The Lazy Luddite

Despite that fact that I have always declared myself to be a Luddite, it would seem that I am a bit too lazy to be a really good one.  I do have moments where I consider defenestration to be the only real solution to my technological woes.  And of course, stomping on things can be truly satisfying.  But I always seem to stop just short of this truly Luddite action and carry on using, though slightly grudgingly, all the most modern sorts of technology I claim to hate.  I have thought about it and I think the reason is honestly that I am too lazy to be a good Luddite.

Throwing your laptop out the window might be satisfying for a few minutes.  Then the realization of all the things you have to do over will slowly sink in.  What about all those photos I put on it?  I don't have them saved elsewhere because that requires more technology and effort and time.  And all those random documents I have on it.  Variations of CVs and resumes that I really don't want to have to recreate.  I would die of sheer boredom.  Then there is the fact that killing off your current technological device just means you'll have to replace it with another one.  As much as the old device irritates you at least you know how it works.  New devices have all these complicated features that don't work the way that logic would dictate they should.  I suppose what I'm really saying is that I hate change more than I hate technology.  I could reasonably adopt the saying "change is bad, new is terrifying" as my personal motto.

Nice little phone minding its own business.  Suddenly senses that it is being followed.

That's really the problem with technology.  They never leave things alone.  They "improve" all the things that worked until they don't work anymore, until they become the least logical way of doing things, and make your life more complicated.  At the same time the real problems never seem to be fixed or worked on.  It seems like the masters and makers of the technology change things simply for the sake of creating change and that is the epitome of evil as far as I am concerned.  So, in this way I am truly a Luddite.  I see technological advances as challenging my way of life and I resent them.  I like the old way.  I understand it.  I do not want it to change.

Heart pounding the phone runs.  It trips on a curb and falls.  Then it sees its attacker and screams.

Perhaps you are wondering why all of a sudden I felt a need to rant about technology.  What precipitated this outburst, you ask yourself?  My phone.  My nice, easy, uncomplicated phone decided that it had worked for too many years.  It decided it was done working and that it needed to die, quite suddenly, in the middle of the night dragging me into yet another clash with technology.  I suppose it is rather fitting that my phone chose to die here in Leeds, that my technological struggle takes place here in this city.  You see, Leeds is located in what used to be the West Riding of Yorkshire, which along with Lancashire, saw the largest disturbances from the Luddite movement.  So it really is fitting that my old ways are being challenged here.

Incoming call from Hammer de Muerte.  A proud moment for a true Luddite.

So, being that I hate technology and change so much, and seeing that I think that technology is pretty much magic, see my thoughts on flash drives, the question is really this... why don't I seize this opportunity to really turn Luddite and do my convictions proud?  Because it requires too much work, that's why.  As much as I complain about the way technology ruins my life, it really has to be said that it makes many things easier.  For instance, I do prefer actually writing with a pen in my hand.  I find it easier to think that way.  But who has the time to hand write essays and then type them out later?  I barely had time for all the reading I had to do as it was.  Typing out essays as I went and using flash drives was the lazy option.  When it came down to it I preferred to spend less time writing and rewriting by hand, be a bit lazy and sleep a bit more.  Have you ever met a college/university student who got enough sleep?  I haven't.  Of course, this doesn't mean that I don't write by hand.  I do keep a hand-written journal.  On occasion I scribble down random story ideas and whatnot and I absolutely adore writing in this way, with real pen and paper.  It just feels better.

But wait.  What is that?  The Luddite begins to tremble in fear.

The same can be said for communication.  I prefer writing and receiving real letters to emails, but emails are so much faster.  I do still write letters but I write less of them because it is easier to email and get responses faster.  Then too you can write one email and send it to everyone.  Rewriting the same letter over and over again can get tiring.  Then of course, if you want to discuss instant communication, phones are even better.  I never really loved talking on the phone but it simply cannot be avoided.  It is the quickest way to organize things and provides instant communication despite distance.  My mistrust of technology is slowly being overcome by my real laziness.  I like convenient things.  If one phone call can sort out all necessary plans I prefer it to ten emails back and forth.  And if I can stay in touch with family and friends on multiple continents by suffering through a little technology, then it is worth it.  A smart phone can do all of these things and more you say?  Hmm.  It doesn't mean I like technology, or even trust it, but it would seem that I will continue using it.

