crock pot

So, I have this crock pot. It's a 5-quart Rival Crock Pot that I got from my mom, who isn't sure, but suspects she may have gotten it as a wedding gift in 1982. Either way, it's almost certainly at least as old as I am, and quite possibly older. It looks basically like the one at the right, just with a different floral design and color scheme.

It's a lovely crock pot, big enough for parties but not so big I can't use it for just Aaron and myself. It still works perfectly; in fact, the only drawback is that its plastic lid has been dropped and broken and superglued back together so many times that it just won't hold together anymore. After a combination duct-tape-and-superglue application failed to last more than a week, I gave up and started substituting a frying pan lid. It doesn't fit perfectly, but it keeps the thing covered, and laying a towel or some hot pads over the top keeps most of the heat in. It's not an ideal situation, but it has lasted me several weeks, so I was content to go on like that.

Then I got the bright idea to check online and see if they sold replacement lids. Unsurprisingly, that model, being two or three decades old, is no longer available, but surely, I thought, they might make a current one that's the same size, or close enough, that I could get a lid that would work. I couldn't find specific dimensions for the current models, so I emailed the company and explained the situation, and asked if they could recommend a lid of the right size.

The rep emailed me back and said very sorry, model no longer available, etc., but if you like, we will send you a comparable replacement unit for free. Okay, I replied, sounds great, as long as the lid fits, I don't care if it matches the pot. So I gave my name and address and waited.

Today, I got a box in the mail. They didn't send me a lid. They sent me a whole brand new crock pot. This crock pot, to be exact. A thirty dollar crock pot, for free, just because I emailed to ask about lid sizes. Not quite sure what I'm going to do with two crock pots, but I'm certainly not complaining. Thanks, Rival!

Recipe win!

I made up the best thing in the world today. It is autumn in a crockpot. I am posting the recipe for anyone interested in copying, and also so I don't forget it.

Autumn in a Crockpot

2 chicken breasts
1 medium butternut squash
2 medium sweet potatoes
2 stalks celery
2 medium carrots
4 green onions
2 chicken bouillon cubes
1 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp dried parsley
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
salt and pepper to taste

Chop chicken breasts, squash, and sweet potatoes in 1-inch cubes. Slice celery, carrots, and onions. Place in crockpot. Add water to cover and bouillon cubes. (Alternately, use chicken broth instead of water and omit bouillon cubes.) Add garlic powder, parsley, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Cook on high 4 hours.

Happy National Coming Out Day!

So, to begin. Hi. I'm bisexual. Some people already knew that. Some may not have. For those that didn't, it's not because I'm purposely keeping it a secret. I've been "out" since high school. But I am by nature a very private person, and for a lot of people, it's not a topic that comes up in conversation very often. It's not something you bring up immediately when you meet someone; and unless I get to know a person very well, or if a related political topic comes up in conversation (which, let's be honest, talking politics with people you've just met is rarely a good idea), it just isn't going to come up.

The fact that I'm bi, but in a long-term relationship with a man, is also part of the issue. If someone were wondering, for whatever reason, about my orientation, and the topic of my fiancé comes up (which is much more likely), then they just assume that I'm straight, and unless they state that assumption outright (and why would they?), then I have no reason to bring up the topic to correct them.

For a long time, I felt kind of bad, almost guilty, about all that. I've read about very light-skinned black people back in the Jim Crow days who would "pass" for white and escape some of the discrimination aimed at black people — it felt like that was what I was doing, even if unintentionally. Here I was, queer as a three dollar bill, but "passing" for straight, getting the undeserved benefit of all that tasty straight white privilege (can you hear the liberal guilt?).

It got worse when people talked about coming out as a political statement, as a necessary step toward equality — come out, they said, let people know you're there, because the more LGBT people someone knows personally, the more likely they are to support LGBT rights. It's harder to "otherize" someone you know personally. That is all true, and it made me feel like I wasn't doing my part to shed light on these issues — to further the cause, as it were.

There was one time, and only one, however, where the topic did arise, and I failed to speak up. There was a related news item on TV - it may have been when Massachusetts first began allowing gay marriage; I'm not sure - and a gay couple was interviewed briefly, talking about how happy they were about having their relationship legally recognized. Another party in the room with me, someone whom I care about deeply, someone who I know for a fact is generally a wonderful, kind, loving person, made a disgusted comment; I don't remember the exact wording, but I know the word "abomination" was involved. I froze. I was, in fact, dating a girl at that time, and was out to most of my friends. A dozen things buzzed through my head, but I didn't say any of them. I was scared. I didn't know what would happen if I said something. I wasn't surprised that this person didn't approve (this person being very conservative and religious, I would have been surprised if they had), but I was startled at the apparent vitriol in the remark, and I didn't say anything. I regretted it later, and still do, truth be told. It was an opportunity lost. But it did teach me that not saying anything is not an acceptable response*, and since then, I have always spoken up.

There is also the question of marriage. In a lot of places, same-sex marriage is still not legally recognized. The fact that the person I'm engaged to is a man means that particular bit of discrimination doesn't directly affect me. Again, looked at from a certain perspective, I'm "passing." There are some straight people who say they refuse to get married until same-sex marriage is legal in all states, because it's supporting a discriminatory system. When I first got engaged, I thought about that. I seriously wondered if I was wrong to want to get married when my friends in same-sex relationships couldn't. Again with the guilt.

