nothing but what is absolutely necessary to cover up the important parts, and imagine them being covered with really heavy armor, with spikes on the armor).

It reminded me a little bit of this picture that I came across later that day (click on picture to enlarge it if you have trouble reading):

The story, unfortunately, ends with the bus getting to my stop. I got off, and got on my transfer bus, and went to work. I didn't say anything. But for the rest of the day, I began to feel something nagging at me, in a very uncomfortable way. I found that I wished nothing more than to go back in time and tell him that I really liked his pictures, and that I wanted to take a picture of them. For god's sake, I took a picture of a rock last week that I thought was especially pretty. Last night, I took a picture of a facebook status I thought was amusing, with my phone. I even had my phone out with me on the bus, to pretend to look occupied. 

I probably won't see that kid again-- it's very rare that I see the same person twice on the bus, although there are definitely a few bus "regulars" that I'm beginning to recognize. Sometimes, the source of my aversion to talking to people on the bus is obvious. Sometimes, I'm not sure where it comes from. In any case, would it really have hurt me to say that I thought he was a really good artist, and how long has he been drawing things? I am worried to think that I may be in that group of people that needs to find someone to look down on to feel better about themselves-- and yet I am certainly the kind of "weird and quirky" girl on the left. I googled "Zooey Dechanel" when I saw that picture.

I realize I'm not painting a very flattering portrait of myself, but I don't want to do that, because there are very few people who, when scrutinized up close, are perfect (neither am I raising my hands and saying "well, nobody's perfect, why should I be?"). I'm saying to stop looking for perfection, and look for what catches your eye. The thing is, out of all the people on the bus I've seen this summer, that one kid with is drawings is the one I really noticed this summer, and that's kind of amazing. Because of that, I regret never saying anything to him-- I am positive that he will not remember me after this summer, even though I'm sure I will remember him. Perfection is so easy to find-- we are bombarded with it; it's far more unique to find something that makes us look a second time, capturing our interest.

I want to encourage you (aka, whoever's read this far) to talk to someone today who you wouldn't normally talk to, and tell them something they would really like to hear. Ask them about their family, or how they are doing, or give them a deserved compliment that they might appreciate. It could mean far more to them than you might think-- and that's the point, isn't it? It's really no effort for you to say something that could brighten their day.

In any case, you don't want to miss the opportunity while you have it, in fear of a little awkwardness, and then regret it later. And hey, you really could be the person who makes someone's day. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. 

Harry Potter: Looking Back

(the title is supposed to be read with an English accent...I wish there was a way to write out an English accent)

Just a warning, this post has spoilers for people who live under rocks.

So, the final Harry Potter movie has been released in American theaters this weekend, and the Harry Potter franchise is finally over. For me, though, it really ended with the seventh book. The movies have been fun adaptions, but due to the lack of Daniel's ability to act, I found that I have not been taking the movies nearly as seriously as the books. However, I did not intend for this post to be a critique, so if you're one of those people who can't stand a single bad word about Harry Potter, you may read on.

I remember when the first book was released, and everybody had a copy of it. I was in lower school at the time, and I remember being curious about the book with the kid with glasses on the cover. He was flying on a broomstick and reaching out to catch a flying gold ball, and it said Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, so I assumed that the flying ball was the Sorcerer's Stone. IIRC, there was also a unicorn in the background. It did look interesting, and I remember it looking distinctly British. Half of my family is British, so growing up, I have read a bit of English fantasy and literature, and felt pretty comfortable with the writing style.

The Sorcerer's Stone does not have wings. Nor does it fly.

The interesting is, I have some sort of a mental blackout when it comes to reading the first three books. I remember seeing the first book and deciding to read it, but the next thing I remember, as far as Harry Potter goes, is buying the fourth one at Target after what I guess was a Harry Potter hiatus. But I remembered most of the characters, especially Sirius Black (I know people who loved him and people who thought he was annoying, but regardless of what you think about him, his name is very memorable). I remember enjoying the three tasks, Harry's friendship with Cedric, and FINALLY understanding how Hermione's name is pronounced. I remember being pissed off at Wormtail in the graveyard for betraying everybody, and feeling a dark cloud looming ahead when Voldemort came back.

After that, I reread everything, and I do remember it now. I remember thinking the first book was an enjoyable ride, the second book was a little annoying because of the number of times Harry gets in trouble, and the third book was the greatest thing ever written in Harry Potter history. I loved Lupin, Snape, Black, Crookshanks, and Trelawney. And the time turner! Oh, and Buckbeak, of course. Btw, does anyone know what happens to Buckbeak after Black dies? Does it say in the books?

"When I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now!" 

Now, the movies were a slightly different matter. The first one was cute, and the second had its funny moments (Ron and Aragog cracked me up, and Kenneth Branagh as Lockhart was absolutely hysterical, especially during the duel with Snape), but the third film was wonderful. No, it did not stick to the book, and I have my qualms with it (WTF kind of patronus is Harry making? And werewolf? Ex-cuse me? More like a human-sized naked rat that walks on two feet), but overall, it captured the tone of the book better than its predecessors, I thought. And the soundtrack was great, especially the "Double Trouble" theme that gets introduced as the main theme of this movie as Harry arrives at Hogwarts:

Froggies!