Is that a smartphone? Oh God the horror!

I am the worst Luddite ever.

Flash Drives: The Inner Workings

First, I should explain that my views on technology are rather odd.  Basically I believe that technology is magic.  Electricity is definitely magic.  All the explanations of how it is supposed to work has only convinced me that this is the truth.  All electronic devices are therefore run on magic. 

Let me use an example.  I have my own strange explanation for how flash drives work.  If you have ever looked at computer components and thought they looked like miniature cities you may understand where I am coming from.  Now, I don't know about your flash drive, but inside mine there is an entire city of miniature scribes.  Lots of very little scribes.

So, when I put the flash drive into my computer the scribes run out of their little city and into my computer.  They copy my word documents down super fast, there are lots of them so it doesn't take long even though they are super small.  Then they all return to my flash drive with my document stored on their little writing tablets.  They archive it neatly away in little piles that are quickly accessible if I need it again.

If I decide that I need to read my document on another computer I put in my flash drive and all the scribes run in and copy my document down again quick as lightning.  They are really good at their job.  They are scribes of the highest quality.  They are highly literate, and well-versed in different scripts (or fonts as you modern people would call them).  It takes hours of practice to attain such perfection in their art.

This is why you must remove flash drives safely.  To remove flash drives unsafely is irresponsible as it circumvents the safety features of the device and could risk the well-being of your scribes.  Clicking remove safely is the final warning that the flash drive is about to be removed and all your scribes should make sure they are safely back inside.  It clearly sets off the flashing red lights and sirens.  This saves them from danger and you from frustration when your document is incomplete or simply missing because you left behind some scribes with key parts of your document written down.  There is simply no other reasonable explanation for why you would need a safely remove feature.  It is clearly to protect the magical city of scribes from harm.

That is how flash drives really work.  Magic.  How else do you propose the miniature scribes got in there?

The Scarlet Women

It is about time I tell the story of the Scarlet Women.  Let me begin by saying that I have been blessed with some incredible friendships.  My best friend Bethany is my dearest and oldest friend.  I cannot even remember a time I did not know her.  And despite the fact that we haven't lived in the same state since we were 11 and now do not even live on the same continent we still keep in touch through, email, skype and pinterest, of course.  Although I was blessed with this strong friendship I was apparently not given strong roots to go with it.  I seem to be a bit of a wanderer.  Or an exile.  So it was that I found myself at two different schools for undergrad and yet another for a masters program in self chosen exile while I pursued my academic destiny.  Yet, as hard as those transitions were I wouldn't trade them for anything.  My life would be sadly lacking without the amazing friends I found in all these places.  That is how I first found the group of friends that was to become the Scarlet Women.

Being a very mad person indeed I had decided that I needed to transfer universities mid-way through my career.  Not only did I need to transfer, I needed to move further across the country (I grew up in CA, started university in Chicago, IL, and finished in VA), and I needed to do it in the middle of the year.  I couldn't possibly transfer in the fall with a whole class of new freshman and normal transfers.  No.  I had to transfer in January.  And so it was that I found myself at The College of William and Mary mid-way through the year with a handful of other transfer students.  We adopted each other and soon became a transfer family.  We grew very close and had many adventures, including the formation of our own tribe, the building of a cardboard castle, and the creation of the Church of Coffee.  But the story I want to tell you about now is how we became the Scarlet Women.

While we were dueling, holding tribal dances, and partaking of the sacred liquid we also went to class.  We went to lots of classes, did lots of work and met lots of other students.  One summer my friend, who we will call Carmine San Diego, was attending a class in anthropology among other subjects.  It was a discussion based class with not too many people in it and since she is a nice and friendly person she would smile and say hello to all her fellow students when she met them around campus, including a student we will simply call Guy.  Guy had also been in one of her other classes the previous semester.  Carmine San Diego had crossed paths with Guy several times.  She had always smiled and said hello and he had smiled back.  One day while heading to Wawa, the magical purveyor of milkshakes and other late night treats she ran into Guy again.