Over time, I've come to realize that it is not my fault that people assume things. People will always make assumptions about all sorts of things, because it's easier than asking, and a lot of times, those assumptions will be wrong. (An interesting side note: I was talking with a female friend recently who is also bi, but she is dating a woman, and so of course, everyone assumes that she's a lesbian. Being bisexual leads to a lot of invisibility, from both sides.) Other people's assumptions are not my responsibility. As far as marriage goes, my refusing to get married will not change anything. Marriage is not a business you can boycott to pressure it for change. Yes, there are plenty of people who make money off the "wedding industry," but a) it's not a hegemonous group with a great deal of lobbying power, b) the ones looking at it from a financial perspective already support gay marriage, because yay more business, and the ones that don't generally won't be easily swayed by a boycott, and c) that's getting awfully indirect anyway. Is the system unfair? Yes, of course it is. But I don't have to sacrifice my own happiness in order to work toward greater equality and more happiness for everyone.

My responsibility is to live my life, be true to myself, and do my best to leave things a little better than how I found them. I can't change the world singlehandedly. But when an opportunity arises to do my small part, I take it. So happy Coming Out Day to all my friends, be you queer, straight, or anything in between, and the next time someone says something negative about non-straight people, I hope you'll think of me, your friendly neighborhood bisexual, and maybe question what they're saying, even just a little.

_{*Of course, this doesn't apply when a person's safety or livelihood is in danger. Luckily, I have never personally had to deal with such a situation.}

On coincidence, creation, and really pretty flowers

_{[Note: Please know that I'm not trying to disparage or put down anyone who does believe in a god or gods; I'm simply articulating my own viewpoint and why it appeals to me personally. Any friendly counter or debate is, as always, perfectly welcome.]}

When two old friends who haven't seen each other for years meet on a street corner because they agreed ahead of time to meet there and catch up, there is nothing particularly striking about it. However, when the same two friends randomly bump into one another on the same street corner, without any prior arrangement, it suddenly becomes remarkable — that's the potential stuff of romance novels or Hollywood movies.

In the same way, if you are working from the premise of an omniscient, omnipotent being who can just point a finger and go "BAM! Universe!" then in a way, everything about that creation loses some of its enchantment. Of course things are amazing — if you are an all-powerful being who can make things however you damn well please, why would you bother making anything lame?

On the other hand, when you start from a premise of more or less random chaos, and then look at the world we have now, it's quite frankly astounding. Think of all the processes that had to come together in exactly the right way at exactly the right time to create the trees and plants in a tropical rainforest, the adorable housepets we film and put on YouTube, the gorgeous array of stars in a clear night sky. Think of all the physical, chemical, and biological machinations going on for thousands and thousands of years that took us from being apes poking things with sticks to being modern humans with complex societies, brains capable of speech, extensive abstract thought, and unparalleled potential for creativity and innovation.

If your favorite flower exists because an omnipotent being said, "Hey, we need some more color up in this place — ZAP — new flower!" then of course it's lovely, because why would it be anything otherwise? An omnipotent being has no reason to create mediocrity. But if that flower exists because somewhere down the line, a dozen or so generations ago, two different random species happened to be growing next to one another and got cross-pollinated, creating that exact shape, shade, and scent that makes the flower so beautiful to you — isn't that amazing? The wind could just as easily have been blowing the other way, and then the flower wouldn't exist. Isn't that something to appreciate and be thankful for?

Laura Ingalls Wilder is rolling in her grave.

Somewhere along the line, this clown named T.L. Tedrow decided he should write stories about Laura Ingalls Wilder (of Little House on the Prairie fame) as a grownup. The series is called The Days of Laura Ingalls Wilder and it is, in short, a whole lot of garbage. I picked the first one up at the library on a whim, because I am a huge dork and absolutely love anything related to the Little House books, and was appalled at how terrible it was. This evening, I spent a not insignificant amount of time writing a review on Amazon of said book (which certainly doesn't deserve to have this much thought dedicated to it), and since this is my blog and I can do what I want, I will now post this review for your edification and entertainment.

My review of Missouri Homestead (The Days of Laura Ingalls Wilder, Book 1)

I picked this up at my local library expecting something like the other spin-offs of the Little House series (the Martha, Charlotte, Caroline, and Rose Years books). I grew up reading and loving the original series, and I'm also a fan of historical fiction in general. Coming from that background, I was sorely disappointed and even upset by the liberties Mr. Tedrow has taken with this material.

First off, while I understand that historical fiction is by necessity "fiction," this book completely disregards the things we *do* know about the characters. Almanzo calling Laura "Laury" instead of "Bess" is particularly jarring. Also pointless and irritating was the name change of their farm from "Rocky Ridge" to "Apple Hill." Worse yet, Tedrow seems to completely ignore nine books' worth of existing characterization and turns the thoughtful, determined yet caring Laura into a headstrong, domineering harpy. "Demanding" indoor plumbing, indeed! Almanzo is similarly flattened, being presented as little more than a dimwitted hillbilly. Their relationship is turned into a cheap sitcom caricaturization in which their interactions seem to consist entirely of bickering.