The theme shows up all over the movie (check out the end credits if you don't believe me-- it's got basically every song mixed in there-- up until to 0:30, it's got the Mischief Managed theme in there, and pretty much after 0:35, it's all variations on Double Trouble).

After this movie/book, the series goes on a downward spiral of darkness. With Wormtail's escape comes the prospect of Voldemort's return, and with Voldemort's return comes the deaths of several people, along with Bellatrix showing up and killing even more people. The fourth book was another fun Harry Potter adventure right up until the very end, when the mood suddenly darkens.

And that was the last time Harry ever smiled until the epilogue. 

Skip this paragraph if you can't handle HP criticism:
The fourth movie, on the other hand, was probably the worst book-movie transitions in the whole franchise. One of the few things I highly approved of was Professor Moody; he played his role wonderfully. But the rest of the movie seemed to be a little scattered and hastily put together. Where was the quidditch match? Since when was Beauxbatons a girls school with only veela students? Why did Dumbledore act like such an ass when he found out that Harry's name was in the Goblet? Why wasn't the Norwegian Ridgeback properly tied down when Harry faced it? Where was SPEW? What was going on in that maze at the end? I get that they had to cut some things for the movie, but some of it was a little ridiculous.

Insert clever line about how Cedric Diggory is a vampire here.

Anyway, so then we get the fifth book/movie, where Harry PMSs for an entire year.  I'm glad that the movie people cut some of that out. We did not need to see 94802394802934820 temper tantrums. I was very pleased with Umbridge; the actress got her personality down to a T, in my opinion. Her expression, cats, and outrageously pink outfits were wonderful, and the montage of her "fixing" things at the school was priceless. No, she did not look like a toad, as described in the books, but she was perfect all the same.

"No, I don't think so, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge sweetly, poking him in the back with it. "The Ministry places a rather higher value on my life than yours, I'm afraid."

One thing that made her stand out, to me, was how different she was from almost any other character in the series so far. She certainly stood out from the other Dark Arts professors as being the cruelest (yes, Quirrell was evil, but as a teacher he was basically normal, and we're not going to count Moody/Crouch here for the same reason-- also, while both of them supported Voldemort, neither of them came across as sadistic, exactly, as opposed to just plain evil). One scene that I thought was perfect in the movie was the scene where Harry has to carve into his hand that he will not tell lies. In the middle of her office, surrounded by the mewing kittens, and after watching Umbridge spoon four lumps of pink sugar into her tea, she asks him if everything is all right, pointedly ignoring the blood on the back of his hand. At this point in the movie, you know that the the film people have her down perfectly. 

In the sixth book, of course, we have the unforgivable happen. I couldn't believe what happened when I read it, and I had to reread it several times to make sure that Dumbledore was, in fact, dead. It was *almost* balanced out by the scene at the end of the last quiddich match with Ginny and Harry. (awwwwwww) Still, though, I couldn't help but feel that the idea of an evil book that Harry finds and basically befriends was kind of tired at this point, and this book seemed to be a little reminiscent of Chamber of Secrets, despite the fact that yes, I know, it's totally different. Anyway, any Snape subplot at this point was fascinating, because I was six books into the series, and I still knew practically nothing about him. And, sorry, I just have to say it: I never thought he was bad. He was far too fascinating to be evil. 

Nice locket, Voldemort. I didn't know Salzar Slytherin frequented pawn shops.

Finally, we arrive at the Deathy Hallows. By this point, Harry Potter was no longer a series, but a mythology. There were so many spells, histories, cultures, terms, books, family lines, and characters that Rowling had created an entire world, similar to Tolkien, and developed it so thoroughly that it had caught on with almost everybody who read it, to the point where we understand that we are muggles, nobody uses the word "mudblood" casually, people dream of using "accio" in moments of laziness, and everybody knows that you pronounce wingardium leviosa with emphasis on the gar and the o.

"It's levi-o-sa. Not levio-sa."

Deathly Hallows gives us more of the mythology, with the story of the Three Brothers (although I personally am disappointed that I don't get to hear the story of Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump), and the realization that Harry is actually descended from one of the brothers. Things from the very first book that you dismissed as trivial tie in to the resolution of the series: Grindlewald, the Golden Snitch (not, as I had previously thought, the Sorcerer's Stone), the house ghosts, the invisibility cloak, Gringotts (and Griphook), etc. It's impressive that even though some of those haven't even been mentioned since, we know exactly what it is Rowling is referring to when she writes, and she is able to make it all come together perfectly naturally.

