Excited - I made the last minute discovery that tonight is Hip Hop Karaoke Toronto, AND that it's a competition. I haven't had the pleasure of going to an HHK show since I performed in one in MTL, so needless to say, I can't fucking wait.
Smelling: Autumn. My window is open letting some fresh air circulate through my inexplicably humid apartment. It's still crisp and fresh out, and I love it.
Hearing:
I took a break from my morning hip hop routine (post work out I'm so wired that nothing seems more appropriate than Wu Tang) to remind myself of the Staves. I saw these girls open for Bon Iver and I absolutely love them. They are such exceptional vocalists. Give 'em a listen
Tasting:
Coffee with a generous splash of rice milk. I tend to drink my coffee black, but I had a dream I drank a sweet and creamy coffee, and on the way back from the gym it was all I wanted. Success.
Seeing:
an apartment that desperately needs to be cleaned.
I have been unable to hide my penchant for all things 90s from many of my new law school acquaintances. Given this reputation, on a day that should have been spent ceaselessly reading case briefs, I found myself in the library, staring open mouthed in horror at my laptop screen when a classmate sent me this clip:
Being in the library, I watched this clip on mute. I don't think my reaction was entirely different to that upon most people in the 1940s seeing clips from concentration camps; my jaw dropped, eyes went wide, I looked around for someone to help me make sense of what I was seeing, and clapped my hand over my offensively slack jaw. Ok, furbies aren't the moral equivalent of a concentration camp - I'm certain furbies have not been used to commit war crimes. Yet. But, that was my reaction, nonetheless.
Having watched the video in its entirety, my horror is not abated, but, rather, solidified. It doesn't bother me that Hasbro has opted to reincarnate a cult-toy of my late childhood. I narrowly escaped having a furby of my own due only to my parents deep sense of unease with the toy. Or maybe their desire to be less indulgent. I was, after all, a little shit, if accounts are to be trusted. Do I think it's kind of a sell out? Yeah - Hasbro, you had your chance with this in 1998 (and again in 2005? Seriously?). And you did well! Let it go. However, my personal childhood favourite, Littlest Pet Shop, had a reboot of its own, so I can't entirely begrudge Hasbro for giving it a try with one of their own highest earners. After all, have kids stopped liking furry dependents any more than parents have despised cleaning up after neglected Christmas pets? If Homeward Bound II taught me anything, the answer is no.
their eyes just got SO MUCH BIGGER!
However, some of the elements of this new, reconceptualized furby, give me more than a momentary pause. On silent viewing, I was immediately struck by the one very obvious physical change made to the toy. Let's take a moment and compare, shall we?
circa 1998 furby
Here is our original (classic, if you will) furby. This is the being that first elicited the wikipedia description, an "electronic robot toy resembling a hamster/owl-like creature." Sure. Now here is the 2012 furby:
I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY DE-FUZZED HIS EARS!
Ok. So, what do I find distressing about the new furby? You need not be a film study major to pick up on my not-so-subtle emphasis on eye imagery. Hasbro forfeited the glassy, psuedo-life-like, googly eyes of the classic furby in exchange for an arguably more expressive pixelated digital eye. I will concede that I find their expressions creepy (particularly that one that I managed to find a picture of above), but my discomfort extends beyond that mere esthetic dislike. I couldn't help but be saddened that our world is one in which small children are more comfortable with furry little monsters which are quite clearly fused with technology than the ever-so deceptive furry little monsters of my childhood, rotating eye balls and all.
It means that that stupid Futureshop commercial where a kid claims to be "born on the internet" is less a hilarious impossibility and more a political statement on the sad boarders of reality the define (dare I say it?) kids today. A child, "ages 6 and up," is not at all disquieted by the fact that their teddy bear has achieved the Singularity. They are more concerned with what sort of ipod burgers to feed it to make sure it loves them the most! (You'll know it loves you when it sounds like a Sims character achieving orgasm)
What happened to Barbie Dolls, Mighty Max, Lego and, I don't know, actual hamsters? I had one! Of all of those things, actually, but specifically a hamster. If you want your child to love and care for something while learning vague vestiges of responsibility and stewardship, is this the best we can do? My preliminary research shows that one of these furbies goes for $69.97CAD. Yahoo! Answers indicates that, with the current rate of global inflation being what it is, hamsters go for anywhere between $6 and $20CAD. I spent more than that last Friday on vodka shots. I may have spent the amount necessary to buy a furby as well, but that is beside the point. I just hope that parents will think long and hard before they pander to their kids, but more specifically to toy and marketing companies, on this one. Think of all the shelter kittens that could use a home, or consider the value you, as a child, put on the first pet you had that [you perceived] was all your own. Can we please just reject the insidious research that has gone into marketing this crap towards kids and refuse to technologically indoctrinate our children when they are as young as 6-years-old? In this regard, I guess I'm pro-life, anti-technology. Send me to Georgia. Or Quebec, where the furby website has been banned for children 13 or under.
I don't like kids, and certainly don't want any of my own, but I still think they deserve better than a digital-burger eating owl/hamster that's a shitty dancer. Don't you?