Tedrow's own characters, the "Youngun" children, are absolute fluff. The simple fact that they have rhyming names - Larry, Terry, and Sherry - should clue you in to the level of thought that went into these caricatures. (Also, "Youngun"? Not a name. Just sayin'.) He clearly added them to add easy appeal to younger children, but they end up being just the comic relief, and have no bearing on the main plot.

Even worse is the character of Maurice Springer. I'm not sure why he's there at all, honestly, as he does nothing to progress the plot. It's also problematic that, as the lone black character in the books (apart from his wife, Eula Mae, who is little more than a name on the page), he seems to exist primarily to aid and abet the Youngun children in their hijinks. Whatever that is, it's not progressive.

Speaking of the main plot, it's paper-thin. Laura is writing a column for the local newspaper (which, to Tedrow's credit, she actually did do) and gets tangled up in a plot by some unscrupulous lumbermen to make it look like a fungus is attacking trees in the area so that they can cut down more of them. The bad guys as characters have all the nuance and depth of Snidely Whiplash; even for a children's book, I was disappointed. It read more like a cheap Nancy Drew knockoff than a Little House book.

In short, if the author hadn't requisitioned the Laura Ingalls Wilder name, this book would be mediocre at best - a useless but mostly harmless piece of juvenile fluff. As it is, I honestly think it's an affront to Laura's name, and the author should be ashamed of himself for trying to ride someone else's coattails, instead of writing a story that's actually worth reading.

Are you misquoting the Bible, or just the Kennedys?

_{(Or were the Kennedys misquoting the Bible, and everyone else is just confused?)}

To business. I've seen three versions of the same quote today; I will reproduce them here:

"To those who have been given much, much will be expected."

"To those whom much is given, much is required."

"To whom much is given, much is expected."

There exists the same problem in all three sentences; do you see it? Rearrange the second one and it becomes clearer:

*Much is required to those whom much is given.

Still confused? Try replacing the noun phrase (which is incomplete, for the same reason the sentences are wrong, which I'll explain below) with a simple noun:

*Much is required to George.

Now you see it, don't you? You can't require something to someone. "Expect" and "require" don't take an indirect object like that. I can't expect you some money, or require my friend luck, or anything like that.

The problem here is that there are two different verbs which require two different prepositions. You give something to someone, but you expect (or require) something from them. In this case, "expect" has lost its own preposition ("from"), so it stole "given"'s preposition ("to"), leaving the noun phrase "those whom much is given" woefully incomplete.

A correct (if slightly wordier) paraphrase would be, "From those to whom much has been given, much is expected." Or, more straightforwardly (although less poetically), "Much is expected from those who have been given much."

Regarding the post title, I've seen this quote attributed to many people, most often various Kennedys, but it originally comes from the Bible, specifically, the second half of Luke 12:48. In the NIV, it's translated as, "From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked." The KJV says it thus: "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more."

It's a good sentiment; it deserves to be expressed properly.

hot fudge pneumonia

So, the problem with ordering a milkshake that has hot fudge in it is that inevitably some hot fudge will get stuck in your straw. So then you suck on the straw to try and get the hot fudge out, but once there's room for air to get through, you've still got a bunch of hot fudge stuck to the sides that just won't come out. So now you have a straw full of hot fudge that you can't eat. This is a problem.

So now I'm sitting here sucking on my fudge-straw like it's full of crack or something, and I just know I'm going to end up inhaling a bunch of fudge. I will probably choke and die. Or, failing that, I will end up with hot fudge pneumonia. They will take x-rays and be like, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but your lungs look delicious. It will probably be fatal."

Damn you, Steak 'n' Shake!

BIIIIIIIIIIcycle!

Bike season is officially here! I took a nice little pleasure ride before dinner, and then after dinner I rode to Wal-mart to get a new inner tube for my back tire, which has had a slow leak for a while now (and has already been patched once). It was quite pleasant, except for a bit on the way back when I couldn't see!

I'll elaborate - it was already dark out, and the street lights on Seminary are rather far apart. I've got a red blinking light on the back of my bike, but my headlight met an untimely death a couple summers ago, so while traffic could see me from behind, I hit a couple bumps that were rather larger than I was expecting, due to my not being able to see properly. (I know I ought to replace the light, but I ride at night so rarely that I'm a bit hesitant to shell out the dough.) But I was only on Seminary as far as the first cross street, and on the other streets, traffic was much lighter, and I managed to arrive home unscathed.

I always forget, when I've been stuck indoors for too long, that real biking is rather more work than the stationary bikes at the gym - not only are my legs tired, but so are my arms and back! It's a good tired, though. If I'm not too achy in the morning, perhaps I'll bike to work. I want to get back into that habit, since I'm lucky enough to live so close that's a viable option. Yay bikes!

Also, on a related note, naked ladies:

H*ck Finn

In case you haven't heard, a "Twain scholar" named Alan Gribben, with the help of a small publishing company called NewSouth, is publishing an edited version of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn which removes all instances of the "n-word," replacing it with the word "slave." Huck is a regular on lists of banned books, generally due to its use of this word, and Gribben says he hopes that its removal will let the book reach a wider audience by removing the offensive content. A laudable intention, I'll grant, but bowdlerizing Twain is not the way to accomplish it.