The movie was pretty good, too. I'm glad it was split into two parts-- we had seen at this point that when the books got too fat, the movies began to dwindle in quality. Of course it didn't stick to the book, but I was mostly relieved to get a good wizard battle at the end. I wanted to see Mrs. Weasley kill Bellatrix, and Neville slay the mighty Nagini that had creeped everybody out since book 4. I was mildly annoyed that it didn't all happen in one big battle where everything was public, but at least Neville got his little moment in the form of a moving speech.

And, of course, I cried at the Snape scene. Just like in the book. When I read The Prince's Tale, I had a cut on my eyeball (long story) that resulted in me having to take a break every time I got teary, because it would really irritate my iris. When I got to that chapter, however, I covered up my eye and pressed on, bawling away. In the movie, I was worried that it wouldn't live up to expectations. After all, it'd been written so well, and built up so well to the scene where we see Snape's patronus. Of course, the scene in the movie that did it for me was Snape rushing up the house in Godric's Hollow and holding Lily, and crying. A wonderful example of "not exactly like in the book, but dead-on." Amazing. Snape, you are my hero, and Harry's hero, and Lily's hero.

*wiping tears from eyes, determinedly continuing to read*

I was pleased with how the film handled the epilogue. I managed to get through it without laughing/wincing, so that was nice. Scorpio. Heehee. Poor kid.

And then it was over. No more books, and no more movies shadowing the books. You know it's a good series when it's over and the first thing you want to do is read the whole series again. And it's stuck with me, like no other series. I feel like the characters are my friends, in a way. Fred and George were incorrigible, Lupin was so serious, and Sirius was so fun and crazy, and Hagrid was so sweet, Dumbledore was so wise, Malfoy was so obnoxious, and McGonagall just awesome. The names are so familiar that when I hear somebody named Ron, I assume he is probably a very funny person.

It truly is a series that I grew up with. I have always loved reading, and I've read so many books since first grade. But I reread this series faithfully every time a new book came out, plus some, and I laughed at the jokes and cried at the deaths as they came more and more rapidly. The first book came out when I was in first grade, and the last one came out two years before I graduated from high school, and I went to the same school for all twelve years. It's strange to think about, and a little sad. It's almost like since the series is finished, then I am finished growing up. I always looked forward to something new coming out, and now that's over. But that's how I know that I will never grow out of the series. Because I grew up with it, I can't grow out of it.  It's too ingrained in me at this point. That makes me glad.

"And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure." 

**************

Mischief Managed!

**************

My Embarrassing Monday

I had a very embarrassing day at work today, because it was a Monday. I will explain what happen today in order of embarrassingness:

1. I was delivering an envelope downstairs to a box that I don't really understand (I don't know where it goes or what it's for), but I always have to deliver papers there. I was walking by a desk and I heard a woman say, "you're my hero!". I knew this woman because I had talked to her once or twice on other, similar errands, so I turned around and laughed and said "thank you!" before realizing that she was on the phone. 

2. I went back that office ten minutes later because I had to deliver another paper to the same box, and when I was leaving, that same woman asked me if I needed the registrar's box, and I said no, and so she asked me what I was doing. "I'm here to put the paper in the box," I replied wisely. 

"That's the registrar's box," she said. 
"Oh," I said. "Then yes, that's what I was doing."

3. Later, I had to buy something from the bookstore for my department, and when I was signing the receipt with the name on the department credit card, I thought I was writing my last name for a minute, and the end result was what looked like a fifth grader writing MCONMA and a squiggly line for the last name (I didn't even bother thinking up letters for that part). The woman asked me if I wanted another receipt to sign, and I said yes please, but then I realized that she was kidding, so I pretended like I was, too.

4. Then, I had to deliver a form to the VP's office, so I went up there, and on the way out, I always pick up a piece of chocolate from the candy bowl that's always on the receptionist's desk. I reached out to take the candy, and my hand hit the table. I looked down to realize that the bowl wasn't there today, and I had just reached out to grab at an empty space on the desk. The woman behind the desk gave me a polite look and asked if I wanted the candy, and I kind of turned red and nodded and ran off. (I later realized that words would have been involved in the better response)

5. Finally, when I was heating up my lunch during my lunch break (still in my department office) I tried to open the microwave door, and I pulled the microwave off the counter and it fell on the ground. I picked it up and put it back and plugged it back in before anybody noticed, because thankfully, the people in the rooms closest to me were either on vacation or on lunch. The next woman to heat up her lunch had a little bit of trouble getting the microwave started, but I just sat at my computer and concentrated on writing, looking very innocent and oblivious. The microwave, in the end, did finally start.

Anyway, so now that I have been sufficiently humiliated, I think I will go home and sit down for a while and eat some expensive dark chocolate with Mayan spices and a hint of orange.

Anastasia is a Disney movie

I have gotten a lot of criticism over the years for occasionally calling Anastasia a Disney movie. It's always accidental, of course, but the response of others to this apparently egregious error tends to include a terrible, fiery lashing out of "that is NOT a Disney movie, it is TWENTIETH CENTURY FOX movie and we are NO LONGER FRIENDS."