On this particular day she asked how he was and after a brief and polite exchange he went on his way.  That seemed fairly normal.  Later that day he found her on facebook, they were not friends, and he wrote on her wall.  He asked "Do you stop and talk with all random strange men on the street or is it just me?"  Well, aside from being outright rude, this was an utterly astonishing thing to ask.  If you have two classes with someone you are hardly a random stranger off the street.  And why would you spend time searching for someone on facebook just to insult them?  Carmine San Diego told another friend at dinner and they started laughing about it.  Suddenly insults were flying back and forth.  "You say hi to your classmates?  You are such a brazen hussy!" "Trollop." "Strumpet." "You should wear a scarlet letter."  And that is how the Scarlet Women were born.  Carmine San Diego was the first scarlet woman and we all joined the ranks.  If smiling at people and making polite conversation makes you a strumpet then we were all guilty of being scarlet women.

As with most things in our group we took the idea of Scarlet Women and ran with it.  We gave each other red things and wore red as a badge of honour.  You have to laugh about these things.  There is just no point in being insulted by idiots.  Now, clearly saying hi to people was promiscuous.  So, if we were scarlet for saying hello to people I don't even want to know what he thought about the sorority girls on campus.  So, naturally the sorostitutes and the scarlets were engaged in territory wars.  We "worked the corner" by Wawa where our whole existence began and where the milkshakes lived.  That is, we went there often to get milkshakes (you wouldn't see a sorority girl there they were too busy being worried about gaining weight and not fitting in their perfect white dresses with matching pearl necklaces.)  They had sorority court further down the street.

From then on whenever we went to Wawa for milkshakes we would laugh about working our territory.  Whenever we wore red it was in pride of membership.  You have to be a little bit proud.  Think about, if someone is so overwhelmed by a polite hello that they call you scarlet, then you've got it going on.  So, if you have ever been insulted without cause, told you were scarlet or slutty for a perfectly acceptable skirt, called a tart for standing with your hips a little asymmetrically,  or someone implied that you were promiscuous when you were simply going about your day, then you are a Scarlet Woman.  A woman of such class and beauty that mere mortals cannot handle you.  Let's face it, they are just intimidated and envious of your natural class and charm.  Don't let them bother you.  Stay classy.  Take their insults as a compliment.  Wear a little bit of red, a ring, a pin or maybe a scarf and just smile.

Broccoli is proven to be creepy

I accidentally stumbled across this post about broccoli on somebody else's blog the other day.  In light of my last post about broccoli I thought this was oddly appropriate.  If my strange pictures were not enough to scare you I imagine that this will be.  Just look closely at these pictures.  Creepy.

I am a scavenger.

At university, my friends and I used to joke that we had to go scavenge for food in the cafeteria.  Not everything they served was edible.  If you have eaten in school cafeterias you know what I'm talking about.  Sometimes the only things that looked edible were the desserts, other days it was cereal for dinner and some days you had to choke down something before you had time to wonder what it was actually made of.    I have to say, if you can keep an entire table full of intelligent people guessing at the contents of your dish you have skills.  Perhaps not the set of skills I would recommend as necessary for being a cook, but nonetheless an impressive set.  Although we did often amuse ourselves at guessing ingredients, it was not always a joking matter.  Scavenging was what we termed the desperate search for real food that often led to an assorted plate of things you found edible.  Usually it meant not eating the main dishes that were being served and instead returning with a collection of gummy bears, gold fish crackers or if you were lucky fruit that you found on the salad bar or hidden by the sandwich stuff. 

It wasn't all bad.  We had fun with even this sad lot in life.  We took the song savages from Pocahontas and gave it our own lyrics. "Scavengers, scavengers barely even eating.  Scavengers, scavengers through the caf we're creeping." The frequent presence of gummy bears at our table led to the creation of Gummy Bear Theatre.  We adapted Shakespearean plays and large historical events and had them performed by Gummy Bear Theatre.  It may have looked something like this.