Gribben says the inspiration for the project came from comments he heard from teachers: "After a number of talks, I was sought out by local teachers, and to a person they said we would love to teach [Tom Sawyer], and Huckleberry Finn, but we feel we can't do it anymore. In the new classroom, it's really not acceptable." I would argue that the fault here lies not with Twain's language, but rather with the teachers. I read Huck Finn in high school, and it was not a big deal. The teacher did not make a speech of any sort before we read the book, and offered no disclaimers or apologies for its content; instead, we had spirited class discussion about the book, including the language used, its meaning, Twain's intentions as a satirist, and the implications of various aspects of the text, both in the 19th century and today. If students cannot understand the concept of context, then it is the teacher's job to explain it to them. If the teacher is uncomfortable talking about difficult subjects with their students to the point where they simply refuse to do it, then that person is not qualified be a teacher. Rather than "less offensive" books, we need teachers who are willing and able to properly teach their students, which for English teachers includes helping them examine satire, providing proper context for literature, and not shying away from problematic parts of books.

(As far as number of people reading the book, it is also worth pointing out that there is a not-insignificant number of people, including teenagers, who set out to read books precisely because they have been banned, as promoted by the ALA's Banned Books Week, among others.)

Gribben also added a personal anecdote about his daughter's experience with the book: "My daughter went to a magnet school and one of her best friends was an African-American girl. She loathed the book, could barely read it." I don't doubt it. But that is the very point: satire makes people uncomfortable. It points out societal problems, in the hope that ridicule will make people think about what is going on and hopefully eradicate the problem. It's the same thing Jonathan Swift was doing when he advocated eating babies, and it's the same thing Jon Stewart did a couple weeks ago when he pointed out the hypocrisy of the Republicans who were blocking the 9/11 responders health care bill in Congress. The fact that the n-word still makes people uncomfortable only shows that racism still exists today, and far from being censored or banned, books like Huck Finn neet to be read as they are so that people continue to think about these issues that make them uncomfortable, and what they can do to stop them.

Another thing to take into account is Twain himself. He was on the record numerous times during his life as being absolutely opposed to people changing his work. Furthermore, at the beginning of Huck Finn, he puts the following note:

IN this book a number of dialects are used, to wit: the Missouri negro dialect; the extremest form of the backwoods Southwestern dialect; the ordinary "Pike County" dialect; and four modified varieties of this last. The shadings have not been done in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support of personal familiarity with these several forms of speech.

I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers would suppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and not succeeding.

It says right there that the language used in the book's dialogue was done "painstakingly" — Twain knew what he was doing and he did it on purpose. And this isn't a matter of something being lost due to language change, either; he meant exactly what it sounds like to us today. Some words were considered perfectly acceptable in the past, and no longer are; for example, in the past, black people could be described as "colored" in polite conversation, but today that would be a faux-pas, at best. The "n-word" is not one of those words. It has never been anything but an insult, an offensive term for people thought to be inferior. The difference is that modern society has, for the most part, accepted that people are not superior or inferior because of race, and so it is no longer considered acceptable to use that word.

Removing the "n-word" from Huck Finn is tantamount to whitewashing. Sure, the racism is still there, but it's not nearly as viscerally affecting to hear someone called a "slave" as it is to hear them called a "n----r." The satire is rendered toothless when the ugliness it's pointing at has been removed. Sure, people who wouldn't have read the book before might be a bit more likely to read it, but what's the point if it's not the same book?

plastic bags

So, if you've ever been grocery shopping with me, you've probably heard me gripe about inefficient baggers. It's a pet peeve of mine. You know what I'm talking about — the checkout person who uses a separate bag for every. single. item. you've got, or who double bags your milk, even though it's already got a handle on it and really doesn't need a bag to begin with. I like to consider myself at least interested in the welfare of the environment, and while I know plastic bags aren't the worst sin in the world, I like using as few of them as possible. Plus, I hate having them lying around my house. Lately, I've finally started remembering to take my reusable cloth shopping bags with me, and I love them dearly. I've got a large one, a medium-sized one, and two small ones, and those four bags are big enough for just about any shopping trip.

Anyway. I just got back from Wal-Mart, where I did my weekly grocery shopping. Since I'm only shopping for myself this week (the boyfriend is home with his parents for break), I just took the one large one, figuring it would be plenty big.

I ended up buying a little more than I expected, because the frozen dinners I take to work for lunch were on sale, but I still didn't think it would be too much for my bag. Apparently the checkout girl did not agree, because she put some things in my bag, and then proceeded to use three more of the plastic bags (into one of which she put only a small bag of chopped walnuts).

When I got to the front door, I stopped and stacked the frozen dinners more neatly in the reusable bag, and lo and behold, there was suddenly plenty of room for everything I'd bought, minus the 1/2 gallon of milk, which I had planned to carry anyway. Then I walked over and dropped the three extra bags in the bag recycling bins.