This weekend I had planned on gushing enthusiastically about my renewed embrace of a regular yoga practice. I was probably going to be sanctimonious, waxing on about the peace of mind and sense of self it instills in me, how it helps me arrange my priorities in a way that helps me achieve a more balanced life. Blah blah blah. I've said it before and I'll probably say it again. I have an awful habit of falling in and out of my yoga practice. I would say that the entire past year that I lived with my parents I went to yoga only very occasionally, and that self-definition as a yogi was entirely absent. So yeah, it's always exciting to rediscover something that you love, especially if that thing also happens to be really good for you.
But, God damn, does my body ever hurt. Between gym dates with law girls and my own stubborn commitment to yoga (motivated in no small part by a desire to get my money's worth of a month unlimited pass), I am virtually incapacitated. I'm trying to read my text on the law of contracts, but all I can think about are my hip flexors! And my shoulders. Triceps. Low back too.
Yoga; I love you so much, and all you do is hurt me. I think I'll stick it out though. Unlike an abusive boyfriend, our relationship will actually change.
I had some very well laid plans for blog posts this weekend. I have a couple mid-way drafted, in fact.
However, after putting in some requisite hours at the library yesterday and returning home to make myself dinner, I found my laptop to be rather tragically unresponsive. No vital signs, save the blue glow of my power button. No screen, no characteristic whir of responding mechanisms, no sounds, not even the will to shut off said power button light. Oh crumbs, as my mum would say. I removed the battery, twice, in fact, let the battery recharge. Nothing. I called the IT guy who had equipped me with this laptop no more than four weeks earlier, and started hashing out some post-mortem options. Not pleasant.
It did mean that I got much more reading done than I would have done otherwise though, I'm sure.
At nearly midnight, while I drowsily slogged through Torts, my apartment was cast in a rather eerie light.
kinda like that, yeah.
My laptop, which I hadn't touched for hours, roused itself from the cold clutches of apparent death. As those few remaining soldiers who endeavour on with PC are probably familiar, the start up screen which follows a crash reads something along the lines of; Do you wish to start up in Normal Mode, Safety Mode, etc, etc? A little baffled, I started to get out of bed to prompt the computer's start up, because apparently I learned nothing from my past obsession with horror movies, when it proceeded to start up in normal mode all on its own. I don't know if this is maybe just a default that results from leaving the start up screen unsupervised too long, but my logical conclusion was "Poltergeists! My computer is haunted by poltergeists!" You can ask my dad - I left him a voicemail to that effect.
So, if some truly uncharacteristic posts start appearing on this blog - regarding, say, the ease with which I read about Tort law, or my disapprobation of the vulgarity of hip hop music - it's probably my new lap top gremlin friends. Don't worry. They mean well, I'm sure.
La di da di da, it's the muthafuckin' Five Sense Friday Post. Thought I forgot about Five Senses Fridays? I did! But I was feeling pretty pleased about a number of things today, not least of which was that it was Friday, and I thought "oh. yeeeeeaaaaah." (clarification: that is a revelatory 'yeah' not a 'dayum girl' variety 'yeah'). So, without further ado...
Feeling:
slothful. I finished my sole Friday class and proceeded to lie in my bed watching Law & Order for an embarrassing number of hours. Or not embarrassing, if you consider Dick Wolfe's development of a pop culture understanding of the legal system an important contribution to consider during one's legal education. Which I do.
Smelling: my nose. No, I'm not being flippant. You know that feeling when you get this sort of stringent smell which seems to just be the smell of the inside of your nose? Like right after you blow your nose? No? Well. Never mind then.
Hearing:
The Notorious "Biggie" B.I.G., Warning. I've been on a 90s hip-hop/rap exploration as of late and it has been just lovely. Makes me feel so fucking legit at the gym. And in life.
Tasting:
I'm mentally
tasting all things pumpkin. There has been a distinctly autumnal feel in
the air lately, which has me rather pumped. Pumped about pumpkin.
Earl's pumpkin pie and Howe Sound Pumpkineater ale. It's a little
premature, but I'm salivating in preparation.
Seeing:
a shame-inducing Aritzia bag. I'm currently gauging the degree of give that will occur with the wearing of my new faux-leather leggings before I commit to taking off any tags. There may or may not be some degree of a muffin-top situation developing north of the belt line BUTTHEY'RESOPRETTY
Law School Walk of Shame: sneaking back to your apartment at 11:00pm on a school night after going shopping and having dinner (at which you actually had a glass of red wine - gasp) with lovely, charming friends when you should have been locked away doing your criminal law reading like all the other good kids.
JUST like this, but instead of Meech Munchies and Paramite Pies, shopping bags and purple lips
And I feel like that's an excuse for not blogging. Though, generally speaking, "excuse" is kind of a pejorative. But, in this case, maybe not. It's pretty valid that law school is a bit of an overwhelming commitment. Take, for instance, the workload I have tonight:
35 pages of Torts
450 words left on an Ethical Lawyering paper
30 pages of State & Citizen reading
2 case excerpts for Legal Process
The validity of my excuse is, however, null and void in light of the reality that while vaguely attempting these things, I also;
sauteed onions I didn't eat
napped
read while in downward facing dog
researched the history of cat mayors
had a bath
danced to the longest Avicii song I could find
I'll try not to ever leave you again over such paltry excuses...
Law School starts on Tuesday. I have already been assigned readings.
Spent my first night in my prefurnished apartment. Will be acquiring additional mattress toppers for my charming twin bed or else I'm dropping out. My energy will be focused on project:BED rather than project:obtain law degree.