The best one was probably our highly fictionalized retelling of Hannibal's crossing of the alps with elephants in tow.

Apparently I was destined to take scavenging to another level as a post grad.  I often found that I didn't have time to do proper shopping trips.  So I had to scavenge in my cupboards for things that could be eaten together.  It was not uncommon for me to have peanut butter and jelly but no bread, cereal but no milk, and pasta but no sauce.  I did try to get food but studying just ate up my life.  What kicked me out the door and into the grocery stores though was the lack of chocolate.  Realizing this about myself I had to limit the amount of chocolate I bought at one time.  This way I would have to go out to buy it more often and then be out to buy more real food too.

Now that I have graduated I seem to do better about buying food regularly.  Yet, last night I managed to take scavenging to a whole new level.  I have progressed further into my scavenger lifestyle by moving on from food.  I now collect things.  A few days ago I noticed a table out on the street with the trash bins.  I was too tired at the time to really think about it.  A few more days of passing by it had given me time to contemplate the table sitting on the sidewalk.  That poor three-legged table was going to be thrown away.  What a sad fate.  How could somebody waste such a perfectly good three-legged table?  Well, last night I was sitting in my room thinking that I could use a little table for craft projects.

So, I put on my coat and shoes and went out to the street just behind my house.  I rescued that three-legged table from it's sidewalk grave.  I was undeterred by the slugs that had already decided to make it their home.  I brought it home and cleaned it thoroughly.  I resurrected it from useless discarded furniture to craft table.  Where better to create things then on a three-legged table?  If it can be rescued, if it can still work then there is no limit to what can be repurposed.  And if I get a little paint or glue here or there, what matter?  That is what it is there for and it will only add to its character.

I had better go do crafty things before I decide to start scavenging for more things.

Death by Broccoli.

People love telling others what to do, especially when it comes to eating.  Eat your vegetables is a favourite command among parents.  "Vegetables are good for you" everyone says as you grow older.  People love to tell you how good veggies are for you.  And everyone loves to tell you how good broccoli is.  You aren't allowed to dislike it.  It is rich in fiber and vitamin K.  It can even provide you with vitamin C so you aren't at risk of scurvy.  A common problem on land, of course.  Lord knows, if it weren't for those forced mouthfuls of broccoli I would have succumbed to scurvy on many an occasion in my youth.

"Ha", you think if you are reading this as a child, "when I grow up I won't eat broccoli anymore".  I hate to break it to you kid, but I thought the same thing once.  It is not as simple as that.

When it comes to broccoli you are rarely allowed to refuse it, even as an adult.  If broccoli is involved in a meal and you choose not to eat it everyone is suddenly very concerned about your health.  It doesn't matter that it tastes bitter and bland all at once.  It doesn't matter that you can't mask its taste in butter, cheese or any substance known to man.  It doesn't even matter that its prickly little florets cling to your tongue, taste buds, and throat, refusing to be swallowed and putting up a desperate fight all the way down to your stomach.  No.  If you don't want broccoli you MUST be unhealthy.  Clearly you aren't eating enough fiber.  You must not be getting enough vegetables.  No other food will do.  You must eat the broccoli.

Well, I won't stand for it.  I've had enough of being told how wonderful broccoli is for me.  I just don't like it.  I'll eat other vegetables, and in great quantities too, if that will make you happy, but I'm not eating broccoli anymore.  I can get my vitamins from other sources.  I'll make sure my diet has enough fiber.  But I am through with broccoli.  I simply won't buy it and you can't make me eat it.  I AM an adult after all.  I can make this sort of decision for myself.  And yet, here I am staring at broccoli.  What happened? 

The other day my housemate was getting ready to leave for a week and was trying to empty out her refrigerator before she left.  Along with some other edible substances I suddenly found myself in possession of broccoli, that dreaded vegetable of tongue-clinging fame.  I didn't want to just throw it away.  That would have been wasteful and I hate wasting food.  This put me in an awkward position.  I realized I might have to suffer through eating the broccoli.  So, I placed it in my refrigerator with a heavy heart, postponing the inevitable torture for another day.