I feel like this is becoming more and more common. Granted, I don't have any evidence to back this up, but just in my own experience, I don't remember my mother coming home with zillions of plastic bags every time we went to the grocery. In fact, we usually asked for paper bags.* Of course, most stores don't even have those anymore. But anyway, assuming the overuse of plastic bags is indeed becoming more common, I think these recycling bins are the problem.

Now, don't get me wrong, I think it's great that we can recycle these bags instead of just throwing them away (since most curbside services won't accept them), but the problem is that a lot of people don't. They forget to take them back to the store, or they just don't bother. But the people working in the stores think that it doesn't matter how many of them they use, because they can be recycled.

The three R's are "reduce, reuse, & recycle," in that order. The very first step should be to reduce the amount of materials we use in the first place. If there's less of the stuff lying around taking up space, then there's less to worry about recycling, or being leftover and going to a landfill. Next is "reuse," which a lot of people do with plastic bags, at least to some extent — you can use them to line small wastebaskets, and you can carry stuff around in them. But ultimately, they are flimsy and cheap, and you can only use them for so many things before they get holes in them or get really gross and you can't use them anymore. "Recycle" is the final step, the last resort: if you can't use it for anything else, recycle it and turn it into something new (in the case of most plastic bags, that will be composite lumber). Recycling is definitely an important step, but people must make the effort to do it, and it must be complementary to the other steps; it cannot replace them wholesale.

Ideally, I think every store should just be like Aldi's — make you pay (a little bit, but something) for every bag you get. It's not enough to be cost prohibitive if you need a bag, but it's enough to make you think, "Oh, hey, I don't need a separate bag for every single item I've got."

Also, they should implement Aldi's cart system — it's just a quarter, but somehow you never ever see carts sitting around in their parking lots. But that's a rant for another day.

_{*Paper bags have their own environmental problems, of course, but I like them better because they are bigger, sturdier, and eligible for curbside recycling. Also, if all else fails, at least they are biodegradable.}

Put some clothes on!

So, I was clearing out the inbox for my "junk" email account, and I came across a message from Knox urging people to submit their favorite memories of the college's outgoing president, who is retiring at the end of the academic year. Here is a screenshot of the message. Pretty standard, no? I just have one question: is that a woman in a bra behind Roger in the library? I mean, maybe it's some sort of sports top or something. Maybe. But still. That's the library!

The Financial Times is stupid

So, if a nonsubscriber (like myself) goes to the Financial Times' website and tries to click through to an article, it takes you to the page for the article, but the page remains blank and a box pops up instead saying, "FT.com articles are only available to registered users and subscribers. Register FREE now for increased access" and then there's a link that says "Register Here." If you click to close the box, it just takes you back to the front page.

BUT, if you search with Google and it returns an article from FT, you can just click straight through and read the article, no problem. Do a site-specific search and it's even the exact same results you get from the search on their own website, except you can actually read the articles.

Also, if you try to copy and paste so much as one sentence from one of their articles (say, to pull out a quote and comment on it in a blog post), when you try to paste it, you get the following:

Please use the link to reference this article. Do not copy & paste articles which is a breach of FT.com's Ts&Cs (www.ft.com/servicestools/help/terms) and is copyright infringement. Send a link for free or email ftsales.support@ft.com to purchase rights. http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/5bb39488-ea99-11df-b28d-00144feab49a.html#ixzz15VXwqCMB

The development of a monetary system to succeed “Bretton Woods II”, launched in 1971, will take time.

Take note: the final sentence there is the one I was trying, for the purpose of this exercise, to copy-paste. So not only can anyone easily circumnavigate their subscriber wall, but they piss and moan about not copy-pasting their articles, while still allowing you to do it. There is nothing stopping me from deleting that little please-use-the-link paragraph.

Seriously, FT, a big part of blogging is pulling quotes from news stories to comment on them. The message doesn't happen when I try to copy-paste a single character, or even a couple of words, so clearly you have the ability to specify how much is too much to copy and paste; a single sentence does not an article make, but it does make a nice teaser quote to get an interested party to come read the actual article. And if you're that worried about people copying your articles wholesale, don't allow them to do it at all. You clearly already know how to mess with the copy-paste function, so you can't be entirely computer-illiterate. The way it works now, it only ticks off people who are legitimately trying to discuss your article, and does nothing to actually prevent people from stealing it.

The way it stands, you've managed to tick off legit reader/commenters like myself, while at the same time doing nothing to stop actual thieves. And now, instead of a blog post discussing your article, I have written a blog post about how stupid your website is. Well done.

How Baloo Ruined Veteran's Day

So, I've seen a couple people quoting John 15:13 in their Facebook statuses for Veteran's Day. It's a fitting quote: "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends."

But all I can think of, every time I see it, is that scene from Disney's Jungle Book. You know what I'm talking about, don't lie.



And then he jumps up and is all okay and everybody's happy and they sing. No solemnity whatsoever. Dammit, Baloo, you're ruining Veteran's Day for me!

Although, I don't really like being solemn anyway, so I guess I don't really mind all that much.

Facebook apps will eat your children

Hi, everyone. Yes, I'm still alive. I've been meaning to get back here and post for a while, but every time I thought of something I wanted to write about, it was like, really? That is what's making you break your (accidental) blog-silence after this long? So finally I figured, screw it, it's got to be something, may as well be this. So here, a post about, yes, Facebook.