*quickly goes to check and make sure that Anastasia is, in fact, a 20th Century Fox movie so that the internet doesn't break on account of this post*

Anyway, the point is, Anastasia is really a Disney movie. Here is why:

1. There is a princess (Snow White, The Lion King, Aladdin, I'm not going to list all of them)
2. There are songs (every Disney movie ever)
3. There is a funny sidekick (often fat) and a handsome guy who she ends up with (The silly fat mouse/Prince Charming, The three funny fairies, especially the fat one/Random Unnamed Prince, again, not going to list all of them)
4. There is a cute animal pet figure (the magic carpet, the squirrel who pops the balloon in the forest with all the jaguars, etc)
5. An old wise parent figure who never does anything goofy (King Triton, Mufasa, Tarzan's gorilla parents, etc)
6. A bad guy who is kind of ridiculous (Izma, Edgar, Cruella DeVil, etc)

Now, you might say, well, this happens in every movie! Every kids movie, anyway. In that case, let's take a look at the songs in Anastasia:

1. A Rumor in St. Petersburg (the song where the whole town dances where you get to know the setting of the movie: "Belle," "One Jump Ahead," etc)
2. Journey to the Past (a song about the main character's dream, or the "I want" song: "Part of Your World," "Go the Distance," etc)
3. Once Upon a December (the main character's token song that is unusually pretty and recurs often during the movie, often a love song: "Colors of the Wind," "When you Wish Upon a Star," etc)
4. In the Dark of the Night (catchy bad guy song: "Poor Unfortunate Souls," "Be Prepared," etc)
5. Learn to Do It (the fun song where things look like they will pick up: "Hakuna Matata," "Something There," etc)
6. Paris Holds the Key to your Heart (the last song sung by characters the movie, usually attempting to be cool because the moviemakers know that at this point, most of the songs that people actually care about have already happened, often mixed in with the previous type of song: "Good Company," "A Star is Born," etc)
7. At the Beginning (random song at the end sung by some token famous artist: "True to Your Heart," "You've Got a Friend in Me," etc)

Now, it's getting more difficult to distinguish Anastasia from the average Disney movie. Yes, the animation is slightly different, but it's very formulaic. If that's not enough, however, let's look at a specific song from Anastasia and this Disney classic (Anastasia came out a year after Hunchback of Notre Dame).

A Rumor in St. Petersburg

Topsy-Turvy

Even for "the song where everybody dances" songs, they are very similar. Rumor is a bit more melodic, while Topsy-Turvy is more chaotic, but they have remarkably similar refrains. They also both contain:
1. Character/plot development during breaks in the song
2. Huge crowds of people dancing, people dancing in circles
3. A cathedral in the opening, as well as a grand instrumental introduction



So anyway, I am quite certain that the makers of Anastasia deliberately followed the structure of a Disney movie in hopes that it would make this movie more successful (which it did, IMO), and if that is your method, then you deserve to have your movie occasionally mixed up with whoever you're copying. You could even see it as a compliment. Imitation is the best form of flattery, right? And no offense, Fox, but based on the sheer number of successes, Disney is much better at this kind of thing than you, even if you did get this one hit.  But since it is so obviously based on a Disney classic formula, then I see nothing wrong at all with people occasionally mixing it up with a Disney movie. If they wanted to make it different, they would have made it different.

But they didn't, and in not doing so, they cursed themselves forever. Point is, if I mix them up, it's not my fault, it's theirs. Because Anastasia is, in essence, a Disney movie.

Paycheck: An Odyssey

So I wanted to vent about why I am in a sour mood, but instead, I will write a play about it.

ACT ONE:

EMILY is at the HUMAN RESOURCES department at TRINITY UNIVERSITY. She is speaking to the receptionist at the desk. She is ANNOYED because her paycheck that covers a MONTH of lifeguarding is ONE WEEK LATE, and she has checked for it EVERY DAY THIS WEEK starting from last FRIDAY, which was PAY DAY.

EMILY: Do you have my lifeguarding paycheck?
RECEPTIONIST: I don't know...let me check.

The receptionist disappears into another room for 7-10 minutes before reappearing.


RECEPTIONIST: What was your name again?
EMILY: Emily.

The RECEPTIONIST disappears again before returning about five minutes later.

RECEPTIONIST: I'm sorry, it doesn't seem to be here. You are a lifeguard?
EMILY: Yes.
RECEPTIONIST (going through files): Well, it says that you should have a paycheck here...
EMILY: (weak laugh)
RECEPTIONIST: Let me call my friend, Other HR worker. (calls other HR WORKER)
HR WORKER: Yes?
RECEPTIONIST: This girl....
EMILY: Emily.
RECEPTIONIST: This girl Emily needs her paycheck.
HR WORKER: Okay. What's your name again?
EMILY: Emily M.
HR WORKER: (goes through files, assisted by RECEPTIONIST) Emily...ah, here you are. It says that you should have a paycheck here. Let me see if it was picked up.
RECEPTIONIST: (goes to check more files) It doesn't say it was picked up here...
HR WORKER: (looks at random piece of paper) Oh, look, apparently this girl from the athletics picked up all the athletics paychecks. She just didn't sign for them in the right place. Let me call the director of athletics.