Then I had a brilliant idea.  I couldn't throw away the broccoli, but I could play with it.  I could turn my broccoli into an art project.  Then it would no longer be wasted by me AND I wouldn't have to eat it.  So I decided to take photos of broccoli that portrayed its true nature.  Photos that penetrated deep into broccoli's soul.  Photos that warned others about the true dangers of this horrifying vegetable.

Have you ever looked at broccoli and noticed how strange it looks with it's funny arms and leafy head?  Does it not seem a little creepy to you?  Can you imagine it with a pair of mean, slanting, narrowed eyes and a gaping mouth?

Can you not see a killer?  I can.  I'm just saying that maybe we shouldn't eat things that have faces like that.  Not so fast, you say, what harm could broccoli do?

Let us examine this case more closely.  Look closely at its face.

This is not the lovable face of a vitamin bearing vegetable.  This is the vicious face of a murderous veggie.  Now, let us think about the things that this face is capable of.  Is it the sort of face that could commit this kind of atrocity?

Killed by a murderous broccoli.

I think so.  Is it the sort of face that would also be capable of this?

Why, Broccoli, why?  What did the strawberry ever do to you?

Yes, I think it would.

To die so young... it is such a heartbreak.

Such senseless waste. 

Killer Veggie Strikes Again Murdering Innocent Fruit

This is the face of a heartless murderer.  It is the face of a monster capable of murdering innocent fruit.  And why you may ask?  Greed.  The distinction of being rich in fiber was not enough.  Broccoli envied the strawberry for it's nutritional value.  Strawberries do provide you with fiber, and vitamin K like broccoli does, but they also have vitamin A (for healthy skin), D (the crucial "sunshine vitamin"), E (to help build blood cells), C (about as much as an orange to prevent that troublesome scurvy), B (I don't know all of what it does, but it appears to be good for brain health) and a host of other nutrients including magnesium that are all good for your body.  What really made broccoli raging mad though was how good the strawberry tasted.  All those nutrients were packed inside one beautifully red, amazingly sweet and sugary, yet good for you, piece of fruit.  How could it be so?  The broccoli wanted to be the most nutritious so it decided to eliminate its competition.

If you want to help stop the fruit genocide...

or you are concerned about the possibility of an army of undead broccoli...

Act now!  Boycott broccoli!  Save the strawberries!  Prevent the Broccoli Zombie Apocalypse!  And enjoy your meals at last!

For the record, I am a healthy, moderately responsible adult.  I do not eat broccoli.  I do get enough fiber and vitamins and nutrients in my diet.  In case you don't believe me about strawberries and their inherent nutrients (and in light of the post I have just created I don't blame you), then check on strawberries yourself.  You can see a list of vitamins that strawberries contain and a chart of some of the other nutrients that strawberries and other fruits contain, from slightly more reputable sources.  I did warn you I was mad.  And I'm not even saying that we should never eat veggies.  I just don't want to eat things that look like this sort of face belongs on them.    

I don't trust them.  Can you blame me?  Look what they did to my beloved strawberries.  Now if you'll excuse me I have some fruit I need to consume.

Tea Time

 

I didn't always love tea.  But tea has slowly grown on me.  Now I find myself wishing for lovely warm cups of tea to greet me when I come home.  Maybe it's just the cold North Yorkshire weather that has finally gotten to me.  It is rather hard to imagine living here without tea.  And there is nothing quite as friendly as someone who is running to the kitchen asking if they can get you a cuppa.

Lazy afternoon chats with housemates over a nice cup of tea are simply wonderful weekend pastimes.  Of course, tea here in the UK can also mean dinner.  If someone has invited you round for tea they could mean a meal.  That caught me by surprise at first.  But I think I like the way tea is a part of the culture here.  Tea is food and drink.  It is comfortable and comforting.  Tea is friendly.  Tea belongs everywhere, even in the workplace.  And you know what?  I think I'll keep it.  I like having a nice cuppa every now and then.