So, ragging on Facebook for being a menace to people's privacy seems to have become the thing to do. To me, some of these complaints seem legit; others, not so much. But sometimes, things just aren't that big a deal. And furthermore, there comes a point when the fault is no longer Facebook's, and people need to take responsibility for their own online activity. I've seen a number of stories about this latest issue, but this Huffington Post article seems to give it a pretty good overview.

Readers Digest Condensed Version: popular apps like Farmville have been "leaking" their users' personally identifiable information to ad companies, namely their FB ID numbers.

And apparently, this is a HUGE PROBLEM. HUGE. Do you realize what potentially lethal information they get from this? They get - brace yourself - your name. Scary, right?

According to the EFF guy quoted in the article, "The problem is that ad companies can know who you are at all." But the thing is, well, they really don't. I mean, unless your name is Snotface McJingleheimer Hammerpants, your name probably isn't that memorable to most people. A lot of times, it's not even a uniquely identifying feature. Try it - search for "Andrea Johnston" on Facebook. I'm not by a long shot the only one that comes up. I know three different people named Sarah Williams. Even my mother's name, which is relatively unique, comes up with more than one hit on Facebook. Names are not as unique as people think. If you do have a fairly unique name and you're particularly worried about it, you can even change your Facebook name; I know people that go by first name + last initial, first name + middle name, or even their D&D character names. There's no reason you have to use your complete, real name.

And even if you do, that's still all they are guaranteed to get. If they get anything else, it's your fault.

Now, I realize there have been complaints about how complicated Facebook's privacy controls are, but the current configuration, if you actually look at the page and read through your options, is really not that difficult. I stand by what I said. As things currently stand, if you fuck up your Facebook privacy settings, it is not Facebook's fault. It is yours, because you didn't read the options, and therefore you didn't set up your privacy controls properly. If you can't read, you shouldn't be on the internet. If you can't take the time to understand what you're doing with your personal information, you shouldn't be on Facebook. It's as simple as that.

Everything on your profile, including information you put up, things you "like," and things you post, has the option to be visible to "Everyone," "Friends of Friends," "Friends Only," or some combination of people and/or friend lists that you can choose yourself.

Now, if you have some portion of your profile set so that "Everyone" can see it, then yes, that information will be available to anyone who navigates to your page, which would be possible with your FB ID number. Or by searching for you and clicking on your name. It's not hard.*

So what's a concerned citizen to do? Is there some arcane magic spell one must know to protect their information? Well, no, actually, it's much more simple than that. Just don't set anything to be visible to "Everyone." Then, voila, even if an ad company tries to get info from your page, or if some creeper manages to arrive there, all they can see is your name, gender, and profile pic. For even more caution, you can refuse to list your gender on your profile (I did), and you can make your profile pic be something that's not your identifiable face. (Closeup of your left eye, picture of your cat, snapshot of the Eiffel Tower from your trip to Paris - there are any number of options.) And as I said before, you can go by something that is not your real, complete name. Now, no one who is not friends with you, be it an ad company or an internet creeper, has access to any identifying information whatsoever about you. And all this can be completed in less than five minutes with a few clicks of your mouse.**

As far as applications go, there is also a page in your privacy settings specifically dedicated to them. Some apps require you to let them access certain parts of your profile; they tell you this when you add them, and you can choose to allow them access and use them, or just not use them. I can assure you, no Facebook app is that necessary. Others have optional settings that you can control, also from this page. This is also the page where the one legitimately creepy factor shows up: apps your friends use can see some of your information, whether you have added them or not. BUT, never fear, you also have control over this: in the "Info accessible through your friends" section, just uncheck every box, and then they can no longer see that info. I'll agree that the default setting should not be to share this info automatically, but if you actually read the updates, they do tell you when they add things like this. And as I said, it is very simple to just uncheck every box. Issue solved.

As to the larger issue, I'm not saying that Facebook is always blameless, and I'm not saying that it's not a greedy, money-hungry company looking to make dough off advertising to its users. But that is what the internet (and indeed, a lot of modern media) is all about. They (and their advertisers) aren't out to steal your identity, and it is in their best interest to make sure that people who are don't have access to your info. And if you properly set up your privacy settings, they won't have the required info to do so anyway. As the guy said at the end of the article, "the worst harm is that someone delivers to you a more targeted ad." And if you don't want that to happen, you can just do like I did and install adblock, and you'll never see ads on Facebook anyway.

tl;dr: Stop whining and take responsibility for your own information.


<sub>*Unless you've set your profile not to come up in searches, which you can also do without too much difficulty, from the "Privacy Settings" page.

**It will take longer if you go to the trouble of making friend lists and customizing each setting, but if you're in a hurry, it is very easy to just set everything to "Friends Only," and that will have you covered for a start. You can go back and change it later, if you so desire, when you've got more time to tweak things.</sub>

nothing of interest, I'm afraid

I was going to write a blog post yesterday, about something which I'm sure was very interesting, but then I had to do homework and I forgot what it was.

My life is boring lately, so I have nothing to write about.