HR WORKER is on the phone for a long time with the DIRECTOR OF ATHLETICS.


HR WORKER: Yes...yes...okay. Oh, so you got one paycheck? Yes, of course Emily can come down to the pool. She'll be right there. (HR WORKER hangs up the phone) Okay, Emily, can you go down to the lifeguarding pool right now to talk to the head guard?
EMILY: Well, I'm kind of at work right now, they just let me down here to pick up a check.
HR WORKER: This won't take more than ten minutes.
EMILY: Okay.

ACT TWO:
EMILY is down at the pool to speak with the HEAD GUARD.


EMILY: Hello!
HEAD GUARD: Hi! How did you get in here?
EMILY: I used the key.
HEAD GUARD: Oh right! You work here!
EMILY: Right. Do you have my paycheck?
HEAD GUARD: No. The director of athletics does.
EMILY. Well, she said that you did.
HEAD GUARD. That's strange. Let me call her.

EMILY and HEAD GUARD go down from the pool into the lifeguarding office. The HEAD GUARD calls the DIRECTOR OF ATHLETICS. 


Head Guard: Yes, yes...no, you never gave me Emily's paycheck. Just the other guard's. No...I don't have it. Okay, I'll wait here while you go check. (HEAD GUARD puts his hand over the receiver to talk to EMILY) Sorry this is taking so long. She is just going to check the boss's box to see if it was delivered there.
EMILY: Okay.
HEAD GUARD: You know, you would save yourself a lot of hassle if you had direct deposit.
EMILY: Well, my checkbook is at home right now.
HEAD GUARD: Oh okay. Well, just call the bank for your info, and fill out a direct deposit form.
EMILY: Okay, well maybe I'll do that next time.
HEAD GUARD. Yeah.

A SILENCE ensues for about TEN MINUTES. HEAD GUARD tries to make WEAK CONVERSATION with EMILY.


HEAD GUARD: So...what are you doing this weekend?
EMILY: Lifeguarding.

HEAD GUARD suddenly pays attention to the PHONE again. 


HEAD GUARD: Oh okay. Yes. I'll tell her. Emily. Yes. (hangs up) Okay, so can you hang around here for like fifteen minutes?
EMILY: Well, I kind of have to get back to work.
HEAD GUARD: Are you sure?
EMILY: Yes....is there any way you could email or call me if you get it figured out?
HEAD GUARD: Yes, I will text you.
EMILY: Thank you.

ACT THREE:

EMILY is sitting in her office at work when she suddenly receives a phone call from the HEAD GUARD. 


HEAD GUARD: Hello, Emily!
EMILY: Hi!
HEAD GUARD: Are you still here?
EMILY: I'm...at work.
HEAD GUARD: Well, can you go to Human Resources and fill out a duplicate paycheck request form?
EMILY: Yes, I can do that.
HEAD GUARD: We don't know where your paycheck is.
EMILY: Okay.
HEAD GUARD: We're sorry about that.
EMILY: Okay. Thank you.

EMILY hurries over to HUMAN RESOURCES and talks to the RECEPTIONIST.


EMILY: I need a duplicate request form, please.
RECEPTIONIST: You mean a duplicate paycheck request form?
EMILY: Yes. That.
RECEPTIONIST: You'll have to talk to the HR BOSS for that.
EMILY: Okay. (goes to talk to HR BOSS)
HR BOSS: What do you need?
EMILY: I need a duplicate paycheck request form, please.
HR BOSS: Sure, let me get one. Did you lose your paycheck? (searches through various folders)
EMILY: I did not lose my paycheck.
HR BOSS: When did you lose it?
EMILY: I did not lose it. Apparently Human Resources gave it away to someone in the athletics department who didn't sign in the right place, and now the athletics department doesn't know where it is.
HR BOSS: All right, here you go. (gives EMILY the request form) You know, you really should be more careful with your paychecks in the future.
EMILY: Okay. (fills out form) Here it is.
HR BOSS: Thank you. This will take a few days to register, but we will email you when we're done. You should pick up your paycheck on time next time.
EMILY: Okay. (leaves office sans paycheck)

Creative Poetry Exercises

I recently "stumbleupon'd" a list of creative exercises that you can do to practice writing poetry, so I thought I would try it. Advance warning: I am not a poet. The last poem I remember writing was in lower school when we had to write about things we loved, so I wrote about rainbows, candy, and chocolate. And my family, I think.

Here is the link to the site that I found.

English 50 – Intro to Creative Writing: Exercises for Poets


Your First Lines


1. The King James Bible has long been recognized for its importance to English literature. Choose a verse from the Bible and write your own poem with the Bible verse as the first line. You can use the blank verse of the Bible as a basis for developing rhythm, the subject matter of the verse to develop theme and metaphor.

