Birthday Girl...the big One-Nine

Dear reader,



Well, hello there. And how are you today?

As you can probably guess from the title of this post, it's my birthday today. I am now 19 years old. It's sad really. I was just getting used to the idea of being 18, and now I'm suddenly a year older. Every time someone asks me how old I am I'll probably have to think for 30 seconds before I answer them. Which do you think is most embarrassing, dear reader? Looking like you're actually calculating your age on the spot, deducting your year of birth from the year you're in--and carry the one--or first saying you're one age, then having to take it back and say, oh I forgot, I'm actually this old. Yeah. I've actually done both, so...I don't know what that says about me.

I just pulled an all-nighter, the second or third one this week, I'm not entirely sure--the days kind of blurred together and I lost track of time about 18 hours in--followed by an extremely unhealthy breakfast at about seven this morning. I should cherish these years while they last. The years where my body is still young and buoyant enough that I can put all sorts of crap into it, and subject it to all sorts of crappy treatment, and not have it bloat to enormous proportions or run myself in the ground.


Anyway. I was looking at last year's Birthday post, and I've realized that I actually have grown somewhat over the past year. Well, not exponentially, you understand. But gradually. Very gradually. I've been maturing, I swear. And last year, I was just sitting around home and devolving into a state of boredom-induced vegetation. This year, I've been working. A lot. I'm working right this second, actually. Honest. I've been looking for a software to install my decrepit scanner into my Fujitsu-baby. 


There's an interesting story about that, actually. I just noticed I say 'actually' a lot. Oh, yeah, okay...the story. It happened like this: I was looking for my sad relic of a scanner, and found it in one of my Dad's cabinet drawers. I got it out from its dark corner where it had been very effectively collecting dust for the past few years. I checked around, no wires. No power supply cables, no USB cables as well. I figured, no problem, I'll just use the ones from the printer. The USB cable fit perfectly, but--cue gasp of horror--the power cable didn't. Desperate, I looked around for any one that looked like it would match. The hole was round for Pete's sake. I was pulling out the wires from all the laptops in the house, seeing as they were the only round power cables I could think of. I tried my Fujitsu-baby's one the last, and, lo and behold, it fit! The light came on and Fujitsu-baby made that 'du-DUH' sound computers make when something has connected successfully. I was so relieved, you wouldn't believe it.


And after that whole ordeal, of course, it just won't install. Of course that would happen. That's just how life works. You think everything is peachy-keen and hunky-dory...til you get that alert that says something is incompatible with something else, and the stupid machine didn't install properly. Would you like to reinstall? It's so annoying. Maybe I should switch to Mac after all. Do Mac-bookers have to deal with the kind of aggravation Microsoft users go through every time they turn on their computers?


Anyway. I'm still trying to install the hopelessly antiquated scanner. I'm cranky. Did I mention I haven't slept? At all? Since last night? Well, I'm mentioning it now. I was working, damn it! And this stupid, dilapidated scanner is seriously throwing a monkey bar into my schedule! We're supposed to finish the thrice-accursed thing this afternoon! It's already ten something! I'll never be ready on time! And I'm using way too many exclamation marks! Exclamation mark!


Sigh.


Oh my gosh, look at that! It's an abrupt topic change! So there's this song I'm really into recently. It's from the soundtrack of House Bunny, interestingly enough. Hey, don't dis the Farris, dear reader. The movie was...okay. Well, the music was good anyway. So the song is 'New Soul' by Yael Naim. She's French-Israeli, I think. I'm not sure if this song goes with this post at all, but I feel like it does somehow. Maybe I just really need to sleep. Enjoy the song, dear reader.












The girl in the middle of the video with the red hair isn't Yael Naim...I have no idea who she is or what she's doing there. I didn't make the video, so. Yeah. I love the part in the song where she goes "communi-cate". I love songs where the singers aren't native English speakers, then you have an excuse to sing the song in a foreign accent. Not that you really need an excuse, though.

Okay, I'm going now. It's 10:52 and the dusty artifact I call a scanner still isn't installing. I'll go flail my arms in panic somewhere you can't see me, dear reader. Til next time, I remain...





Yours,




Figgy the New Nineteen-Year Old Soul

Getting into the holiday spirit

Dear reader,


I'm back! It's funny, isn't it...I said I probably wasn't going to post up anything new til March or something, but instead I've been remarkably prolific in that department. 'Tis just further proof of my contrary nature. Anyway. Valentine's Day is just around the corner. Talk about your idiotic, over-commercialized holidays. I mean, Christmas is bad enough--seriously, you expect any person with an ounce of common sense to believe that a fat, red-clothed, white-bearded man whooshes around the globe in a sleigh pulled by magical flying reindeer and delivers presents to every single child in the space of one night. How exactly did kindly St Nicholas of Myra evolve into this way-too-jolly, rosy-cheeked, glorified cat burglar? Yes, glorified cat burglar. I mean, come on, he breaks into your house in the dead of night, and steals your cookies. The truth is, Christmas isn't about giving or receiving presents at all. Or Christmas trees. Or candy canes. Or elves. Or even snow. You know, it's summer in Australia during Christmas. Most people seem to forget that Christmas is Jesus Christ's birthday, and the only reason we celebrate it is to remember the day he was born, and to contemplate what the world would have been like if he hadn't. That's why it really ticks me off when people say Xmas instead of Christmas.

So, to get back to Valentine's. Oh, such a sweet holiday. Those naked, flying babies who look way too young to be handling a bow and arrow without adult supervision aren't scary or disturbing in the least. Have you ever noticed how well-meaning but painfully condescending adults warn little kids not to run with scissors, but then turn around and buy a card that's emblazoned with a design of swaddled infants with angel wings brandishing lethal weapons? It's just so silly. And what exactly is the relation between these infant cupids and St Valentine the martyr anyway? And do we really need a public holiday to remember to love someone? That's really sad. We should treat every day like it's Valentine's Day. Sans the arrow-yielding, barely-clothed babies, of course.

You know, some people refer to Valentine's as 'Singles Awareness Day', otherwise known as S.A.D. Don't get me wrong, dear reader. I'm not one of those bitter singles who pretend they're perfectly happy going solo, but are actually desperately lonely and just too proud to admit it. I'm one of those infuriating, genuinely-happy-to-be-single people, who are so independent and satisfied in their single-hood that it starts becoming obnoxious after a while. I don't think anyone should get into a relationship just to feel like they've achieved something in life. That's just not fair, to you or the unfortunate person who's just being used to boost your shattered self-esteem. I'm not denying that receiving a box of chocolates or an 'I Love You' card would be nice, romantic even, but the principle behind it is still silly to me. Why show your love only on specific days? Why not give your girlfriend, boyfriend, sister, cousin, grandmother, whatever, a present just for the heck of it? Hmmm, I wonder if they make 'Happy Wednesday' cards. If they don't, they should. And if they won't, I will.

Okay, I'm done bashing commercialized, consumer-oriented holidays now. Wow, I never realized what a hippie I am...stick it to the man! Power to the people! Next week's post topic is 'Easter: Bunnies and Eggs. What's Up With That?'

No, seriously...what's up with that?

And on that note, I leave you, dear reader. Til next time, I remain...

Yours,

Scrooge McFig