Well, not boring. Just not interesting in ways that translate to blog-posts.

Classes are going well. There's a party this weekend. That's pretty much it. More to come if I ever come up with something interesting again.

I'm sure I will. I just have to start paying attention to the news again.

I'm rambling. I should be in bed. Good night, all!

um...

So, I'm sitting here on the couch, watching PBS Create, halfheartedly surfing teh interwebz and trying to decide if I should get some more Goldfish crackers or just go to bed. My brother, lying on the other end of the couch, is gently snoring, having long ago fallen asleep. Just as I finally decide against the Goldfish, Michael sits up, eyes still closed, and says (perfectly clearly), "Das ist gut, ja?"* then lies back down and resumes snoring.

O_o

_{*Forgive me if that is horribly misspelled; my scant German study was brief and long ago.}

mess

I haven't been able to sleep at night recently. I stay up all night doing nothing of interest or importance on the computer, and then when I hear the alarm clocks start going off in the morning, I quickly turn off the lights and try to fall asleep before everyone gets up and sees that I stayed up all night again. (I'm trying to set a good example — or at least not set a bad one — for Michael and Dakota, you see.) When I finally do fall asleep, I sleep all morning and wake up around eleven if I'm lucky and then I feel like a slug for the rest of the day, and it's so hard to get anything done. It's pretty much the opposite of the first part of last week.

This creates two problems: 1) I have things I really need to be doing that aren't getting done, and 2) staying up all night on the computer makes me feel angsty. I'm revisiting trains of thought I thought I'd thoroughly worn out in high school, and they don't satisfy me anymore, but nothing else does either, and that makes me angstier still. It's meta-angst.

I think the problem here is my protracted transition from summer back to school, partially caused and then compounded by the unexpected developments and general chaos of the past week or so, the biggest chunk of which is the loss of my room. Okay, to explain:

Through a long series of events which is not mine to relate here, my cousin Dakota, who is fifteen, has moved in with us for the time being, and is living in my room. Which is perfectly fine by me, since I hardly use it at all, even when I am home, and I'm leaving for school very shortly anyway. However, this is what really began all the upheaval for me, because it's one thing to clean out Michael's room (which we did for the new school year), put away what he wants to keep and throw away what he doesn't. It's quite another to clean out three years' worth of stuff from my room that's never really gotten put away, since I'm only home during the summers and mostly just use it as storage. Turning it back into a usable living space for someone who's not me (meaning I have to put all my little knickknacks and things somewhere out of the way so she'll have room to live in there and not feel crowded out by somebody else's junk) was pretty much a task of biblical proportions.

And of course, the great difficulty is, I now have all this stuff that I've taken out of my room so she'll have a place for her stuff to go in, and now what do I do with it? Most of it I'm keeping and taking to school, so it's not like I can just put it all in garbage bags and be rid of it, but a lot of it (namely clothes, shoes, etc.) I'm still using, and will be until at most a day or two before I leave, which isn't for another week yet. So I'm sleeping on the couch in the living room, my clean clothes are stacked up in an open suitcase downstairs, my shoes are in three different corners of the upstairs, and I've just basically spread myself all over the house. Which is exactly what we're trying to get the other two, especially Michael, not to do, so now I feel like a giant hypocrite, telling him he can't leave his backpack in the living room while I sit digging through my pile of laundry next to the couch.

It also means things are just incredibly cluttered. Much as I try to keep all my stuff organized and together, without a place to actually put it away, it just doesn't work. This is compounded by the fact that I did so much cleaning, organizing, and putting away last week in Michael's room and mine/Dakota's, that now I'm thoroughly sick of it, and this is further not helped by the sheer size of this mess. Sure, it's just one person's junk, but now instead of cleaning one small 10x12 room at a time, I have to clean basically every other room in the house. And that means the big rooms: the living room, family room, and the kitchen. And I have to clean them up without having any real place to put my stuff. I'm going in circles here. But you see my dilemma, yes?

It's the kind of mess that stresses me out, and if you know me, you'll know that those are few and far between; I'm usually quite alright with a certain level of controlled chaos in my life. But that is chaos in my room, my own personal space, not the house's public spaces. This chaos, being out where everybody sees it, is not controlled to my satisfaction, and so it's making me lash out and obsessively organize everything else I can get my hands on. I've been compulsively picking up after the kids, barking at them to put their things away, making sure their homework is done and put in its proper folder, things like that. I've been planning and cooking evening meals each day just for the calming effect of having a sit down dinner where we all sit and talk about how our day went. I've been doing dishes with far more relish than normal, because it is a task I can finish, and the sight of the clean, empty countertop is just so goddamned soothing. I've been doing the laundry voluntarily and asking to do the grocery shopping, because, again, these are small tasks that I can finish, and that makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something. I've turned into a perfect little housewife, and it doesn't even bother me, except the house is still a mess and I can't really fix it until I leave. How irksome.

politics and mundanities

_{(Is "mundanities" a word? I don't think it is. Ah well.)}

So, summer is swiftly drawing to a close, and I find myself in the midst of various upheavals, as usual. Ah well. Here's what's going on lately, in no particular order:

-I was on TV tonight! Our Representative, Dan Burton (R-IN), held a town hall meeting about the proposed healthcare legislation, so of course I had to go and speak my piece, and on channel 15's 11:00 news, they showed me up at the microphone asking my question. It was very exciting, if I do say so myself, and I do.