(I used my favorite verse for this one, Romans 5:20)

But where sin abounded, grace did much more abound,

And so everybody enjoyed a few minutes of grace

And they saw that God did love everyone,

And everyone loved everybody else.

And you finally saw real peace

Right up until Romans 6.

Then it left again.

2.  Take a line from someone else's poem, presumably one you admire, and use it as the first line for your own poem, again adapting rhythm, subject matter, metaphor.

(line taken from "Resquiescat," by Oscar Wilde)

Heap earth upon it

So that they grow deep

And stretch their weak limbs

Into rifts of the

Dark earthy soil,

Saturated, ripe.

Ready to surge up,

With torrents of buds,

They rise, sing, swell, burst

Flooding the ruin

And dust and decay

So nothing is dead,

No, not anymore.

3. Take a sentence or phrase from a novel or short story or essay that you think is striking and make it the first sentence of a poem. 

(Line from Silence of the Lambs, Thomas Harris)

Some of our stars are the same

If not the time of day,

Or the temperature outside,

Or the lunches we had yesterday,

Or the race of our parents

Or the color of our hair

Or the languages we speak

Or the fountains of knowledge we possess

(And our pearls of wisdom)

Or where we are today

Or where we will be tomorrow.

And if you are on the other side of the world

Our stars are not the same,

But go outside

When it's clear

And dark

And look at the moon.

I see it, too.

4. Look in your journal for a line or striking image and make it the first line of a poem. Don't forget to consider lines and phrases from letters you've received, email messages, phrases you're heard in conversations, movies, songs, anything to get started. If the poem goes well, you'll end up dropping the "borrowed" first line.

Twenty years and twenty days later,

I found myself sitting and writing

Second-rate poetry

On a blog that has eleven followers

And I wondered where I will be in twenty years and twenty days from now

Once my lifespan has doubled,

Or forty years and forty days from now.

And I got scared.

I then remembered how, yesterday (a Sunday),

I woke up at eight in the morning

And took the bus to the grocery store

And then I brought my groceries home and put them in the fridge,

And then took the bus to work,

And I felt a little better. 

Ceci n'est pas une pipe; c'est un gateau

So I had this dream last night where I was going to take a Shakespeare course in the fall, as well as piano, both taught by the same professor. I had not had this professor before, but I talked to her a few times about my courses, and I thought we would get along very well. She taught a summer course on Shakespeare, too, which was how I was able to meet her, since I work at Trinity. (it was a very elaborate dream) At the end of every course she taught, she had this "Shakespeare party" in which everybody would come to class and she would bring food and cake and we would watch films of Shakepeare plays. She told me about it, and apparently several of my friends were in her class over the summer, so I thought I would drop by during the party and get some cake and talk to people. We'll call this professor Dr. T.

(n.b., if I know these professors in real life, I didn't remember it in the dream, nor did I remember it when I woke up. So I'm just giving them random initials, but don't read into them or anything)

Well, in this dream, I was taking another course over the summer about Shakespeare from another professor (Dr. D), and when I went to the party, she was there as well. I was talking to a dear friend who is a Shakespearephile and was taking this Shakespeare course from Dr. T over the summer at Trinity, and Dr. D suddenly stood up and said very coldly, "Were you invited to this party, Emily?" I shook my head no, and she said, "Did you even let Dr. T know that you were coming?"
"Yes," I said, "I sent an email last Friday. I thought she was okay with it." Down at the other end of the table, Dr. T nodded.
"Get out." Dr. D replied calmly. She pointed to the door. "Now. Out."

So I left the Shakespeare party, and my dream sort of turned into this thing where I was Maria from The Sound of Music.


However, I digress. The point is, I sadly left the Shakespeare party, and I didn't get any cake.

I read this other blog recently that had lots of blogging ideas, and one of them was to write down all of your dreams and analyze them. That would get kind of boring for this blog, because I don't really dream that often. But I thought that maybe since this dream was so vivid, I should analyze it. So here's what I came up with:

1. There was a pink cake in the dream. Pink means girls, so I came to the conclusion that I am a girl.
2. I also came to the conclusion that I really want cake, because the cake looked so delicious in the dream.
3. I learned that I am an English major. This is because the dream was centered around Shakespeare parties, and lots of English majors read Shakespeare.
4. I think I also has some sort of prophetic ability, because today at work, I learned of a party that I'm supposed to go to, which is for the University Communications office. University Communications = TU press = writing = English major. Clearly the two parties are related. I will be most pleasantly surprised if there is pink cake at the party this evening.

Let me know if any of you guys want your dream analyzed. I may start charging, but the first couple of weeks will be free.

Also, I will edit pictures for a small fee if anybody needs that, either.

My Birthday: A Sign of my Rising Maturity Level

It was my birthday last week, and I turned TWENTY!!!! The magical age of not-yet-drinking but already-voting and, most importantly, finally-done-with-being-a-teenager. Has anyone ever in the history of the English language used the word "teenager" in a positive sense? Nope. That's because it is actually physically impossible. If you try, you literally spontaneously combust.