-Summer jobs are winding down. I've been done with Stride Rite for a few weeks now (oh, it is nice), and tonight was my last night at Pizza Hut for the summer. I took on cleaning my mom's church again, basically for just this month until she could find somebody new, because the people she hired last year quit, and next week will be the last week for that. Yeah, I worked a lot this summer.

-My brother is officially a middle schooler now. He started 6th grade on Monday. He seems to like it so far. Mom's sending him to a little private K-12 school in Fort Wayne, and it seems like a really good place; I'm glad for him.

-My cousin has moved in with us. She's fifteen, and through a long series of events, she ended up going to the same school as Michael, and needing a place to stay, so I volunteered my room (since I'm leaving for school in less than two weeks anyway). Of course, that meant I had to clean my room (all my junk was just kind of lying in there; I've been sleeping on the couch all summer), but that's finally done, and as soon as I get all my crap packed up for school, the house will finally be more or less de-cluttered.

-Another cousin of mine is having a get-together this weekend at his lake house in Michigan. I am rather psyched. It sounds like it might be kind of cold for lake antics, but there will still be campfire doings and game playing and the like. It will be mad good times. And a canoe trip! Mustn't forget the canoe trip. :D

-And of course, most importantly, 12 days until Knox!

excitement

So, I am generally of the opinion that, while some things are easier (and just as good) pre-made or from a mix, one should try making just about everything from scratch at least once, just for the experience of doing so. In keeping with this idea, I had been considering for awhile now trying to make homemade pasta.

So this weekend, having tried and failed to stay awake during the day on Saturday, I instead stayed up all of Saturday night, Facebooking and watching PBS Create (one of the new digital channels, which is amazing), and there was this Italian cooking show, and the lady wasn't making pasta, but it reminded me of my intention to do so, so then around 8 AM, I drove into town and bought groceries, including some stuff to go with my pasta, and then I came back home and got to work.

Fun fact: making pasta is HARD. Not complicated — it's just flour and eggs — but physically taxing. Once you get your dough made, you have to knead it for 10-15 minutes so it gets nice and elastic-y, and then you have to roll it out flat.

Holy God.

You have to get it really really thin, like, about the thickness of a dime, or slightly less. I don't have a pasta machine, so I got to do it the old fashioned way, with a rolling pin. And this isn't like rolling out a pie crust — no, this stuff'll fight you every step of the way. It doesn't want to be flat; you have to make it obey, dammit. Cooking has never made me so tired!

But, once I got it rolled out, things got easier. I had decided I was going to make ravioli, so I whipped up some filling. I used some fake (vegetarian) ground beef that I found in the freezer, and I put in some onions, a homemade tomato-pesto sauce of my own design, and some freshly grated parmesan cheese, and hoo boy, it was delicious. So then I cut little rectangles of pasta, put on a glob of the filling, and crimped the edges to make raviolis, and then I boiled them up and served them tossed with melted butter with herbs. My mother said it was very good, and my brother (who claims to not like pasta) had two helpings. It was, by all accounts, an unmitigated success.

Next on my list of things to make from scratch: bread.

^_^

In other news, the summer keeps on rolling by, and the latter half of this week finally promises some fun to look forward to. I put in my notice and Wednesday will be my last day of work at Stride Rite, which will be nice. I mean, I don't mind third shift, but it will be a refreshing change of pace to wake up in the morning, instead of going to bed in the morning. I have a hard time convincing myself to sleep when such a beautiful day is breaking right outside my window. Also, I look forward to not totally screwing up my sleep schedule every weekend just so I can be awake when other people are; I've been cranky far more often than is normal for me this summer as a result of not getting enough sleep, and I don't like being cranky.

And, better yet, Wednesday night Kim will get here, and then on Thursday she and I and my mom and Michael and one of Michael's friends will all go to Indiana Beach, which will be mad good times. I am long overdue for some rollercoastering. Then I have to work at Pizza Hut on Saturday, but when I am done, I will be going down to Kim's to hang out there for a few days, which promises to be quite pleasant.

All in all, once I'm done with this Stride Rite business, it's looking like I might actually have some fun and relaxation this summer after all. I'm definitely psyched.

recipe fail

I would like to point out, for anyone interested, that THIS does not constitute a recipe. Here, I'll just copy-paste, for extra convenience:

CHOCOLATE CAKE WITH PEANUT BUTTER
FUDGE FROSTING

1 Duncan Hines devils food cake mix
1 can Pillsbury chocolate fudge frosting
3 tbsp. peanut butter

Bake cake according to package directions. Cool. Add 3 tablespoons peanut butter to frosting and mix well. Frost cake. Kids love it!

Now, dear recipe poster, kindly ask yourself the following question: IF I HAD CAKE MIX AND STORE-BOUGHT FROSTING, WHY WOULD I BE LOOKING FOR A RECIPE, YOU DUMBFUCK?!

Ahem. I got off work early, so I am making cake. It seemed the logical thing to do.

That is all.