I would like to list some things about being a teenager in defense of my former people:

1. Teenagers are flexible-- old people often complain about how things move too quickly, they can't keep up with all this new technology, etc. Well, somebody has to. Guess who that group is?

2. Adults-- you try going to school every day, from eight till three, and then sports afterwards, then homework. Granted, you've already done that. Try it again now. See how easy it is. 

2. a) Try going to school every day during the workweek without being able to do adult things, like driving or drinking legally or eating whatever you want for lunch.

2. b) And don't say "I wish someone would make my lunch for me every day like my parents used to." Remember, you're saying this with an adult perspective. You haven't yet come to understand that this could be seen as a luxury, and this understanding only comes with age, and it only comes too late. Just like every other person of any age in the world, you only want what you don't have: in the case of a teenager, it's freedom to do what you want. In the case of an adult, it's freedom to have other people do things for you. 

3. Teenagers tend to have a more idealistic approach to the world. That is a very good thing, because you need idealists to get anywhere. Without having people that actually think everything can and will and should get better one day, nothing would ever happen.

4. You need teenagers to get adults. Whatever a teenager goes through will be what he/she takes into his/her adult life. 

Well, I am done with all that now, but I'm still halfway through my college life and sans full-time job. I have no idea what I will do when I graduate from college, although I hope it's something English-y. I got several birthday cards congratulating me on another step towards maturity. That was scarier than anything. I really hope I'm not supposed to be mature. I mean, there's a time and a place for everything. But while hanging out with some friends over the past weekend, we were cutting up a chicken and giggling a little about the fact that we got a each chicken "breast." Heehee. Funny. We r 10 yrs old.

Not that I would be giggling about that if I was cutting up a chicken at work, or in a class. I wouldn't crack a smile. The thought wouldn't even cross my mind (I would probably be wondering why I am cutting up a chicken in work or in class). If being mature is knowing how to act in different situations, then I am pretty okay at that. Even if I'm not great at all situations, I can adapt to my surroundings, and talk to people in the manner that they seem to prefer of me. I prefer to blend in when I am somewhere unfamiliar. But, if being mature is acting like a portrait adult at all times and places, then I am not very good at that. I am reluctant to give up my sparkly black converse shoes with rainbow shoelaces, or my four rings (including a fun puzzle ring) that I keep on my hands at all time. I like giggling when there's something immature to giggle at, and I feel that it may be allowed (or possibly even acceptable-- such as when I am with a few close friends). I am working on the important things, like being responsible for my bank account and using the bus system this summer to get to my two jobs. And I love a good intellectual conversation about books or movies or religion or abstract ideas. I could dissect The Dark Knight for you here and now and explain to you every symbol of chaos and order I found in the entire film, and that would take a while.

I also like grammar. Grammar is a mature thing, right? 

The point is, that while maturity is important, the life of a person is more streamlined than that. Maturity comes, not in years and chunks, but in milliseconds and wisps, and in a disguise different to each person. It's never really expected. I think one day you just look back and realize that you are the same person inside of a different person than you once were. Or vice versa. Something along those lines. 

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I will gather my remaining Gummi Fruit Snax and get back to writing my next article in order to get some monies that I may afford to finally buy the illustrated version of Tolkien's Silmarillion as well as fill up my savings account a little bit more.

Fantasy

I've been living the celebrity life of fame and glory since my first article got published on my university webpage yesterday (in case you haven't seen it, it's right here). (fan mail is to be sent to asea7912@gmail.com) I've been making so much money off of this that I may actually be able to afford a rare delicacy for lunch tomorrow: a whole Whataburger number one meal with cheese. That's right. You heard me correctly. With cheese.

It's very easy to get caught up in this kind of life consisting primarily of whirlwinds of phone calls, autographs, paychecks, and cocktail parties. You could easily forget who you are and where you came from, so I just want to tell all of you little people down there that if you ever make it to the kind of life I get to live, remember your roots. Keep it real.

For you people who have the privilege of knowing me, you know that I love fantasy. I love fantasy books. I read any fantasy novel I can find. I don't care if it's for children or young adults or simply, adults. I don't care if it's a graphic novel. Or manga. I don't care if it is  badly written or if it'd Tolkien. It may influence my opinion after I finished the book, but it won't change whether or not I read it.

But, like people say, too much fantasy keeps you from living in the real world. If you read too much fantasy stuff, you'll distance yourself from everything that really exists, what you need to be focusing on. It's not real. My job, my new status of fame balanced with the future success that I once was? That's real. My Whataburger with cheese? That's what I need to be focusing on. Fantasy entertainment only serves as a distraction for people who don't realize any better.


This is very much unlike the world of regular fiction and nonfiction, which serves as a great role model to which I should live my wonderful life. I just skimmed through an old biography of Oscar Wilde I had sitting on the shelf recently. There is a legend about the origin of one of his quotes; there is this one part of his life where he is on trial because his former lover's father is accusing him of sodomy and shouts at Oscar Wilde that he (Oscar) is from the gutter and should stay there. Oscar replies, "We are all in the gutter, sir, but some of us are looking at the stars." That quote actually comes from one of his plays, a comedy: Lady Windermere's Fan: A Play About A Good Woman. However, I have read this quote several times as being cited from this trial-- unless he actually quoted his plays during trial, this legend doesn't make too much sense. It's a nice quote, though. And for a practical thinker like me, it presents a problem. Where is the line between fantasy and fiction, fiction and nonfiction?

Oscar Wilde died after suffering from an inflammation in his brain. That's a nicer, more delicate way of saying he drank himself to death after being released from prison in France and probably contracting syphilis. What does it mean, that some people are looking at the stars? Why do people quote this so often, when it comes from a homeless, broke, and drunk adulterer, and why do they seem to like attributing it to his real life, which sucked, instead of the character in his play who never existed and can be as idealistic as Wilde wanted to make him?

Maybe it's because this quote, as people see it, has nothing to do with the play it's from. If you've heard the quote before, raise your hand. If you've never read/seen the play (or, let's face it, if you've never heard of it), put your hand down. Now, if you think the quote still makes sense and you would ideally love to apply it to your life, seeing yourself as one of those rare and special persons who looks at the stars, put your hand back up.

That is the essence of fantasy.

If looking at stars is distracting, then I suppose fantasy is distracting. I realize that I don't live in the stars, I live on Earth. But the stars are still there-- no, here, in this world. If the stars try to distract me from my Whataburger with cheese, I won't let them. My new celebrity status is too valuable to sacrifice for the sake of distant stars.

However...I suppose I could enjoy them as long as they are here.

Reading Recommendations For The Summer?

So, I haven't written in a while, almost two months. That's kind of scary. I would like to blame this on my passionate dedication to schoolwork.

Here is what I am doing over the summer:
1. Internship for campus publications, which basically lasts all day on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
2. Lifeguarding every day I don't have my internship.
3. Traveling to far off and distant lands to discover my own Golden Fleece: Internet connection. By "far off and distant lands," I mean going to work, going to a nearby Starbucks, etc.
4. Trying to figure out what to do with my life sans internet.

5. Rediscovering the phenomenon that is literature. 

6. Trying to remember what my favorite books are. 

7. Trying to come up with books to read. 

So, here's where YOU come in! Give me recommendations! I read anything that is good. I tend to like fantasy, sci-fi, and contemporary lit, but I also really enjoy lots of classics and lots of random books that come through recommendations. I read The Help last summer and really enjoyed it, which is about as far away from my normal reading circle as possible. Also read the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo trilogy, which was great. Basically, if there is a book that you really enjoy and you're desperate to tell everybody else how awesome it is, then let me know! And I will read it! I really will! Unless there are 394820394234 recommendations, but there won't be, because this is a teensy tiny blog.

King Saul Was A Poser

So here's what we read recently in our religion class (1 Samuel 10:9-12):


⁹ As Saul turned to leave Samuel, God changed Saul’s heart, and all these signs were fulfilled that day. ¹⁰ When he and his servant arrived at Gibeah, a procession of prophets met him; the Spirit of God came powerfully upon him, and he joined in their prophesying. ¹¹ When all those who had formerly known him saw him prophesying with the prophets, they asked each other, “What is this that has happened to the son of Kish? Is Saul also among the prophets?”

¹² A man who lived there answered, “And who is their father?” So it became a saying: “Is Saul also among the prophets?”

This verse made me crack up for several reasons. For one, even though it said that the spirit of God came upon Saul, the phrase "prophesying with the prophets" is just silly, especially when Saul is definitely not a prophet. The writing doesn't even mention what he's saying, which makes it sound even more ridiculous. He's just prophesying with the prophets, no big deal. Hanging out with the kool kids. Since Samuel (the traditionally credited author of this book) was actually a prophet, it would make sense that he got annoyed at the thought of Saul getting credited as being a prophet, especially if Saul later failed so badly at being a king that he actually got his kingship and unconditional love taken away by God because, as God specifically says, he regrets putting Saul on the throne (1 Sam 16:1, 2 Sam 7:15). I'd get annoyed, too, if I were Samuel. Saul has no right to be prophesying among my peeps.

Also, the phrase "Is Saul also among the prophets?" sounds like something that the Israelites would say to someone who's trying to be someone that they're not (aka, a poser). I may have to start using that phrase. If you're hanging out with your friend and being nerdy and silly, but then someone else comes along and your friend immediately starts trying to look good in front of them, simply say to her, "Is [insert friend's name here] also among the prophets?" This will burn like...um...toast. Your friend will immediately understand how she erred, apologize, and you two will continue in your nerdy conversation.  Better yet, if someone is trying to impress you and failing because of your superiority in whatever they're trying to impress you with, just ask them if they are also among the prophets.